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Holy Ghost: Chapter 2Lovino scrambled out of the bed, but fell to the floor with a smash.
"Ugh...hurts so bad...but so lazy...to get up..."
He crawled on the floor trying to find his way with his eyes shut from the brightness of the morning sun. 'How does Maria deal with this every morning?' he thought. He finally reached what he thought was a door handle and turned it. To his surprise and dissatisfaction, what he thought was the exit door was really the laundry closet. All sorts of assortments of clothing fell on the sleepy Italian. He try to crawl away, but the weight of dresses and parasols were far too much. He laid there with a pile of clothes on his back.
"Well, at least it's the nice laundry smell..."
He started to doze off once more, letting the warm clothes overcome all of his senses,
Maria's little feet pattered against the hard wood. In her small voice, she mumbled, "They'll never find me here!"
She ran down the hall into her large room. The large balcony window was open, and the sun was se
Holy Ghost: Chapter 1Maria had awoken from her deep slumber.
"Aye, today seems like a wonderful day, I must seize it! Hehe, sounds like something Grandpa would say..."
She stirred, but oddly enough, bumped into something. Under her covers was her older brother, Feliciano Vargas, dozing off. She smiled, kissed her brothers drool-drenched cheek, and went on the other side of the bed. To her surprise, she found yet another body! This time it was her other, more serious brother Lovino, deep in sleep.
"Even when he sleeps, he seems so pensive!"
She quietly went over her brothers and tiptoed out the door.
"Pleasant dreams, my brothers."
She closed the grand doors, leaving her brothers to dream.
Maria Constantina Vargas. That's what it said on the card the Vargas twins received so many years ago. It was like a present from God. Well, it WAS a present from God, as addressed in the gold-ordained letter. "Take good care of her. Love, God." It was strange. The brothers were devout Catholics, but this, they could
Running through my veins,
Like marathons, it rolls
Down my spine
Up again along that line
Heading towards the crook of my neck
I got to make sure
That I'm all set and checked
Like the bomb I am.
Because this heart
Is just too big
And this soul
Is too large
For this small,
Body to take.
Take them down
Take them all down
Because this world spins too fast
And I can't make it last.
It's too loud for you guys to take
The ringing in your ear might make it break.
It's just fascinating!
Thousands of pieces fly
Making their places in the earth, wind, waters, and sky.
My words are that powerful
I will reach you with my lines
I don't need any other sign
Before I blaze
Ten years old
Nine years to come
Eight years gone
Seven years lost
Six years remembered
Five years forget
Four years gone
Three years my return.
Two years done.
There is always one more year to go.
There Was A GirlThere was a girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old
And she didn't understand how real this world was.
This girl lived life happily, until one day.
One day, her daddy left her
And her sister.
And her mommy.
She watched him turn his back.
And all she heard from him was
"I give up. I can't handle you crazies anymore."
Her mommy cried.
Her family cried.
Heck, that little girl cried too.
But not because he left, no.
Because she thought it was her fault.
She thought she hurt everybody.
Was it because she didn't like her daddy?
Is that why everyone was sad?
She lived life like that for awhile.
Thinking she caused pain for others.
She was quiet, scared to talk, scared to stand up for herself.
Her daddy always told her that she was better off with him in her life.
Always telling her that her mother
Who worked from 9 to 5 and came home to cook the dinner
Wasn't doing a good job.
She hated herself as a mother.
She thought she wasn't a good daughter.
A good sister.
A good friend.
Then, she realized
Silly NotionsAt times, I don't much understand.
The world is so very fast
How is it possible to keep track.
Then again, you come to me
And find the guts to say
You don't very much like me.
I don't very much care
It's funny how
You think I might care
I do care, to some extent,
About you, that is.
Why come up with such a notion?
Don't I try to be nice and considerate?
So what if I'm different, isn't everybody?
Do I need an excuse to voice my views?
This is who I am, I'm already made, no need for extra clay.
I have no need for your silly notions.
What? Please, don't roll those eyes.
Because those who do that,
Just can't face the harsh reality
That silly notions, such as yours
Will never receive good criticism in our very changing world.
Good-bye. Have a nice day.
And please, make sure
To wipe that disgust off your face.
Like Any...Normal Day?Arthur was making his way through the International School of Worlds. He had a pile of history books that Veronique had forgotten to return to the library.
"Oh dear...it's another one of THOSE days..." Arthur grumbled to himself, not paying attention to where he was walking to. He knew the halls of the school like the back of his hand, usually dodging the other walking nations. However, this time, he crashed into someone out of uniform.
