Fortune City Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a city filled with dust. It entered through the cracks in the floorboard and covered her world in a dull coat of grime. Small footsteps lay in the dust beside two fallen bodies. The howling wind erases the girl's whimpering; like two motherly banshees it fingers at her dirty blonde curls and coos reassurances into her tiny ears...
Lucas falls to the ground snorting, "Your ears are NOT tiny!"
Olivia stands up and throws her journal at him. It hits his head with a satisfying crack but does nothing to deter the obnoxious laughter exploding from his throat.
"Oh shut it, you were not suppose to read that!"
He lifts his hands into the air and backs up slowly. "Hey, that's what happens when you leave your back
Post-Apocalyptica 'snip-it' "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said. Her eyes flashed in the fading light of the setting sun. Lucas enjoyed the brief instances he got to see her gold-flecked eyes, even when they glared at him reproachfully. She saw him staring and quickly smashed the dirty goggles over her head and turned away.
"It's just a habit." He flicked the lighter on one last time then shoved it in his dirt filled pocket. The memory of the flame left a dancing imprint just behind his eyelids. He wondered what the fire would look like reflected in the depths of Olivia's eyes. She turned towards him and scowled.
"Could you stop daydreaming and help me."
"You hardly need any help."
"Then just go and guard the truck."
Lucas muttered something under his breath abo
Post-Apocalyptica Painted unicorns dance in a field of ash; their bodies are skewered on metal poles. A pale hand grasps the pole and pushes it forward. The unicorns fill the wasteland with their screeching and groaning. Olivia's spine tingles as the sound moves in a dust storm around her head. Even this horrid sound is preferable to the lament of the dead.
She lays her head against the unicorn's mane and sighs. The flaking paint shivers under her breath and breaks off to join the other pieces glinting in the dirt. The merry-go-round is almost devoid of color now and soon Olivia must move on, but not yet. The magic has not faded, yet.
Her hair matches the color of the unicorn, bone white and dry. However, despite the plague of pessimism that followed the apocalypse, her hair still manages to curl and bounce as she trudges on. Her eyes, too, hold a light deemed i
Daughter of WarToxic Moonlight bleaches the back of a lone warrior.
It falls like rain down her spine,
Carving pearl colored tattoos into
The grime that has stained her skin black.
The dagger at her thigh rests uneasily in its scabbard
And the arrows on her back quiver in anticipation
Of the coming storm. The beat of her heart is in
Perfect rhythm with the solemn war drum,
Its moan can be heard in the distant and felt in the
Land. She bows her head to the long grass
Tangled in her hands and whispers prayers to
No one. Her eyes gleam, her smile cracks;
Turning into a broken sword's edge.
She lifts her head and howls a strained
War cry to the enemies crouching around her,
The shadows retreat slightly, revealing
Sharpened blade tips pointing in her direction.
A sigh escapes the ambush to float tranquilly
On the breeze. It leaves the carnage to stir
Dust in an empty corner of a forgotten shrine.
She was the daughter of Eve and Hades.
Her body molded by nature;
Her soul, a pile of smoldering a
Seven Deadly HaikusA heart pumps poison
Into the dainty chest of
A young girl scorned.
Pale hands snatch away
Gold coins placed on lovers' eyes.
Charon is quiet.
Heads loll back on gaunt
Workers' shoulders. Crooked grins
Snap like leather whips.
Magic mirrors speak
Lies spun into gold by those
Who want to hear them.
Hades rapes Eve in
Eden, leaving her only
Her breasts are not ripe,
Hair not bleached, skin not
Loved by Apollo.
So she eats their words,
Ink-stained lips wet with glee, sweet
Sins locked and loaded.