Wanting MemoriesHe’d been found wearing a new dark-eyed mask and with a co-worker drinking absinthe, the two of them trying to find something more in the afternoon sunset. Another day had gone stale, shriveling and imploding like aged cheese burning in the summer, left to rot and mold like a corpse. And it didn’t help that the day had been served with a typewriter malfunction with a side of physically painful confrontations with his colleague. His sleeves more closely resembled the pelt of an exotic house pet imported from the Fields than the uniform of a dutiful employee. No article of clothing should clash with the almost twice reborn decadence of the city, where skyscrapers were interlocked with bridges melded from glass that appeared as if it had been torn from the sky like silk. The birds that alighted atop their spires looked as if they were thorns to an onyx crown that the city had adorned itself with. But, it couldn’t be helped. His colleague hadn’t let him go home to wWanting Memories by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
Awakening: Prodigy Chapter 3 - Part IAwakening: Prodigy Chapter 3 - Part I by AstralDaamon
5:00 a.m. Sunday morning. The first shuttle of the day was preparing for departure from the capitol city's train station. The elongated sleek shape was designed for high speeds, limiting exposure time to the unshielded wild regions of the surface world. Its pearl-silver surface gleamed in the stations' lights, adding a new level of brightness to the passenger boarding area. The trains' reflective surface was thought to confuse demonic entities, a design function implemented in a time when man believed demons to be lower life forms. History had taught them that demons came in all shapes and sizes, each with talents as unique and diverse as man's ingenuity. Since the new cooling system had been implemented, travel between cities were becoming popular.
A generous person sized door pushed out from the seamless design and lowered itself to the platform. "Departure time. In. Ten. Minutes." An automated female voice informed the only passenger in the station.
Seth Wright sat at the benches th
Awakening: Prodigy Chapter 2 - Part IIAwakening: Prodigy Chapter 2 - Part II by AstralDaamon
Chapter 2: Part II
Evenings in the Mathers household were dull. Though curfew was set an hour before sun down, they had to be home much earlier to give Mathias time to prepare dinner and set up for his nightly routine. Astral would often confine herself to her room, leaving William to fend for himself.
"I promise I'll be back before curfew!" He was getting desperate. He hadn't expected his familial duties to have taken up his whole day and had already made arrangements to meet with friends. He hoped that he could still make it in time, but his odds were fading by the minute.
"My answer is no and that's final," Mathias stated firmly while sniffing at the contents of a mystery box to check for freshness. The corners of his father's mouth retreated to his ears in a grimace, his nose would have joined them but settled for trying to make itself smaller. His eyes watered. "We won't be having that," he croaked, attempting not to breath in the putrid fumes.
William plugged his nose. "What if I
HollowToday –Hollow by DylanSeto
The world feels hollow.
I feel like I could fall
through the steps
to heaven, and never
make my way back up.
I feel like I could break
It’s heart and devour
The world feels hollow.
I feel like I could crush it
with mere ounces of my strength.
give me a lever
and a place to stand
and I’ll feel like I could lift us up.
FreedomWe were bornFreedom by DylanSeto
from the world
around us. Now,
we're just trying to
Break the chains
We built for ourselves.
The Wind CriesThe Wind Cries by mildlymorbid
"In time his heart will open.
Then the shadows will bleed
and the locks will break."
— Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
The serpent and its secret heart of darkness never existed. In the same way that there was no garden, no clear waters, and no gilded bars or glass like helium. No Gethsemane and no purgatory. No eerily stagnant limbo heavy with moisture and the overwhelming aftertaste of barbiturate settling in the back of your throat. No stringent blades of sun slicing through the glass and golden bars, feeling the trees and their brethren and the vines clutching at the walls, desperate, with all the strength, capability, and essence of their existence they can summon, sacrificing their hardest of hearts for a momentary breath of light and a taste of a pale, white, and fearful sky that has never been theirs-- or ours-- to bare. And none of this, I repeat, none of this is a