Rubbing his head, he asked in a fury
"Excuse ME, but watch where YOU are going...Why aren't you in uniform? Do you know I am school president? I can get you detention.
The young girl bowed furiously in the middle of her apologies. Her voice was sweet and high, almost like another person he knew. She had long, raven black hair, untied, that ended right at the base of her back. Her clothes were...not very much in style, but not very raggedy either. Her large brown eyes contrasted strangely with her tan skin.
"I'm so sorry. I am a cousin to many countries
Sunburnt Tomatoes: Chapter 3It was raining.
She hated the rain.
"Why does it have to rain today out of all days?"
Maria looked out her large window to the garden. The roses weren't shining as they usually were when the sun shined. She left her room, her dress dragging at the tail, for breakfast. She rushed to the kitchen, but she bumped into someone as she made her way.
"Oops sorry-ah, I am terribly sorry, your holiness..."
She bumped into the current Pope at the time, Pope Clement VII. He was a stoic man, his face pointy looking. His long beard was ragged and tangled and gray, and his nose looked as if it was going to point an eye out. He was a Medici, the most powerful family in all of Italy, centralized in Florence.
"Maria, watch where you are going next time. Next time, instead of your eyes wandering the Vatican, let it wander through a Holy Scripture."
He walked away. his red, white, and gold robe gliding along the carpet. She wondered about that man. He always seem to be scheming something.
A Little HopeIt flickered my way.
Like a little piece of hope.
How are you?
Will you help me?
It flickered a yes.
And I followed it.
Out of the dark labyrinth that 'was' my mind.
I was so young.
Looking that far back.
I wonder what that light was really doing there.
Was it there to save another lost soul?
I was lost.
But was I lost enough?
It makes me laugh now.
The thought, I mean.
Hope made its way down the long, dark corridors.
Cobwebs for drapery.
All of this.
Hope floated along.
It ignored all of this.
As it passed
Cobwebs became silver.
Dust was swept away
So windows can be seen.
Look, said the small hope I had left.
I looked and was surprised
At what a world 'could' be like.
I looked at my hope and faith
Gathered in that little ball of light
With tears in my eyes.
Can this really be?
Can such a world really exist?
It flickered a thoughtful yes.
And like the young girl I was
I popped open the window
I can tell you, it was
IdeasIt crawls up my spine.
Through every vertebrae I can feel it.
One, two, three, it went through.
This thing that crawls up my spine.
Right where my neck is.
It sits there.
Making the little hairs stand on end.
Does it really have this much control.
It continues through the back of my neck.
It drills into my skull.
Making one small hole.
Big enough that it can fit itself through.
These monosyllables, these words
Cannot express it.
It courses through my brain.
Swimming through all my thoughts.
Until It lodges itself somewhere
In the soft tissues of my mind.
This wonderful thing we call an idea.
One, two, three more come.
Up my spine,
Through every vertebrae,
Resting at my neck,
Making the small hairs stand,
One, two, three more,
Drill holes my skull,
Courses through my brain,
Swimming in my thoughts,
And they all take their place,
In the vast web that is my mind.
Taking a corner there, and a corner here,
And they work.
These 'its,' these ideas
AmaranthineCast your dreams
To your body's tide
When your mind opens wide
All things end
Yet there's no goodbyes
From within your own eyes
Master.My mind, my master.
My heart, a disaster.
Life's not going anywhere,
but it's definitely getting faster.
JigsawI am a puzzle
Each piece is a part of my life
Its one that takes decades to finish
It doesnt happen over night.
Each piece of the puzzle contributes to who i am
But its more than an image, you see
Alone its just a simple aspect
But put it all together, and you have me
Some are small, but so dear to my heart
Others are jagged and feel like they dont fit
Some might be tough to place, but never quit
Heres to all the pieces, no matter where they are
The good times,
The bad times,
The stories for every scar.
They might seem disastrous when they fall into our lives,
But its what make me, me
One piece at a time
The pieces for passion
The ones for never giving up
The ones for falling in love with music
The ones for finding happiness in pain
For the times laughing until you cry,
Playing guitar until your fingers bleed,
For loving what you do and what it does for you,
For never questioning your beliefs
For the times you learnt the hard way,
The hardships youve came by,
The times you thought you
How far gone? (Updated)Just because there's words
Doesn't mean there's a thought behind them.
(The slate was wiped clean.)
Just because my eyes are open
Doesn't mean I'm awake.
(I fell asleep long ago.)
