On the sand, white like the polar bear’s coat. She scooped it, and closed her eyes as the sand fell gently between the spaces of her fingers. Her eyes opened to examine the beauty. A ruby, more brilliant than anything. Her hand slid the ruby into her pocket, allowing some sand to fall in as well.
Red as a jewel of blood
Like a book I read when i was a kid
Like something in smoke that shouldn’t be
It’s beautiful dark
All along the way I saw the ruby
and I thought back to when I was young
Young
When I was a child.
That was when my mother
she was a ruby too.
Instantly I think of ruby red slippers and The Wizard of Oz… and how even though Dorothy got home, they were still gonna have to put Toto down because of that lady who was the “witch” in Oz… Nobody likes to talk about the real ending!
A red gem, commonly used in jewelry and in art. Very expensive, and prized for its color and cut varieties. It’s pretty kewl I guess. So I don’t really know much about rubies. They aren’t a girls best friend, though.
It’s seems such an odd idea, still. Going back to where it all began. I mean, two adventures? I’m still jealous. I got to go east, but never west. The Plateau misses me, for Ruby was never mine.
Max and ruby. Bunnies. Or bunnies love to hop and play with cute ruffle dresses. Like Chanel and coco. Hot chocolate on such s sunny day. Too hot for that. Snowy winter. Skiing in the sun. Pond skim in the sun….
Ruby red eyes glittered behind the forest bush.
A growl, a soft murmuring growl. Almost inviting.
The sun shined down, highlighting the greasier portions of its black fur. Its fangs protruded out, framed by a snarly, wrinkled grin. The dog bolted, it attacked, it killed, and it vanished.
The most beautiful item in the world. A gem beyond proportional measure. Yet, it is jealously guarded by those who possess it. A thing that is rarely shared, and often misinterpreted. Often, we see beauty in its performance, but we are not concerned with its inner nature. By doing so as consistently as we are
The ring glints on her finger
As she talks with her hands.
It is gold or maybe copper
(it is hard to tell in this half light)
And a single ruby (or maybe the last drop
a dragon’s heartblood) and she hasn’t taken
It off even as she stripped the
Rest of her body with ease.
Ruby counting down seconds. Sweat slipping down my forehead. Glance over to see a swift shadow sneak past me. Squint against the darkness – only the bright gleam of a blood coloured gem stares back.
Ruby is a programming language. I tried to learn it so I could learn Ruby on Rails. Ruby was pretty cool. It was a much more elegant language, with more syntactic sugar and more clever shorthand ways to express code. Ruby on Rails was too detailed though. I guess rubies are also a jewel. They are pretty cool.
I turned the ruby over and over in my hand, observing each clear cut side of the jewel. It was mine, and I had to protect this small remnant. It was very easy to lose pieces like this, and I’m sure it happens all the time. I carefully put it in my pocket and
I’m going to have to bring this back to Pokemon Ruby, one of the first video games I ever conquered. I was a girl with two brothers, and all my life, I always lost at everything. But this one game, the first game I got at the same time as my brothers, I beat first, and when we got a link cable, I whooped their asses.
Red as blood and strong as steel. That’s what you are. Pretty at the outside and hard everywhere else. I want to own you, but you’re too high in price.
My shoes were ruby red. The colour of jellies and passionate sunsets. The summer sun filtered through the trees as we lay in the bed of your truck talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
Sherlock had been called back to the country club the following day, and with good reason. Another one of their members had turned up dead, this time deposited right into their pool. Sherlock swept upon the scene and John wrinkled his nose at the heavy stench of blood mixing with chlorine. There floated the dead woman, Roseanne Nulvers, the members informed John. She’d been there when they’d arrived at tea time. None of her possessions were missing, according to her grief-stricken husband. Mr. Nulvers sat at one of the poolside tables, one hand covering his great grey moustache as the other dabbed at his eye with a handkerchief. Sherlock left John to do the interrogating, as he leaned over the side of the pool to see what he could glean from the body. He hoped the police would arrive soon, so they could seal and record the crime scene and allow him to touch it.
“Sir, I need to know,” John pressed gently at the widower, “Did your wife have any connection at all to Mr. Lastworth? Any common links that wouldn’t necessarily be present with anyone else here?” The older gentleman shook his head, and John sighed and tried to think of what else to ask.
Sherlock, meanwhile, had made very little headway. It was likely most of the evidence had been destroyed by the chlorinated water, but one thing he could still make out on the finger closest to him… “Mr. Nulvers,” he turned towards the table where the two shorter men sat, “I notice your wife is wearing a ruby ring.” He ignored the anecdote the old man was about to share of its origin, continuing on instantly, “It has a scratch in it. Was that always there?”
