hey there, did it hurt when you fell? cuz you're the only ten I see.
Page 120Turn to page 120.
It's written in the margins of every volume, in the blank pages at the front and back, over and over again, in shiny brown ink. Turn to page 120.
Childish scribbles in a set of ruined books, I knew, the reason this encyclopedia was dirt-cheap at a yard sale. I didn't care: who needs a paper encyclopedia these days? I bought it because it was too good a deal to pass up, because I thought it'd make me look learned, academic. The encyclopedia aesthetic. And I did find it amusing to poke around in, scribbles aside: outdated information preserved in ink and paper, brief summaries of complex concepts, the occasional racist aside. An old encyclopedia is a world unto itself. And wherever there was once a white space the same message: turn to page 120.
Who wouldn't be curious? It takes minimal effort to find a certain page: you don't have to expect much of a payoff for that to be worth it. Of course I turned to page 120.
Every volume I checked, it was the
after the party.He's drunk in the backseat.
"Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.
Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.
I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to with all ten fingers, as if it's a bible and he's lying on his deathbed.
I flick my gaze to the old country road ahead, a blurry blue smear of early morning.
"Anna. Anna, I wanna keep her pictures." There's a glint of something in my peripherals, and then a pop, a cool hiss.
"Put the booze down. I don't need you throwing up in my godd
the rose pile.The rose pile,
a butchered St. Valentine’s Massacre--
I wonder where the color went.
If I die,
will I only see black and white?
dirtied air stings my eyes
and considerations dissipate.
There are certain nights
I can only think in terms of
predator and prey,
but whatever my echoes,
time tuts and turns he back on me.
The newspaper hush
kept my devastation quieted.
Somehow it always comes back to
faces in the crowds,
roots gasping up from the dirt,
a body count in the bustling streets.
Sometimes my eye hooks itself to a certain face
and drives truth through its temple
like a rusting stake.
I never touched a skeletal basement
nor brushed my fingers to its razored walls,
but the screams reverberate just the same
until all suffering becomes white noise--
fruit blossoms from these wounds,
these peaches shedding blood or dripping juices.
I think about
the wood splinter in the grayscale mechanism,
how fascist teeth gnaw the boulevards.
I see a sister,
Exit, Stage Left"You're lonely," he said.
Thelma jumped, startled. She might not have even heard his voice over the thumping dance music, but it was just at that moment where there was a temporary lull between songs. He stood nearby, his head slightly tilted. Thelma glanced behind her, his words ricocheting in her mind - she wasn't sure what was more surprising, what he'd said or that he'd noticed and bothered to relay this observation to her at all. He was good-looking, tall and thin with artfully spiky hair, but something about him struck her as unsettling. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, or that his eyes were oddly piercing, but either way she felt herself straightening, suddenly alert.
"Yes, I am talking to you," he said, looking amused. "You're Thelma, right?"
"Yeah..." she replied, trying to play off her momentarily confusion, tucking a strand of her auburn, shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "Sorry, and you're...?"
She smiled hopefully, but though her tone was apologetic, she herself
Rose and IrisThey loved their garden;
Mother and Daughter would spend
Hours in the sun.
Behind their house was
Green dotted with red, yellow,
Pink and countless more.
Mother loved roses;
Daughter preferred irises.
They planted with care.
They watched the sun rise
While blowing dandelions,
And mimicked at dusk.
Their birdbaths brought in
Winged visitors who were
Greeted with bird seed.
All meals were eaten
On a polka-dot blanket;
Nothing but home-cooked.
Looking for funny-shaped clouds,
Climbing the oak tree.
They ran, danced and sang,
Never tiring of their
Love for each other.
Daughter did not think
That her days with Mother would
Ever reach an end.
When the doorbell rang,
And Mother answered the door,
Daughter heard her scream.
"I want to see her,"
Said the angry man outside,
Firearm in hand.
Fits of drunken rage,
Screams, scars, curses and regrets
Ran through Mother's mind.
She slammed the do
Thinking BluesI was thinking about the concept
of the dues we all must pay.
Yes, I was thinking about the concept
of the dues we all must pay.
If you have paid them already,
there are more on the way.
If you should feel that you are tired
but sleep will not come -
if you should feel that you are tired
but sleep will not come,
I can play you a lullaby
on my big bass drum.
You should always speak your mind,
unless it's time to be still.
Yes, always speak your mind,
unless it's time to be still.
You'll know you did too much talking
when they send you the bill.
You can be seen by the software
that monitors the street.
It is always, always watching
and it monitors the street.
So keep your hat pulled down low,
make your actions discreet.
Mr. Bones and Ms. Lucy
went out dancing last night.
Mr. Bones and Ms. Lucy
went out dancing last night.
And now Mr. Bones is smiling,
but he doesn't seem right.
