The castle was bold on the blue beyond. It stood there as if conjured from the storybook of a child. It was perfect. Amy imagined unicorns in the courtyard, because if those towers could exist, why not? Every stone was even and square, as if those who built were set on perfection, as if they really loved what they made. They were walls made to protect a community, to echo with laughter and be the shelter they needed for the millennia to come.
I sit still on my chair, with no strength to move. My shaky fingers finally come to stop after running restlessly through my messed up hair. I bite down on my lip trying not to burst into tears. This not going to help, it's not going to change anything. I know anyone would laugh at it if they were present here right now. I know there's nothing to feel so despair over a C in a mock test which is supposed to be just for practise. My heart still won't stop racing fast, forcing tears to roll down my face.
I crumple the test paper in my fist and throw it away with all my strength. I shout curses at it, and finally let out my tears. How do you take something not to be a big deal when it is one? Do you just act alright because people would think you are over-reacting? My grades have been the only thing that made me visible, and it even made me 'Miss Popular' at least on exam days. Now I am here with a C, just one small letter written in red ink to send me back to being a nobody, a girl not even good enough to be a 'nerd'.
There is more to every story,
Or so I have heard them saying.
I always gaze into the infinity of the sky,
Observing the sky change its hues at different times of the day,
Seeking answers to a particular paradoxical question -
What about them?
I think in a state of haze.
Are they really happy?
Maybe we are misunderstanding everything;
Maybe they are in the wrong places;
Maybe, they want their fates to change.
Maybe, all that we perceive is them deceiving us.
Maybe, out there is an enigma
Full of anomalies and conundrums -
An obscure love story,
of Apollo and Selene.
Maybe they are in love
But can’t make it past their differences;
Maybe they are lost,
And have strayed from the path
That leads them to each other.
Maybe the dusk and dawn
are their surreal infinities;
Maybe they set and rise,
not for the world,
but for each other.
Maybe the stars glittering,
in the oblivion of the dark night,
are the tears that Selene sheds.
Maybe, Apollo makes the sun burn,
in his jealous rage,
since everyone but him can admire her grandeur.
Maybe the eclipse is the time when
One’s love overpowers the other’s
To create an amalgam of untold stories,
None of us will ever hear.
Maybe those spots on the moon are the impressions
Apollo’s lonely heart has suffered.
Maybe when the thunder sound fulminates
In the foggy, clouded sky,
It is Selene crying to the heavens, mourning in agony.
When the sun gleams through the canopies,
We rejoice, Placing it adjacent to many heavenly pleasures.
But maybe, above there, past the clouds
the two just hurt inside.
Maybe they are grieving,
Alone in the wilderness of their kingdoms,
Unnerved at the thought
of how long it would take for everything to fall into place.
‘Romeo and Juliet’ was a classic literature love,
But this is so much more -
Love that is pure and heavenly;
Love that is silent,
Yet speaks out so loud and clear.
Love, not the whole world could witness.
"I want you to tell your mom that I'm having a check up." My heart beats faster, mind exploding with possibilities. This was the first time that Grandma had insisted on caring about herself... ever. She was my superhero; she would let me drink her medicines when I was sick, leaving her sicker than ever. I can't even react. She isn't giving me a choice. She can never bring herself to watch me suffer, yet she couldn't see that I wasn't going to be fine watching her suffer too.
We have these autopilot submarine tankers. They go to where the sea-storms are and collect the rain, a funnel filling the underwater tank. Then they go to where the fresh water is needed... and it's all done with clean technology. We still do desalination, but this is easy and there's no point in letting all that clean water just fall in the ocean.
I loved to touch him - never in a sexual way, never anywhere other than his face, his hands, his obsidian hair that fell in tousled locks. His warmth would seep into my being and he comforted me without ever opening his mouth. I'd melt into him like ice-cream on a warm porcelain bowl, like I belonged next to him, like he belonged next to me. And each time before we parted the aching to be in his arms would begin anew.
As my dreams linger, dancing in the way that dreams do, I arise to the light of the new day. My feet are ready for the ground, for whatever comes my way. Soon the greetings begin, the chorus of voices in my home, each as sweet as the birdsong.
I am in love with your soul not your body. Your temperament is what lures me into you. Your deep soothing voice is what I crave for and your warmth is what I covet. When you smile at me it seems as if the whole world is mine. When our eyes exchange looks it feels as if everything has paused and belongs right in its place. Your mesmerising oceanic eyes have locked themselves in my mind and only thoughts about you mingle in my head. These feeling I have for you are stronger than just admiration, I think I am falling for you
hard, like the falling of stars.
Come rainbow to make your arch upon the sky, to make your picture where there is no canvas and bring joy without a single word. Come rainbow into this bold blue air and stretch to those clouds that are so pristine in the rays of a new day. Come rainbow and show your colours as pretty as any firework, yet in ways that stay for far longer and in your subtle ways.
They had a sloppy gait as they approached slowly. Their jaws dislocated showing their torn tongues and blood stained teeth. They moaned as they smelt the blood in the air and ate those who fought pinned on the ground. Skin peeled away from their bones and organs, showing their black hearts. Although they did not beat, you could see that organs were torn, how their blood had turn in to a thick turbid brown and how their stomach slowly digested the flesh that was there own.
Becoming independent is an adventure for sure, yet one I want to go into with both eyes open. I can't be one of those as the hampster on the wheel, or one who justifies their days as a way to a comfortable old age... there is so very much more to living: nature, joy, music, dance, friends and love. So as I take these steps to independence, it is with those things as priorities. I want to really live and be so grateful for a the opportunity to do so, not take the blinkers that come with so many "dollar bills."