we greive.
it happens to the best of us. we start life as mere tadpoles, swimming with peers, and learning the tides. trying to wiggle our body through the minor currents that hold us back, and the waves that drift us apart. then it becomes as though living is a status chain, and you find yourself at the bottom, scraping up dead carcusus, slowly becoming a scavenger of hell. when the flames start to rot you, you realize this isn't what you wanted, you could've been more, and you could've been alive still. but the pursicuters leave you to dissingrate to neutral pigments, and let you die a chrome death. the colors fade half-sepia tone. and the light seems to center around your final breaths.
mid torture you feel an ache in your soul. you heart starts to rip as though the demons are pulling, and all the careful stiching shreds into fibers of lost hope. and as your head snaps back, in final endevors of finding a god above, the pain explodes from your breast. your veins are pulsing with madness and obscurity, and shards of glass run wild in your blood stream. you grasp for a bouy, but all you get is the water. deep red water. your blood shed for all... all the pain in the world, and the ones who you soiled. this is their revenge.
yet you don't scream, you don't move. for honestly, this is the moment for which you have been craving, since the first stone was cast, towards you, the sinless. you now sit and drench yourself in the succulent taste of regretless hurt. because you did nothing wrong.
(and the pain, it was butterflies of snow, and roots finnaly emergining into solid oxygen. it was golden dust and calla lilies, hybrid into one atumnal feild. it was the blues of the fire, and the breath of dragons. the petals of roses, and millions of soul-ar eclipses. it was the faint shimmer of wishes, creating an aura dancing in the musky dark. it was the echos of myths; the dainty footsteps of fairies, the rhythmic swoop of the pheonix, the soprano sea song of the nymphs that travels through the bejewled caves of glorious tresures and locked away wealth. it was the whispers of magic; the witches apprentice casting a dream spell, the devils soulmate antartically freezing, the charm of luck performed correctly, the emblem of hope found by the abused. it was the voice of me, saying i loved you.)
Author notes
http://www.smashingapps.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/23-very-conceptual-and-terrific-dark-art-photos.jpg
picture number 6, such a beutiful, painful picture! I love it!
A contest entry
- It’s Another Gazillion Prompt Contest! by Paloszoo.
800 points, ended October 20, 2009, 34 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - she only sleeps when it's raining . by marvel ..
2400 points, ended November 26, 2009, 42 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Prose. by samantha jean.
900 points, ended January 20, 48 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This is amazing. The bright blue background is a little distracting from the actual piece though!
Thanks for entering and good luck -
Wow, this was your first attempt at prose?! Excuse me, but you're a natural
Such violent and intense imagery was captured in this piece, and I loved every minute of it. You really have a way with words; I loved the title, too :]
♥
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When you read this to me, you paused after the 2nd paragraph and I thought that was the ending. I was like "OH MY GOD the ending sentence 'this is their revenge.' SO EPIC"! And then you kept reading so then I was like "crap". It was really good prose and extremely good writing except the tadpole analogy is a little weird. I just loved the ending of the 2nd paragraph.
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going back... i really wanna take out the second two parts...
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I love the last two parts though. They are extremely well written. I am just in love with the "this is their revenge" DUN DUN DUUUNNNNness of it!!!!
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Beautiful, creative piece of prose with excellent metaphors. You did a great job with the prompt! Thanks for entering my gazillion prompt contest. It’s an honor to read your work!
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