Poem
"Thoughts Interjected"
firelight, twilight, light bulbs, illumination
false freedom, thoughts interjected
feelings of loss, naked ascent down
stairs.
tears
fear and loathing
of self
for self
who else?
wishing more
not for self
of self
reasons to see
believe, hope, lost in thoughts of damnation
not of the next world, but of this
forgotten
not hope, not light – both unalienable
me
reasons unknown
hope goes
Prose
"Should Be Shocking"
"It should be shocking," she whispered as she peered out the open glass doors, her face lacking any real expression. She did not dare venture out onto the balcony. He was right when he said that it was better not to risk anyone seeing her. She thought about this logic and decided it was best if the doors were closed.
"What should be?" he murmured back to her from across the room. He flipped the light switch and the room was suddenly dark. She saw nothing and then the city lights were suddenly brighter than they'd ever been before. She blinked, trying to evade them, but they insisted on remaining. She closed the large doors, and drew the curtains shut. It was finally dark. His arms slipped around her shoulders and gently began pulling off her coat. She pulled away from him, turning to face him. She took one step backwards and he was no longer quite able to touch her.
"This world," she said in an even softer voice, barely audible though he stood so near her. He did not bother hiding his confusion, which was the only sign she needed. His brow furrowed slightly and his dark eyes questioned her. He did not stop there though. In another second his natural response to all things she did or said made itself known. He smiled kindly at her, his white teeth too bright in the muted room. He tried to put his arms around her waist, but she had already drawn the gun from her coat pocket. She shot him.
Quotation
"There is such a place as fairyland – but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; and that is the tragedy of life. On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over. Henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost part again; and blessed are they above mortals. They, and only they, can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles. The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland." -L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl
Painting
Untitled
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