dreaming of goddesses, sunflowers and italian sunshine.
yet, every heaven has a hell under its surface.

we long for those we left behind:

Message to Readers

a little something i whipped up a while ago, i need more pieces.

still working on the novel writing contest entry, but a little worried that i won't make it in time...

seven birds

November 13, 2018


..a woman's voice rings out. it's tinny and slightly garbled, but the crystal walls make it echo with an ethereal quality.

i saw all of existence, all at once.

this isn't the first time you've heard this. in any other circumstance, you would say that it sounded like a broken record. but these words sound more like the repetition of a music box.

i saw a dark storm,
a living hunger eating it from within.

in boundaries lost to Time and Space, an obsidian mass approaches. within the mass sits a man, lean, in a crisp suit. his office chair faces the window. there are no blue skies. eyes are everywhere.

but i saw a brilliant light heralded by seven birds
flying tirelessly from the storm.

something murmurs in your mind. a short melody, but it's gone within the instant, like a tendril brushed over your conscious thoughts. it glows with a gentle hum, like a long lost friend's greeting and a mother's soft caress. it begs you to listen.

i saw seven birds.

you see a group of shining silhouettes. there is a sense of loss, of a suffering that's survived millennia, of desperation. but if you stare past the glare, you'll see their faces. and they speak volumes of hope, companionship, and love.

the twins

these identical grins shout of adventures and fire. of umbrellas and found identities. of flavour and diverging paths. of mischief and magic and mic drops. their bond was stronger than anything. but he's forgotten her. he's forgotten...

the lover

her arm is slung around his shoulders, and he's happy, so happy. he would give up life itself just to cling to the memory of her. cursed to be clad in red, he must convince them of what they've lost. he searches for her, searches, searches...

the protector

from when he first stared into his double-sunned sky, he decided to be the shield for those who could not defend themselves. he seeks to carve out a brighter future from that who he's lost. he fights for her. she waits for him with a smile...

the lonely journal keeper

over three hundred days of isolation has aged her more than the forty years stolen in an instant. lost in a wager. she wasn't strong enough. but she makes decisions that no one else is willing to make. she was wrong. she regrets...

the peacemaker

he's old, but has so much more to learn. when faced with a responsibility that should weigh on his shoulders like bricks, he shrugs it off like a jacket he's forgotten how to wear. he is free, yet chained. he understood, once. he's forgotten...

and the wordless one.

his life was the mission. she stole that which gave his life meaning, leaving him as a shell of his former glory. his name was the only thing he kept. his name was all that was left. she regrets...

i saw seven birds.
to those of you who know wtf i'm talking about, you're a nerd and ily.
everyone else go listen to the adventure zone, it's absolutely worth it.


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  • Johanna


    over 1 year ago
  • R.j.Elsewhere

    gET oUT Of heRe. I love this piece sooo much, please preform it next WG meeting

    over 1 year ago
  • The Great Gabs-by

    This is beautiful. When read out loud, it flows smoothly. It is really amazing. Well done!

    over 1 year ago
  • LackingASocialLife

    I second Araw's statement and take it one further- your writing style is the bees bread.

    over 1 year ago
  • Araw

    Your writing style is just the best thing since sliced bread, the bees knees. Well done friend.

    over 1 year ago