tolkienchild
She threw down the scarf in complete disregard, her eyes wide in disbelief. Her lips curved in a smile filled with the radiant joy of sheer surprise.
The hallowed ground was silent. Only ghosts wandered this earth anymore. Forgotten in the mists of time they lingered still silent pillars upholding a dream of history. No one could recall their name. They couldn't even remember their name. It was a forgotten legend in a forsaken land.
My lips are chapped. They sting in the cold frigid air that whips my hair into a golden frenzy about my face. I give up trying to keep the tangled locks tame, there is no point. Not any more. Not since it happened. Who care about appearances any more? There are more important things to be concerned with.
CATCH HER!!
She fell through the air, her body limp within the rushing air, her golden hair a halo about her head. He reached out her arms to grasp her, hold her, save her...
Drifting off, away. Far away. I watched as earth faded to a tiny sapphire marble. The stars drew near until all around all we could see were the tiny pinpricks of distant promises.
He threw a fit. A tiny body of enraged energy, despairing and furious, a wild tempest about the room. First he managed to get his diaper off, screaming, his tiny face bunched in folds of infantile fat his green eyes wept with a pain only two year old can feel after having been denied something he desired.
The tree must have been thousands of years old, its trunk was as wide as five full grown men arms' length. Leander marveled at it, it must have seen so much history, this tree, so much pain, happiness, and life. All without ever saying a word.
Ratings. The ratings were high this season. Ugh this is a horrible word. Too modern. The ratings were low. The ratings were actually sideways... it's just the world is partially on its side so they looked up and down to us. Just sayin'.
It burned brightly against the night. Brilliant it stood between them and the darkness. A sea of shadows out before their feet they were afraid to move lest the waves of night come crashing down on them. They trembled in the still air, their torch hissing and spitting furiously into the darkness. The flame was not afraid, it was ready.
The light colors soothed her. The pale blooming rose, the dew colored sky blue, even the usually spitefully bright yellow was a muted canary cream. It was lovely in the small room. Comforting.
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