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The ChangeMiss Basildon liked us. Our parents often let her baby-sit, but they didn't bother telling her where they were going. Before she arrived, they'd write down all the important phone numbers and give them to Anne.The Change by `ThornyEnglishRose
I was the fourth child, so Miss Basildon had been coming since before I could remember. Anne and Lucy told me that she used to lean over my cot, fondling my hands and saying, 'Such sharp little fingers.' Joseph joined them in telling me how she used to pull down my lip with her forefinger and say, 'Such pointed little teeth.' I remember well how she used to run her fingers through my hair and say, 'It grows like ivy, doesn't it, dear?'
I started to avoid her when she came to baby-sit. As there were so many of us, it was easy to get lost. Miss Basildon was happy to read stories to Molly, or to lean over Daniel's cot and cluck. Once, Anne caught me watching her from the doorway, and she said, '
The De'Alselah Lineage Part 1The De'Alselah LineageThe De'Alselah Lineage Part 1 by ~Omega-Killer
Althirious De'Alselah: The First of Many
In the beginning the De'Alselah existed but were just a mere band of Elves. Many considered them worthless and stepped on their pride as if they were just dirt. These elves traveled from one city to the next, begging and stealing just to survive. This lasted for many centuries. Finally, one De'Alselah had enough, he stood up and forged himself a sword that could cut through anything. His name: Althirious. The Katana was named after the mother of Althirious. With it, he gave hope to his people and vowed to make their clan loved by all.
Orkus was the demon that ravaged the south. With Althirious's vow, he went directly towards the demon. However, he was untrained and inexperienced. A sage by the name of Luicifer met him on his travels. The sage revealed himself to be half-demon and banished from the Nine Hells for what he's done. Althirious knew of what people were like, and how the demon culture
life bits_1oarlocks rusted, boats sit idlelife bits_1 by *rlkirkland
peeled paint and weathered wood;
feet and cane carefully placed
the shoreline graced with tears
…her childhood lost to years
morning routine; soft boiled eggs
well-buttered with rashers of bacon
dangers little known – the shellfish reprieved
he'd be hoisted from the bay
untied, he flees with us naked
a knot of boys – 1954
a parting shot pops through the leaves
the dairyman’s son has come unhinged…
consequence quelled; small-town polity
meat-head (just a slab on shoulders)
nit-wit (implying my mental capacity
is on par with a louse’s egg)
childhood terms of endearment
lost to an alcoholic recluse
subdued light and quiet chatter
small talk; what’s kept us apart?
unusual silence from one so apt to speak
we glance her way frequently
O sing, museI fell asleep once with my memory caughtO sing, muse by ~hallosse
in tadpoles and roses and water and light,
in the mausoleum where bloodshot eyes
And paper meet (where ideas drop from nubby pencils,
to splay, stillborn, across a sea of white).
My pen bled circles
through my desk that night.
When I woke, you were standing
on the edge of my sight,
your eyelids trailing ink.
I watched your hands fold in and out,
The smell of words too strong to think.
You smiled at me and let me fall
into the promise of your face.
There I read snowflakes, sea-foam and angels;
flashes of of glory and splinters of grace.
I asked you in, and your words behind -
'Sing, muse, of roses and water and light,'
I was fool enough to call them mine -
My pen bled circles
through my desk that night.
Dripping RedHe was the perfect soldier, like a white
pawn on an inky board. Innocent fray:
'Unstained', they named the better man
Who swore to find the other side of Day.
He followed every order graven in
Cold stone. He never broke the dusty chains
Of honor, twisting close around his heart;
The iron singing thunder in his veins.
He dreamed about Tomorrow, the other
side of day. Tear-streaked morning never came,
Rain-washed. The only dawn was drowned in blood
And ringed in coiled dragons: rising flame.
The tide of blood that stained horizons, weep-
ing, splattered gently on his brittle face,
He buried, dead, in rushing water deep.
His hands were clean, without a traitor stain.
His men lie around him, dead at whispered last,
The light of life drains out behind their eyes;
(The clanging horrors of his dreams, cracked glass,
Were false. Despair in icy silence reigns.)
The only color left to him is red,
To mock brave, innocent and silent white:
An afterglow of symmetry he once
Believed could end the sc
The Mirror Cracked'A blazing wave devours white shore,'
The poets muse on Feanor,
While they should wish him nothing more
Than swiftly falling ash.
In reckless words we forged our fate,
In white-hot script for cracking slate,
Each syllable the world's weight -
But gladly were we crushed.
I saw blood in the soft sea wrack;
Each sea-elf dead a mirror's crack
In our own faces staring back
From all the noble slain.
In Dior's blessed and empty face
I searched for us but found no trace.
The mirror shattered. Only grace
We bear no more stared back.
The waves closed over Elwing's head,
Dissolved the Light that silver bled
Into a face that held no dread;
So different from ourselves.
Not princes now, nor kings, but thieves,
And reckless as the falling leaves,
We take the Jewels and my heart grieves:
For all the world is stained.
For this the final Doom we bear:
In blood spilt red as Nelyo's hair;
The golden Vanyar lying there
Dead, even as our hearts.
The living Light is agony;
A shining, sharp finality:
A leap i
MajestyBlack the night that closed around me,
(Now I see!)
When I listened as He promised
Long I waited; still she turned and
Looked on you!
Son of few years, quickly fading:
Shadows steals across the City,
I shall drown both star and candle:
Bring the Night.
See the furnace-glow of crimson?
Hear the roar?
To Doom I have brought completion:
Bloody chaos breaks around me,
I shall find her – she'll forget you:
But your arms are strong as iron,
Have no doubt;
Past the rail meant to save me
I spill out.
Seven times they jagged crush me,
'Til I fall no more but lie here-
Blood-stained rise the walls above me,
As light through deep water darkly:
Ragged, now, my cloak of glory,
Here in silence ends this story:
Here lies dead.
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