“A scratch? Er, no… Not that I recall. We would have had it replaced!” He tugs thoughtfully at his beard, already forgetting the anecdote and the rudeness alike.
Sherlock makes a note of this, explaining to John while he has his attention, “Corundum has a hardness rating of 9, John, which means that very few things can make a scratch in it like that. The most common of which is a diamond. So either your wife’s ring is a fake, or she was in a tussle with someone wearing diamonds.”
Sherlock glanced around at his present company, the finely-clad patrons of the club who were mostly decked out in their jewels and other signs of wealth. “It won’t rule out many of you,” he muttered softly under his breath, “But there may still be residue if we can catch it in time.” Best not to let on to any suspicions, for fear of alerting the murderer. Something suspicious was definitely going on at this club, and Sherlock would be damned if he couldn’t get to the bottom of it.
I was shining. It was bright. It was like a giant red eye, staring at me, accusing me, questioning me for all I’d done. It was a small light outside my cell, one that I stared out for ages. I stared because I wanted to manipulate it, yet I clearly knew it was untouchable.
And then it happened. The ruby morphed to an emerald.
My cell had opened. I was free.
The lustrous, deep red ruby glimmered in the low light. Holding it to the flickering illumination that the small candle provided, he saw the crimson contours of the flame reflect and dance in the many facets of the gem. He had truly uncovered a price.
Her lips were ruby red and the fullest, most perfect lips he had ever seen. He tried to avert his eyes, but her beauty stopped him every time, taking his breath away. All he could think about was kissing her.
That one color red reminded her of many things; granny’s tomato soup, the red crayon she used to scribble all over the walls when she was younger, her mom’s red lipstick. But it also reminded her of the one stone that he had given her. He didn’t want a diamond, saying it was too bland, and he wanted to set a colored stone on the gold band instead.
ruby. gems do nothing for me, nor does vanity. the material world falls off my radar unless it has to do with some form of technology, i can get behind that, but diamond encrusted watches, chains, shit like..its for the birds. fuck jewelry.
Rubies covered the floor. We had retrieved the loot. My conscious was heavy and my mind bruised, but I felt the riches between my hands. The stolen riches. Shouldn’t we all have them? A voice inside me said I shouldn’t have done this. I pushed it aside, my greedy, human feelings overwhelming me.
Ruby lips are so cliché. Try some cerulean for once. Sky lips glistening from across the room. Better than sapphire – that kind of blue’s too dark.
It’ll contrast with the green olive in your glass. The silver stem. The golden dress. The black hat pushed over his short brown hair. Sky lips powdered with pink clouds. And the eyes are completely white.
This was her big chance. Ruby finally gets to ride Kevin’s four-wheeler. They all had the munchies and she did not. You know what that means? They asked her to go get a bag of chips. Seeing she had no experience, she ran right into a tree and was killed instantly.
“Don’t.” Dean winced. Sam locked his jaw. “I know, Dean. I know I should never have trusted her. You were right and I’m so, so sorry. But please just don’t do this right now.”
I wandered through the pastures as I do everyday, the thundering winds sweeping the grasses even harder than they usually did. I couldn’t help but wonder what the sunset was thinking this time, its ruby hues slowly separating night and day. As the moon began to peek over the horizon, I felt a sense of perfect balance, just as I always did during the wind-whipped pasture sunsets, gilded in ruby and topaz and–occasionally–by me, by the amethyst.
The stone surrounded by diamonds reminded me of a drop of blood when he slipped the ring on my finger. The beauty of the ruby took my breath away as I whispered yes to his question.
She caught his blond hair disappearing behind one of the bookshelves, and she immediately thought to herself that, no, she wouldn’t back down. Not now. Inhaling silently, she could smell his scent mingled with that of old books’, damp and heavy in the air. Keep going, keep going, she set her gaze ahead. Keep going, keep going… behind this shel–oh.
The ruby lay before him on the velvet covered platform just begging for him to touch it. He wanted nothing more. But yet, something inside him stopped short. Conscience perhaps?
Black coal smothers the radiant beauty of the ruby underneath, obscuring a forsaken glimmer of hope.
On the sand, white like the polar bear’s coat. She scooped it, and closed her eyes as the sand fell gently between the spaces of her fingers. Her eyes opened to examine the beauty. A ruby, more brilliant than anything. Her hand slid the ruby into her pocket, allowing some sand to fall in as well.
The ruby red glow from the statue’s eyes reflected off the mirrored walls.
Red as a jewel of blood
Like a book I read when i was a kid
Like something in smoke that shouldn’t be
It’s beautiful dark
All along the way I saw the ruby
and I thought back to when I was young
Young
When I was a child.
