oscarwildecat

Darkness replacing light Pain replacing pleasure I ride into the night away from the pressure and away from the hate my fears at my back my desires at my front pulling me pulling me pulling me till my limbs are torn making me cry out in this blackened desert in this whitened hell this prison cell in which I call my home in which I shall remain alone.

Chapter two: Symar lay on her side, warm in the arms of her lover. "are you ok?" he asked, kissing her neck "I'm perfect." She replied, turning to face him, and kissing his lips gently. He smiled warmly at her, and stroked her now changed markings "I like them green" she said, with a small giggle "whenever I see them, I can think of you." she then paused, and asked "had you bonded with anyone before?" "Yes" he said with a sad sigh "once." "Who were they?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder "no one you know." he said, grabbing her waist lightly and pulling her closer "it was a man, we were together for quite a while." "What

Chapter one: 6 years later Symar sat at the window, watching the rain pound on the glass, as the hustle and bustle of people in the street walked by. She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, and sighed, before standing, and walking towards her door. she could hear the loud, intruding voices of her father and brother, the noise she often heard penetrating the walls nowadays, and reluctantly opened the door. "You are not going do you hear me?" "Go fuck yourself; I'll do what I want." It had been like this ever since their mother had died. They just seemed to be at eachothers throats, all hours of the day. Usually their arguments had o

Prologue: Fredonra sat back in her chair, stroking her swollen stomach gently, whispering future promises to the lives growing inside of her "and one day, when your old enough, im going to teach you to be great sorcerors, and you will become the most powerful people on the planet." "Stop it Fredonra" her husband Treon scolded, looking up from his book "we don't even know if they'll have magic yet, don't make promises you can't keep." "They will Treon, I can feel it. I just know they'll be able to do magic." She replied hopefully, never breaking her gaze from her stomach "and besides, if we both can, chances are they will." He sighed, and k

Gladvore descriptions: Symar: Hair: White, long to the waist. Clothes: Steam punk: A white short sleeved blouse under a deep purple corset. A pair of khaki shorts that stop halfway down the thigh, with a pair of fishnets underneath. A holster on the waist of the shorts, with a sword and a gun. Lace up boots, practical heels, brown with white laces up them. Marking: Light purple, goes from middle of collar bone, and continues down to her wrist in a curved pattern. Eyes: Same light purple as her markings, wide, eye lids covered in black eye liner. Body type: Hour glass figure, not exactly slim, but curvy. Power affinity: Mental powers

Gleevis stumbled through the forest, the screams still echoing in his head. Everything flashed before him, everything that had led him here. The kiss that had started it all, the slow disbandment of Rallaveer's sanity, the bodies they had left in their wake, the blood that covered his clothes, the only thing of Neox he had left. He stopped, and leaned against a tree. He knew there was no way he could run forever. He knew this was his final call, his swan song. He felt searing hot tears fall down his cheeks, as he punched the tree behind him in frustration, and knelt down to the ground. He shakily placed his hand on the dirt, and desperately t

I'm hiding behind the wall, the darkness surrounding me. The lights on the street long dead, bulbs flickering, desperately clinging to that last morsel of light, before dying out, and returning the scene to darkness. I have my tools. I am ready. It's always gone this way, every night, all night. They have no right to be so beautiful, so pure. I must fix it, I must make the world right again. Someone's coming. I hear her footsteps, her heels clicking on the pavement. I move quickly, my movements merely an act of the shadows. I wrap my arm around her delicate neck; I pull her to the wall. I don't give her time to scream. I take my knife, and I

The red sweater: I was 15 when I fell in love for the first time. Of course, I wasn't aware until many years later that that's what I had felt. Our time together was short, a mere fragment of a day, but she left my heart forever tainted, by her red covered kiss. I was alone, walking around the shops. I watched the people walk around me, all rushing to get somewhere. I sat down, and just watched them. I got out my phone, and I filmed them, hope it might be my award winning documentary, a day in the view from a town bench. That's when she sat next to me. I could smell coconut on her skin, and her blonde hair draped past her shoulders, held ba