Post by shatteredheart ! on Nov 7, 2009 16:17:32 GMT -5
SHATTEREDHEART !
( PAPER HEARTS STRUCK BY DARTS ! )
( PAPER HEARTS STRUCK BY DARTS ! )
( winter skin & chilly thoughts ! ) A certain pushed off danger haunted and whispered every living inhabitant of the land during this winter time. Chills reaping the strength and marrow from your bones, puckering your skin, piercing their cleavers and knives through your little felt coat. ( butchers of the season ! ) Winds blowing off your hat, stealing it away for itself. This late morning Shatteredheart had decided to escape the abominates, twisted works, and pressures of society and social requirements. She wanted to throw it all away, right into an incinerator, ( burn baby burn ! ). Before she died she wanted to take a pen and just write out everything they had stuffed into her aching mind, writing everything out with bleeding red ink. For a moment she almost laughed in spite of the slight tang of anger hung in the mist of those thoughts. Distracting herself, though the gears would always be turning in her mind, she made a beeline for the Wildflower Meadow, such a quaint place she had hidden in during new leaf and green leaf, its depth of balletic flowers and fluttering grasses and wise trees gave such intrigue to the medicine cat as she plucked away the herbs that had been gifted to her ebony ( thieving ! ) paws. Despite the pounds of snow that had slumped from the broken, mosaic firmament, gray clashing with the cerulean eyes trying to peep through a sleepy haze, the brittle grass still swayed. The tireless dancers rotating and gyrating about the stage, masks never to be peeled away, ( burned into thy skin ! ). Perhaps that was why should found peace, for nature changed its skin every season, a certain envy she would always wish for although permanency was the tight blanket that kept her safe and stuck in dreams, for those whimsical thoughts were always best for her soul. When she arose in the morning, the shock of reality tore down her heart, thread by thread. Taking away its entire existence, leaving her a statuette, placid and plastic. No place seemed safe to let her walls collapse, for someone always appeared, and none should be faced with the wrath of her Pandora's box syndrome. Whether an aggressive demon would fly out of her claws and teeth, anger seething through every nerve in her mind, or a suicidal distress, we shall not know. Though she felt her walls weakening, cracking, crumbling, ready to burst.
( escaping the chains of society ! ) Rolling hills to her back, their cascading nature like that of a fairytale when tromping through a forbidden forest ( ignoring your mother`s word ! ) or escaping the gun shots or poisoned apples. Gossamer figure, a silhouette against the bleached grass, barely hanging onto the blond coloration as it fading into drabness, a certain intrigue in the landscape that lacked any true color or accent. There was only compensation for the iron fist of winter, ( sharpening its knives ! ) all the colors melting away, nothing to displease the scenery or Yarrow. Shatteredheart found herself in the depth of the grass, a black sheep in a white flock, never to be hidden or concealed. It left her feeling exposed in a strange way, that winter offered no hiding place but the night. Yet the winter was beautiful, a swan after the ugly duckling of the fall while it was shedding its down. A sigh, visible in the bitter, chilling air, rolling out like toxic vapor, lost as the frigid air claimed the expelled breath as its own. Shatteredheart's eyes studied the scene and slowly reclined upon her haunches, trying to find solace and peace of mind in the scenery that was swaying like an optical illusion about her. Her eyes blinked at the skies that had parted into a blue sky, the little sun child peeking through the clouds, its smile reflecting off of the snow, a field of mirrors that lit up the entire landscape sprawled before her eyes, even the swaying vegetation had small glimmers and glances dancing about. ( light for the darkest mood ! )
word count : seven hundred forty four.