That was when my mother
she was a ruby too.
Instantly I think of ruby red slippers and The Wizard of Oz… and how even though Dorothy got home, they were still gonna have to put Toto down because of that lady who was the “witch” in Oz… Nobody likes to talk about the real ending!
A red gem, commonly used in jewelry and in art. Very expensive, and prized for its color and cut varieties. It’s pretty kewl I guess. So I don’t really know much about rubies. They aren’t a girls best friend, though.
It’s seems such an odd idea, still. Going back to where it all began. I mean, two adventures? I’m still jealous. I got to go east, but never west. The Plateau misses me, for Ruby was never mine.
Max and ruby. Bunnies. Or bunnies love to hop and play with cute ruffle dresses. Like Chanel and coco. Hot chocolate on such s sunny day. Too hot for that. Snowy winter. Skiing in the sun. Pond skim in the sun….
Ruby red eyes glittered behind the forest bush.
A growl, a soft murmuring growl. Almost inviting.
The sun shined down, highlighting the greasier portions of its black fur. Its fangs protruded out, framed by a snarly, wrinkled grin. The dog bolted, it attacked, it killed, and it vanished.
precious
precious you are
your eyes are like rubies
your heart is like gold
your mind is like silver
your soul with mine I hold
precious
precious you are.
The most beautiful item in the world. A gem beyond proportional measure. Yet, it is jealously guarded by those who possess it. A thing that is rarely shared, and often misinterpreted. Often, we see beauty in its performance, but we are not concerned with its inner nature. By doing so as consistently as we are
The true me fell for the ruby; the false incarnate fell for the garnet.
Is a colour and something expensive when real, ruby is beautiful in both cases and should be a new descriptive term for beauty.
ruby red. her lips. her nails. her eyes. she was a freak of nature. how did she get this way? and why?
The ring glints on her finger
As she talks with her hands.
It is gold or maybe copper
(it is hard to tell in this half light)
And a single ruby (or maybe the last drop
a dragon’s heartblood) and she hasn’t taken
It off even as she stripped the
Rest of her body with ease.
Ruby counting down seconds. Sweat slipping down my forehead. Glance over to see a swift shadow sneak past me. Squint against the darkness – only the bright gleam of a blood coloured gem stares back.
Ruby is a programming language. I tried to learn it so I could learn Ruby on Rails. Ruby was pretty cool. It was a much more elegant language, with more syntactic sugar and more clever shorthand ways to express code. Ruby on Rails was too detailed though. I guess rubies are also a jewel. They are pretty cool.
I turned the ruby over and over in my hand, observing each clear cut side of the jewel. It was mine, and I had to protect this small remnant. It was very easy to lose pieces like this, and I’m sure it happens all the time. I carefully put it in my pocket and
I’m going to have to bring this back to Pokemon Ruby, one of the first video games I ever conquered. I was a girl with two brothers, and all my life, I always lost at everything. But this one game, the first game I got at the same time as my brothers, I beat first, and when we got a link cable, I whooped their asses.
Red as blood and strong as steel. That’s what you are. Pretty at the outside and hard everywhere else. I want to own you, but you’re too high in price.
sky
ring red slippers
red hollow – was that a good book? it might have been i dont really recall
gem
emerald
(people) i used to know
mining how do you get those emeralds out of the earth
rudy
ruddy cheeks i want to see more of
My shoes were ruby red. The colour of jellies and passionate sunsets. The summer sun filtered through the trees as we lay in the bed of your truck talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
Sherlock had been called back to the country club the following day, and with good reason. Another one of their members had turned up dead, this time deposited right into their pool. Sherlock swept upon the scene and John wrinkled his nose at the heavy stench of blood mixing with chlorine. There floated the dead woman, Roseanne Nulvers, the members informed John. She’d been there when they’d arrived at tea time. None of her possessions were missing, according to her grief-stricken husband. Mr. Nulvers sat at one of the poolside tables, one hand covering his great grey moustache as the other dabbed at his eye with a handkerchief. Sherlock left John to do the interrogating, as he leaned over the side of the pool to see what he could glean from the body. He hoped the police would arrive soon, so they could seal and record the crime scene and allow him to touch it.
“Sir, I need to know,” John pressed gently at the widower, “Did your wife have any connection at all to Mr. Lastworth? Any common links that wouldn’t necessarily be present with anyone else here?” The older gentleman shook his head, and John sighed and tried to think of what else to ask.
