The innocence of a child should never be taken for granted. Nor should it be played as fools. Instead, it should be taken as a weapon of the greatest kind: imagination. A child given a throne, per chance that both parents have fallen to a horrible death, should take their brains and run with it.
All this child could do was sit and smile.
"Knighty, do I look pretty?" A girl had asked within the chambers of her room. Her snow white hair had been pulled back, braid tying around her hair before falling over her shoulders, the rest of it spreading to her waist. She wore a bright, flower-patterned dress, red rose petals scattered
"Can you come home yet?"
Bright blue eyes, once vibrant, were clouded with sorrow as she looked up at the man before her. His hair, pale white and ruffled about atop his head, had been pulled back into a loose ponytail. Gray orbs showed weary years, much disfigured from his young body. He tapped long fingers against the table, the clicking of his nails making guards glance over in worry.
"Not yet, no." he whispered, smirking. His smile grew larger as his rhythm suddenly stopped, teeth like a shark's showing from behind his lips. "In time. I have a plan." The man continued, leaning back in his chair and beginning to giggle.
"N-Nik, please
Goodbye. Such a simple word, and tied to it, so many emotions. Hate, happiness, rage, remorse. Seven words that could make or break someone's life; such a word is misunderstood. Such a word deserves second chances. Everything tied to it is nothing but immense destruction, or the biggest relief of a lifetime. But what is the real definition of 'goodbye'? It's simply a saying. Everyone else decides to strap labels onto it like a horse and ride it into the ground, unmoving and ice cold.
'Goodbye' was the last thing he said to her. He had not meant for it to be; he was furious, face red, hair falling over swollen, gray eyes. Cheeks were streak
The ever-forgotten wasteland
of the decapitated filth.
Forever driven down in its wealth;
taken for granted, they've come to their death.
Drowning in the seas of liars,
of lust,
of the last resort.
When everything's fallen to ashes;
when there's nothing left to smile towards.
The open flesh wound,
bleeding for
forgiveness
in sanctions.
This is what I call home.
No One's Got It All ::Part 1:: by cmoonlitstars, literature
Literature
No One's Got It All ::Part 1::
I'm the Hero
In his arms rested a man with open eyes of jade.
Skin fair, light, and gentle.
In his arms rested a man with a loose grip.
This grip clung to the reddened shirt.
And in his arms rested a man with a bullet through his chest.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The silence echoed as the man trembled, unsure of what to do or say.
His mind was racing, his heart was speeding. The road was darkening; he was losing his way.
His name was Andy.
The one in his arms was Nikolai.
He had just lost his brother to a blazing shot that should have hit him.
And all he could seem to do was whimper, "I'm the hero."
And he would grow louder, his
Shellshock ::Prologue:: by cmoonlitstars, literature
Literature
Shellshock ::Prologue::
"Forever alone."
Isn't that what they said?
They watched his body crumble, yet keep its shape in all possible ways. The hollow chest he held on his body was nothing more than a mere existence. What more could they ask for from a male with Shellshock syndrome, a child nonetheless?
Nothing.
So forever alone he shall stay.
Forever alone in the four walls they kept him in, light rarely shining through the tiny slit of what was presumed to be a window within his holding cell; the walls were a dark, craggy gray that held no light atmosphere to it whatsoever. All that was enclosed was a boy and an electronic pad for communication purposes to th
The innocence of a child should never be taken for granted. Nor should it be played as fools. Instead, it should be taken as a weapon of the greatest kind: imagination. A child given a throne, per chance that both parents have fallen to a horrible death, should take their brains and run with it.
All this child could do was sit and smile.
"Knighty, do I look pretty?" A girl had asked within the chambers of her room. Her snow white hair had been pulled back, braid tying around her hair before falling over her shoulders, the rest of it spreading to her waist. She wore a bright, flower-patterned dress, red rose petals scattered
"Can you come home yet?"
Bright blue eyes, once vibrant, were clouded with sorrow as she looked up at the man before her. His hair, pale white and ruffled about atop his head, had been pulled back into a loose ponytail. Gray orbs showed weary years, much disfigured from his young body. He tapped long fingers against the table, the clicking of his nails making guards glance over in worry.
"Not yet, no." he whispered, smirking. His smile grew larger as his rhythm suddenly stopped, teeth like a shark's showing from behind his lips. "In time. I have a plan." The man continued, leaning back in his chair and beginning to giggle.
