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G. Perkins The rain splashes against the sea of black umbrellas, gray clouds rumbling overhead. Rain washed buildings line rain flooded streets. The drab and dull once again rules the day.
At least, it thinks it does.
"'Scuse me, pardon me, comin' through!"
Black figures scamper to the side and rain water is splashed upon them. I laugh, electric blue bike streaming down the road, leaving rain soaked Londoners cursing my back.
I turn sharply, back tire fishtailing, causing more rain to fly up and soak me. Brunette hair plastered to my forehead and sticking to my glasses, I peddle as fast as I can. One more turn and I'm flying by a row of copy-cat houses. All simple. All adorable. All gag-me-with-a-spoon disgustingly sweet.
With a heavy sigh, I roll up the driveway to house 1467. Unfortunately, this dime-a-dozen two story
DaydreamYou sit in class
Against the blank notebook
Look out the window
Dreary and grey
Rain splashing upon the ground
The patter grows louder
Until it's a roar
You're pulled under
By the tide
Salt water stinging
Then, grains of sand
Hot and biting into
Your bare feet
Tennis shoes slapping
Making the car shake
Voices clashing harshly
And tap your pencil
Against the blank notebook
JealousyJealousy is a seductive mistress
Flashing her brilliant smile
Green eyes bright
The emerald dress
Is low and daring
Emerald nails long and sharp
She struts about
Black and green hair
Cascading down her back
None too patiently
A young woman
Eyes locked on the young man
Whose arm is around another
Jealousy slips behind the adolesent girl
"Look at what she has
Look at what you want
See how pretty she is?
See how happy he is?"
The girl shakes her head
But the green seed is growing
In her heart
Blue eyes turn emerald
Immortal Legend tells of a general whose might was beyond that of any other. The warrior was unmatched, unbeatable. Countless fell victim to the blade of this master. All who challenged this great soldier met that sweet peacemaker called Death. This awesome being, this demi-god, was rumored to be immortal. But this general of generals has a secret. One that could ultimately prove the rumor false.
The tent flap parted and two figures walked in. One stood silently by the entrance. His thin lips were pulled down in a frown, a dark goatee accentuating his pale skin. His cheeks were rosy and his nose a bit red. Other than this slight discoloration, he seemed not to notice the cold. He watched the other with bright green eyes. Eyes hardened by war. He seemed almost feline as he watched his superior.
The armor clinked as the soldier moved. The plume of white horse hair cascaded from the helm. Though it was dark out, the face mask was still lowered. Only a pair of da
Inner Writer She crested the hill and walked over to me. Her lips were curved up in a smile that was at once gentle and mothering, fierce and wild. Her dark blue eyes a raging storm at sea, hair a waist-long waterfall of shimmering gold.
She wore a plain, short sleeved blue dress that clung to her figure through her hips but flowed around her legs. Her bare feet made no noise on the grass, a silver anklet briefly catching the sunlight. The silver bangles jangled as she swung her arms. Her neck and ears were naked but a simple silver ring adorned her left hand. Three flowers, a small diamond in the center of each one.
She stopped before me, that smile still on her face. She was not the striking, drop-dead gorgeous that some few women are lucky to have. She had a more subtle beauty in her quiet demeanor that also covered a fiery passion.
Tears prick my eyes as I study her. She looks so much like my mother, I think. I give
Gifted-Part Three The clank of metal hinges creaking woke her up. Her eyes snapped open and she crawled to the front of her cage. Wheeler and another man were opening the door to the cage beside hers. The one with the other half-wolf.
She watched as he stepped out, black fur shimmering in the dismal light. She noticed, bitterly, that he had neither leash nor anklet. His silver eyes found hers for a second, staring intensly before he padded down the hall, Wheeler and the other trailing behind.
She scowled and thumped her back against the side of the cage, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She glared after them long after they'd disappeared around the corner. She would wait. She would sit until he came back. And then he'd have some answers for her.
She waited alright. She waited for two weeks, barely sleeping, hardly eating. What were they doing to him? That single thought jolted her out of the trance like sleep she'd been in.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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