“I am not a toy to be used!”
The pity radiated from them all. The quiet, onlooking servants occupying the room with us, who could do nothing but stare at the floor as I raised my voice. I knew she wouldn’t send them away, that this was some twisted lesson in humility and learning my place. Because I pushed first.
“You’ve always just been a toy, Adran.” My body shook, not only from the coldness of her words but the sudden frigid temperature of the room. Her magic had come alive-breathing into every corridor of the castle, so that no one inside it could escape this freezing cold. It illuminated her skin, turning it such a light blue it looked like she might be deprived of oxygen and not vibrating with the force of centuries old magic in her. But as usual, her face gave away nothing, an expression as if she were bored by this whole conversation. A mask I learned she wore often around everyone else, that I was only just starting to peek behind.
The truth of our relationship was staring me in the face-that she may never have truly given me a second thought as she went through her day, and would never be able to care for me the way I cared for her. That I may very well have been nothing but a toy to her. Even the servants could tell the situation was getting dangerous as they slowly backed out of the room through the servants doors.
“Where do you think you all are going?” She asked, an incredulous lilt to her speech, “All of you are my toys,” she looked into my eyes, “And don’t forget that.”
We Fly. But there’s no air, no atmosphere. We’re unprepared.
Spinning around, without apologies. Ruining lives. Just another day.
We’d like to inform you, it’s happened again. We’ve lost our minds. It feels like we’re flying.
All over the place. But only ever in circles. But we rule the world. So, We Fly.
‘Jesus Christ why would anyone willingly submit themselves to this torture?!’
The cold. A Hell of it’s own. A form of pain and suffering so awful only the worst of Mafia bosses use it on their captives. I had never experienced something so unreasonably agonizing. Why someone would put themselves through this suffering I would never be able to understand. I would only going to be in the cold for a few days, but I already desperately wanted to leave.
Shh Click Clack monsters attack from fantasies locked in books released from cages of minds and novice vocabulary bindings undone by generations passion for longing hope for better dreams keep dreaming keep letters meaning made up stories leave room for living persons thoughts room for real conversations less monsters roaming overheard in the library
It was the worst kind of day to be lost and alone on a mountain. There was a war starting. Machines of mass destruction readying to tear apart lives and lands. But Yara was stuck. The singular being that held hope in the old Gods, she went to the one place untouched by the menacing graces of society, the mountains. In an age where humans believe nature is evil and the right thing to do was tear down the forests and barricade off the oceans and rivers.
In order for Yara to reach the old Gods, she needed to be apart from the war-hungry cries of her neighbors, and feel connected to nature. So, here she was, begging for the people of earth to be saved from the violence ensued by war. But then the fires started and screams could be heard for hundreds of miles. Her Gods hadn’t been able to stop the fighting that took the lives of far too many, including hers.
You sit reserved. Not unhappy just not caring. Legs crossed and eyes averted. No beauty would make you falter.
They sat across, Ordered an iced coffee, Smiled, laughed- Their beauty made you falter.
But you can pick yourself up. No more contact, dates. They’re too perfect. You’d ruin them, and them you.
But they asked for more, Wanted to see you, Meet again, And again, And again. And they never faltered.
