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Winter SolsticeHave you ever wondered what would happen if you had never met that one person? If you had decided to stay at home rather than go to some stupid party? Not that it really matters now and as much as I think about the whatif’s, I honeslty wouldn't change a thing apart from the ending. My name is Seth Lockwood and this is the story of how I died.
Back in 1801, the night of the Great Autumn Ball, my brother, Chase, and I had started to fall in love with the mysterious but beautiful Rayne Souverie. Both Chase and I had never really seen her for more than a few seconds until that night. She was always surrounded my men as they begged for the next dance, but she almost never accepted. When had seen her briefly from a far at other functions looking as bored as we felt. But I guess that night changed everything.
We had been brought into nobility when mother had remarried. We had not grown up in such a society like all the others. Chase and I were rather rebelious and always competing or fi
Burning Embers Chapter VChapter V
I know it’s only been a day but all I can think about is getting back to Raina. What if he does something to her? I never should have gone hunting while she was so fragile. Damn it Seth! How could you have been so stupid? Maybe I can melt the chains then drain the guard. That might work! But only if I have enough strength and power to summon enough fire so that I can melt the chains. She is smart though, getting her Guardian to drain me of my blood to the point where I am practically useless. Wait! The ring that Rain gave me! I can use the power that she stored in it to summon enough fire and break free! God I love that girl, always having a back up energy source just in case. I drew the energy from the ring and used it to melt the chains. I collapsed onto the floor and groaned in pain but I didn't have any time to waste, the guard was opening my cell door. I rushed over and hid behind the door, as he came in and looked around the cell I grabbed him from behind and sank
Burning Embers Chapter IVChapter IV
Wow, society has really changed since I was last here. Well at least I think it has, but for all I know I could have been here last week. Ugh, I hate not remembering. What if people are out there right now looking for me?
“Hey, are you okay there?” I snapped out of my own little world.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wish I could remember... Well remember everything I guess. It’s just so frustrating not knowing who you are,” I sighed. We had been walking around the city for hours, watching the people scurrying along to their jobs or rushing to meet their friends for lunch.
“Hey, wait! It’s daytime! Shouldn’t you be bursting into flames or something?” I had just realised that I had been walking around the city in the middle of the day with a vampire.
“Yeah, if I was a normal vampire then I should be but because we’re soul bound and I’m your Guardian, I can walk around in the day otherwise what would be the
Burning Embers: Chapter 2Chapter II
“Rain, get behind me!” Thane ordered as he drew a beautiful silver stake from his trench coat. Wait he had that thing in his coat the whole time? Where the hell did he put it?
“Oh, calm down will you? I’m not here to hurt her,” The stranger said exasperated. Damn, he is so hot. Dark brown hair, slightly tanned and you could just see a little of his chest thanks to the marvellously half unbuttoned black shirt. Damn!
“Who are you?” barked Thane.
“My name is Seth and I’m here because of her. She called me and I came. It’s as simple as that,” Seth shrugged.
“Wait, what?! I don’t even know you, so why would I call you? And I don’t even have a phone!” I rebuked defensively.
“It was telepathically. You probably didn’t even know you were doing it or that you still are. I am your...Your opekun or guardian if you will. I guess you could probably even say a servant but I prefer guardia
Burning Embers: Chapter 1Chapter I
“Why don’t I know who I am?” I asked scared and confused. Three emotions flickered across his face as I spoke; shock, confusion and uncertainty. Then right back to confusion again. Great seems like he hasn't got a clue what’s going on.
“You don’t know who you are?” he asked, his voice sent shivers down my spine. It was like his voice was sweet but with a hint of danger.
“If I did, do you really think I’d be asking you?” I snapped, wow I’m bitch.
“I’m sorry but I don’t know who you are,” He said softly.
“Fine then, if you can’t tell me who I am can you tell me who you are? Why I’m here? Why you’re here? What the hell is going on? Or why I can’t remember anything?” I questioned, my voice rising with each word and my tone becoming more and more hysteric. The man looked away from my eyes and stared in shock at something near my hand. I turned to see what h
Burning Embers: ProloguePROLOGUE
"But how will I know it's her?" I asked
"You'll know when it's time Thane." Then the voice was gone.
Oh, that's helpful. There's only, what, six billion humans on this Earth! Oh, and an apocalypse going on. Sure no trouble at all, thane, no trouble at all. I though sarcastically, which is unusual for an angel to experience human emotions let alone express them. Then again I guess that's what you get for mingling with humans for hundreds of years. I was just so frustrated with these one word answers I kept getting lately and all these bullshit answers like 'You'll know' and 'Trust yourself', oh and my favourite 'Trust me you'll know'. I can get better answers off of a bloody fortune cookie! How the hell am I supposed to do that, I have no idea what she looks like, no clue where she is, no idea how to find her, or if she's even on earth yet! No I just have to keep flying about and hope I get lucky, hope she falls from the sky or something. I hate freaking prophets and oracles.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
There was a girl, so very lost,
She gives her heart, only to have it smashed.
People try to help her find the shards,
But they never can make it whole.
It become mangled and cold,
Protected by a wall, imprisoned.
She locks herself away, to cry out in pain.
So sick of being broken and discarded.
A porcelain doll, so fragile.
That is her, a doll on a shelf,
Worn out and old, dropped so often.
Look closely and see the gaps.
Words never spoken,
Coldness ever present,
Look closely and see the gaps.
Forever trapped within her own heart
She is the porcelain doll on the shelf.
Never moving, always hiding,
Unable to speak or shed a tear,
Stuck on a shelf, collecting dust.
This is her life, forever and eternal,
The cold cruel life is hers.
The Porcelain Doll.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More