The freedom train was coming,
then it went right on by.
Oh, the freedom train was coming,
then it went right on
GraceThe hands that cast the mould that made the plough
that dug the dirt for crops to make the dough
that makes our bread - they let us grow.
The souls who drive the trucks each waking hour
from farm to store to shop give us our power -
it makes them dead - and we devour.
Each morsel grows from dirt to plant to food
we tear a piece and sell so it's construed
we do our bit - we don't - we just collude.
And while each toiler keeps us from our graves
so we keep them trapped in their enclaves,
to tell ourselves each night - we don't own slaves.
In Vain of VenusThis is the tale of the beauty of Venus
and how she was showered with love.
Men would come from afar to sail
to her and profess, How I love thee, Aphrodite!
their tries, however, ended in vain and death,
and while she lived, immortal, on her planet.
Twas not until Hermes came to her planet
And cried, oh great Venus!
Let me have thee, even if death
doth end my life tomorrow, love.
Let me give you my heart, Aphrodite,
and together, around the world, we could sail.
But the goddess did not want to sail
and she felt weary of leaving her planet.
I do not love thee, said Aphrodite
And sent heartbroken Hermes from Venus.
He traveled back to Earth, rejected, unloved.
and after many eons, found Death.
However she may not love you, said Death,
and may reject the beauty of your sail.
You will find solace in my love.
Though I may not have a planet
as beautiful as her Venus.
I will love you more than Aphrodite.
The North Star once fell in love with a girl.
But she was only human, and she passed away.
When he first saw her, she was very young—fifteen, maybe sixteen, her hair falling into her eyes as she bent down to pluck a dandelion from the ground. She was so small in that field of grass, so golden in the daylight.
She took his breath away.
He floated downwards, hoping for a closer look. He was almost invisible, save for the hint of stardust that trailed behind him in the late afternoon sun.
Though he made no sound, she turned. The dandelion seeds sprayed into the air with her movement. Her eyes widened—such eyes, dark and dazzling, the color of liquid shadows and obsidian. He lost himself into those eyes, fell into them so deeply that he could not speak. They studied each other in silence.
"Who are you?" she said at last.
"I am the North Star," he said, in a voice as soft as the whispering breeze. "I come from the skies."
She laughed. Perhaps she did not bel
The Top Five Reasons Why Lucy- (NaLu one-shot)
"The Top Five Reasons Why Lucy Heartfilia Should Totally Date Me"
When Lucy awoke in the morning, or rather decided to get out of bed as she hadn't slept a wink the night before, the absolute last thing she expected to see was a tiny folded pink piece of paper sitting a few inches from her door.
She stared at it, her head feeling foggy from the lack of sleep, but her heart still pounding nonetheless. Stupid Natsu. He was the reason. And there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that that piece of paper was from him, either.
It wasn't a surprise exactly, that Natsu finally got up the gumption to ask her out. She wasn't as dense as he was, and she knew he liked her. She knew, and yes, she reciprocated those feelings to a point, but when he'd actually come up to her the past night, just outside her apartment door and officially asked her out on a date… she'd panicked.
She buried her now burning face in her hands. She'd been so stupid. When he'd asked her, her jaw had nearly hit
Under Your Spell (NaLu one-shot)
Under Your Spell
Lucy swore she'd never seen Natsu this excited for anything in his life. And being as Natsu was probably the most excitable person on this half of the planet… that meant something.
She wasn't sure who'd started the rumor that some craftsman in Magnolia had created a new magic item that could hypnotize people, but she was pretty positive it was Gray… or Gajeel… or someone who wanted to make Natsu look like a buffoon.
Magic items were prevalent in the town, mainly because Fairy Tail was what Magnolia was known for, so if anyone came to visit, most likely they were mages, or were interested in becoming wizards. That, or they couldn't use magic, and they wanted a souvenir. So, in turn, there were a lot of knock-offs of magic items that children or tourists bought, simply as a replica and something that said 'hey, I went to Magnolia and saw the Fairy Tail guild'. Sometimes it was still hard to believe she was actually a part of this guild, th
730 Days (Gruvia one-shot)
Time flew. Juvia had heard the term many times before, but it had never rung true. When the rain was constant, it seemed as if her days lasted for an eternity a piece. They were so long and dreary in fact that she couldn't even imagine ever saying that "time flew by". She remembered feeling the urge to glare at those who said it. What did they know? They had no idea how long life seemed.
But now… time really did fly.
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile as she bounced on her toes in anticipation. She had counted every single day, every single hour, every single second that she'd been with Gray. Ever since the day they'd met she'd been counting. Things had changed drastically, but her undying love for him had stayed the same. To her, every day with him was a day to celebrate. She usually tried to keep it to herself –she knew he didn't think such things were worthy of celebration- but sometimes it was just too much to hold in.
She made him thin