The Vigilant DarkHe could only watch from afar. He had tried to draw near to her before, several times in fact, but it never quite seemed to go the way he wanted. Alexander wanted to speak to her, to listen to her voice up close, but she was afraid of him. He didn't know why, but she was. So for now, the only thing he could do was watch and wait in the shadows.The Vigilant Dark by ~SolaceAndSilence
The day was bright outside. He didn't like it all that much. Sunlight hurt. It hurt his eyes, it hurt his skin, it made him feel weak. He preferred to stay secluded to the shadows, embraced in the comforting dark. He cut into a red apple with a scratched knife, leaning up against an alleyway's brick wall, listening to the crunching sound of her steps as she walked across the market square. The sun reflected off her blond hair, tied in a tight bun, as she carried a bucket filled with various fruits and vegetables. She laughed. Alexander loved her laugh. It was a symphony, much like the one that that man Beethoven had written recently. Which one w
SewnI still have nightmares about them sewing my mouth shut.Sewn by ~SolaceAndSilence
It haunts me in my waking dreams, too. The countless hours, hunched over a spinning wheel, would drive me insane if I didn't lapse into them. Any place, even one worse than this wheel, is better if it's just for a little bit. I just wish it were a better place, a better memory. Every time I close my eyes it's like I'm back there again. I can feel the needle piercing through my lips, crisscrossing with hideous black thread trailing behind. I can hear my terrified screams slowly die to a muted mumble as my lips are pulled shut with each pierce and tug. I can taste iron. I feel the abused trickle of tears sliding down my cheeks. Father restricts my movements while Mother sews. He tells me to be quiet, but I can't. He keeps shouting, never once using my name. I scream. I flail. Mother shushes. Eventually, I can't even move my lips. I'm too tired to fight anymore. I wished that it was just a dream, and that at any moment I would wake
We Were SoldiersWe Were SoldiersWe Were Soldiers by ~SolaceAndSilence
The pound of mortars obscured thought. Every new idea and every new realization was instantly blown to oblivion by the jarring thunder of blasting mortar against building, earth, wall, and man, and what respites there were between each round of explosions came few and far between. I'll go insane if this goes on, George only barely ran through his head before another shell shook the trenches. George cradled his head as dirt rained down on the unfortunate soldiers, a disgruntled cry arising from a small group of men involved in a card game. The rat-tat-tat sound of machine gun fire echoed across the battlefield, and another shell burst nearby. The trenches were lined with exhausted soldiers, many involved in menial tasks or games, and even more simply rested against the dirt walls, most unsuccessful at passing into sleep. George was among those many, as only a few days before insomnia took hold of him. The depth of night was only broken by what few working flashlights th
Line OneLine OneLine One by ~SolaceAndSilence
The pen strikes the page,
Marring the white, line paper,
Carving the beginning of a story.
The pen lifts up from the pager,
And pauses, wondering how to continue,
But dives back down to scrawl on the desert plane.
The pen sits down.
It is merely scratching its blood onto the paper,
But no story comes forth from its labor.
Although the pen may ponder
The mysteries of the universe,
It is another thing entirely
To recreate them.
Playing God is not an easy sport.
What is written must play to the rules of sense.
Now the pen must be wondering what God was thinking
When He equipped man with knowledge.
The pen lifts itself up,
A brief brilliant spark igniting its passion.
Down to the page it falls
To carve into history itself.
The spark ignites a fire that,
Instead of fueling the work's engine,
Burns the page to ashes,
Withering God's handiwork.
The pen cruelly scores the line,
A thick black mark ripping through it,
The words never to be rea