I may be hearing
But that doesn't mean I'm listening.
(I've tuned into another station frequency.)
I may have been touched
But that doesn't mean I feel.
(I'm long past numb.)
Though I eat
I shan't taste.
(The food has been bland since before this.)
I wouldn't want to wake up.
(Your world is terrifying.)
My mind's eyes are completely closed
I like where I am.
(My world is nice. My world is safe. They can't get to me here.)
I'm in my bubble.
How far gone am I?
I can't take
All the pain I see.
(It shouldn't effect me.)
I feel like screaming
At the world.
(As if that would do anything.)
It's like torture
(Because I can't help you. I don't know how.)
So I'm hurting.
(I feel lost, you're always my constant.)
What do I do?
How can I help you?
(Please don't go! I need yo
What do I write?I don't know what to write.
There's so much on my mind,
So many things that could take flight!
But I don't know what to write.
I could talk about inadequacy.
How I was lazy and immature and didn't listen in school.
How I don't have much vocab and my grammar is as useful as a broken tool.
How I don't write much because I'm afraid of appearing as a fool.
I could speak on inadequacy.
Then there's always anger.
How people say I'm good at art when all I see is a twelve year old's lines.
How my freedom is restricted and I'm just confined to two places.
How my friends don't respond and I sit here in stasis.
Yeah. I could write about anger.
But how about guilt?
How I've been such a asshole to my family in recent months.
How I've not stayed in touch with the friends who're living in hell.
How I screw up often and end up hating myself and not leaving my shell.
I don't know.
Maybe I just care too much.
Writing at OxfordBetween the dusty pages of
drunken novellas and tragic plays,
a small ferret creeps and a young girl strays.
Enticed by a fantasy mirror and
lightly cut by a subtle blade,
the fabrics between worlds gently part
and literature is new and made.
A delicate array of alternate ideas
welded together within the parchment of a book.
Be careful how far you peer between
the never-ending lines of flowing ink.
Beware of your ever changing daemons and
ensure you don’t fall for their trick.
For they would have you think that
there is nothing more behind these shelves.
The truths they do hastily conceal as
there is more than you could ever believe.
Keep your friends closer, your enemies closer still.
You’ll never know where you may meet as
you hide behind your wandering quill.
SmileI am the clippings.
The shards and the trimmings.
The thrown away and wasted, stitched and pasted.
Lost and Fragmented.
But I'll put on a smile and pretend I'm not dented.
On Wax WingsSpeak not softly
of your troubled fate
Huddled late, cross at the
Loss of doubled rates
Prostitute your sorrows
til the morrow can't come
Mind: scant and numb,
You borrowed some horrors
For you to Tell, See, Believe
Starve her beastly cheap when she's deceived,
Upheaved and ruptured,
As you yet corrupt her,
Leave her upstirred in life's broken structures
Who ever said you can see beyond the sun?
Beyond the moon, the sword, and beyond the gun?
Who ever claimed you could walk the seven seas
Through heaven's fire and through its dreaded breeze?
And thread with ease a Gordian knot at whim, known,
While playing your accordion hot with prim tones,
and prone to the thoughts of the world before you
Kneel, adore you to the core you deplore through?
Prostitute your every degradation
Blame it all off with prevarication
Declare with patience that you just can't face it
Deny your dishonesty, then embrace it
You harmed me,
Lied, defied, denied
And tried to get by
on wax wings to fly too high
Random Sugar Cubes"Sometimes the universe wants to be noticed and today, the universe decided to call to me in the form of your smile."
"Cloud mountains conceal"
"If you're a good learner, you'll be a horrible teacher, and, boy, am I good at learning."
Knowing the difference between yes and no
Uptight, straight board
Cheap smiles liquor lips
That's the best way to hide it"
These HandsThese hands,
Worn out from the long years of before.
I find it
Harder to breathe sometimes, I suppose.
But today, for some reason,
I lay here
In my old, musty bed,
Gasping for whatever air I can find.
That was once fresh and young
Is on the verge of total insanity
And slowly, just slowly
Taking away what I thought I loved.
Made these hands
These hands, now thin with age
Has made scratches throughout the decades.
With these hands
I have hurt
The ones I should've loved.
And with these hands
I pray with.
The same hands that I hurt with, I pray.
Please, take my already resting soul.
It is prepared to go.
I am sorry for all the hurt I have caused.
These hands then clench my chest.
My last bit of air, I suppose.
These bloodshot eyes
Slowly come to a close.
These hands then free themselves from their
I can finally rest
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More