nekocandii
The sensation zips through your body, traveling from where your fingertips are joined and spreading heat across your arm and down to curl at the base of your spine. It's only a second, a touch of lips and a mingling of breath but you never imagined it would feel like this.
I've been eating lots of chestnuts lately, even though it's spring. They remind me of a fruit we have back home. I wonder if I should try to have them roasted. It might be too hot for that just yet though.
I ran down the hallway as fast as I could. My legs were burning and lungs heaving but I couldn't stop now. I didn't see them till it was too late. Throwing myself to the side, I swerved away with all my strength, missing the enemy's sword by a hair.
It shot into the air as fast as she had set it off. The red bloomed across the sky and she held her breath waiting. She stood on the sand looking out onto the bleak, dark ocean. Maybe someone had seen her signal. She could only hope.
He's sitting on a silk cushion. The picture of haughty imperialism. We are all his pawns and playthings. He barely bats an eyelash at my humble, grubby appearance. Who am I to disturb him? He finally acknowledges me and ends up meowing happily when he realizes that it's feeding time.
I strive to be the greatest "me" that can be accomplished. To lay at my deathbed, in perfect harmony with who I was, what I became, and what I leave behind. I strive for a legacy.
It's exactly the same as I left it. The small chip in the window from the time I tried sneaking out the window one night in high heels. I twisted my ankle and was grounded for a month. The same old pink drapes fluttered weakly in the breeze and the smell of trees and sunshine welcomed me home.
She quickly flicked her eyes away from the person she had to share the elevator with. He was humming a tuneless but jovial melody. His lips quirked in the corners - a semblance of a smile -, he had seen her staring.
Gentlemen. The word in itself tells of soft pressed handkerchiefs. Of chairs pulled back and polite conversation in backrooms. What lies behind the gentle facade of this "gentleman"? What makes him what he is?
Follow the lines of your imagination into the deepest recesses of your mind. A quest for what makes you tick can be the most daunting of them all. Tread carefully...
load more entries