Sherlock, meanwhile, had made very little headway. It was likely most of the evidence had been destroyed by the chlorinated water, but one thing he could still make out on the finger closest to him… “Mr. Nulvers,” he turned towards the table where the two shorter men sat, “I notice your wife is wearing a ruby ring.” He ignored the anecdote the old man was about to share of its origin, continuing on instantly, “It has a scratch in it. Was that always there?”
“A scratch? Er, no… Not that I recall. We would have had it replaced!” He tugs thoughtfully at his beard, already forgetting the anecdote and the rudeness alike.
Sherlock makes a note of this, explaining to John while he has his attention, “Corundum has a hardness rating of 9, John, which means that very few things can make a scratch in it like that. The most common of which is a diamond. So either your wife’s ring is a fake, or she was in a tussle with someone wearing diamonds.”
Sherlock glanced around at his present company, the finely-clad patrons of the club who were mostly decked out in their jewels and other signs of wealth. “It won’t rule out many of you,” he muttered softly under his breath, “But there may still be residue if we can catch it in time.” Best not to let on to any suspicions, for fear of alerting the murderer. Something suspicious was definitely going on at this club, and Sherlock would be damned if he couldn’t get to the bottom of it.
I was shining. It was bright. It was like a giant red eye, staring at me, accusing me, questioning me for all I’d done. It was a small light outside my cell, one that I stared out for ages. I stared because I wanted to manipulate it, yet I clearly knew it was untouchable.
And then it happened. The ruby morphed to an emerald.
My cell had opened. I was free.
The lustrous, deep red ruby glimmered in the low light. Holding it to the flickering illumination that the small candle provided, he saw the crimson contours of the flame reflect and dance in the many facets of the gem. He had truly uncovered a price.
Her lips were ruby red and the fullest, most perfect lips he had ever seen. He tried to avert his eyes, but her beauty stopped him every time, taking his breath away. All he could think about was kissing her.
That one color red reminded her of many things; granny’s tomato soup, the red crayon she used to scribble all over the walls when she was younger, her mom’s red lipstick. But it also reminded her of the one stone that he had given her. He didn’t want a diamond, saying it was too bland, and he wanted to set a colored stone on the gold band instead.
ruby. gems do nothing for me, nor does vanity. the material world falls off my radar unless it has to do with some form of technology, i can get behind that, but diamond encrusted watches, chains, shit like..its for the birds. fuck jewelry.
Ruby waterfalls cascaded down her pearl-colored face, staining it in a way that was almost artistic.
Rubies covered the floor. We had retrieved the loot. My conscious was heavy and my mind bruised, but I felt the riches between my hands. The stolen riches. Shouldn’t we all have them? A voice inside me said I shouldn’t have done this. I pushed it aside, my greedy, human feelings overwhelming me.
Ruby lips are so cliché. Try some cerulean for once. Sky lips glistening from across the room. Better than sapphire – that kind of blue’s too dark.
It’ll contrast with the green olive in your glass. The silver stem. The golden dress. The black hat pushed over his short brown hair. Sky lips powdered with pink clouds. And the eyes are completely white.
Dorothy. You mean the world to me.
This was her big chance. Ruby finally gets to ride Kevin’s four-wheeler. They all had the munchies and she did not. You know what that means? They asked her to go get a bag of chips. Seeing she had no experience, she ran right into a tree and was killed instantly.
“Sam – ”
“Don’t.” Dean winced. Sam locked his jaw. “I know, Dean. I know I should never have trusted her. You were right and I’m so, so sorry. But please just don’t do this right now.”
Ruby! Did you know that rubies are my birthstone? No, really! They are! An d my favorite jewelry is my ruby heart necklace from my grandma.
I wandered through the pastures as I do everyday, the thundering winds sweeping the grasses even harder than they usually did. I couldn’t help but wonder what the sunset was thinking this time, its ruby hues slowly separating night and day. As the moon began to peek over the horizon, I felt a sense of perfect balance, just as I always did during the wind-whipped pasture sunsets, gilded in ruby and topaz and–occasionally–by me, by the amethyst.
The stone surrounded by diamonds reminded me of a drop of blood when he slipped the ring on my finger. The beauty of the ruby took my breath away as I whispered yes to his question.
She caught his blond hair disappearing behind one of the bookshelves, and she immediately thought to herself that, no, she wouldn’t back down. Not now. Inhaling silently, she could smell his scent mingled with that of old books’, damp and heavy in the air. Keep going, keep going, she set her gaze ahead. Keep going, keep going… behind this shel–oh.
“Are you looking for me?”
Her breath hitched.
It’s nice, people tend to want it.
The redness can be seen as devilish, but it’s softness can be comforting. Love costs.
The ruby lay before him on the velvet covered platform just begging for him to touch it. He wanted nothing more. But yet, something inside him stopped short. Conscience perhaps?