"N-Nik, please
Goodbye. Such a simple word, and tied to it, so many emotions. Hate, happiness, rage, remorse. Seven words that could make or break someone's life; such a word is misunderstood. Such a word deserves second chances. Everything tied to it is nothing but immense destruction, or the biggest relief of a lifetime. But what is the real definition of 'goodbye'? It's simply a saying. Everyone else decides to strap labels onto it like a horse and ride it into the ground, unmoving and ice cold.
'Goodbye' was the last thing he said to her. He had not meant for it to be; he was furious, face red, hair falling over swollen, gray eyes. Cheeks were streak
The ever-forgotten wasteland
of the decapitated filth.
Forever driven down in its wealth;
taken for granted, they've come to their death.
Drowning in the seas of liars,
of lust,
of the last resort.
When everything's fallen to ashes;
when there's nothing left to smile towards.
The open flesh wound,
bleeding for
forgiveness
in sanctions.
This is what I call home.
No One's Got It All ::Part 1:: by cmoonlitstars, literature
Literature
No One's Got It All ::Part 1::
I'm the Hero
In his arms rested a man with open eyes of jade.
Skin fair, light, and gentle.
In his arms rested a man with a loose grip.
This grip clung to the reddened shirt.
And in his arms rested a man with a bullet through his chest.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The silence echoed as the man trembled, unsure of what to do or say.
His mind was racing, his heart was speeding. The road was darkening; he was losing his way.
His name was Andy.
The one in his arms was Nikolai.
He had just lost his brother to a blazing shot that should have hit him.
And all he could seem to do was whimper, "I'm the hero."
And he would grow louder, his
Shellshock ::Prologue:: by cmoonlitstars, literature
Literature
Shellshock ::Prologue::
"Forever alone."
Isn't that what they said?
They watched his body crumble, yet keep its shape in all possible ways. The hollow chest he held on his body was nothing more than a mere existence. What more could they ask for from a male with Shellshock syndrome, a child nonetheless?
Nothing.
So forever alone he shall stay.
Forever alone in the four walls they kept him in, light rarely shining through the tiny slit of what was presumed to be a window within his holding cell; the walls were a dark, craggy gray that held no light atmosphere to it whatsoever. All that was enclosed was a boy and an electronic pad for communication purposes to th
So... about writing...
There were a lot of complications.
And now I'm doing NaNoWriMo, so I won't be on... as much.
And I should have really updated the next chapter of WH, but it got lost on my old USB, which is now corrupted, so... I'll rewrite that sooner or later.
Last but not least, I enjoy this journal skin.
Goodbye now.
You should click...
Video I've been addicted to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuRXaPBSJfs
Last WH chapter: http://cmoonlitstars.deviantart.com/art/Waffle-House-Chapter-3-246229199
Last written thing (general): http://fav.me/d4eneni
Just felt like doing this... Will be updated whenever the new chapters are up.
SHELLSHOCK
Author(s): ~cmoonlitstars (https://www.deviantart.com/cmoonlitstars)
Prologue: http://fav.me/d46non3
Chapter One: [Not available]
WAFFLE HOUSE
Author(s): :iconcmoonlitstars::iconrubydoobydoo:
Prolouge: Part One: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Prolouge-Waffle-House-202872026?q=gallery%3Arubydoobydoo%2F24374570&qo=12 Part Two: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Prolouge-Waffle-House-part-2-204146996?q=gallery%3Arubydoobydoo%2F24374570&qo=11
Chapter One: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Waffle-House-chapter-1-205199106?q=gallery%3Arubydoobydoo%
Q: Who ARE you?
A: I am Roxy, a writer.
Q: Why are you here?
A: To write!
Q: What do you like?
A: Pie, easily.
Q: Are you really a lurker?
A: Of couse.
Q: What is this main story you are writing?
A: Waffle House is my main story, that I also write with ~RubyDoobyDoo (https://www.deviantart.com/rubydoobydoo).
To find the story, go here::
Prolouge: Part One: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Prolouge-Waffle-House-202872026?q=gallery%3Arubydoobydoo%2F24374570&qo=12 Part Two: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Prolouge-Waffle-House-part-2-204146996?q=gallery%3Arubydoobydoo%2F24374570&qo=11
Chapter One: http://rubydoobydoo.deviantart.com/art/Waffle-House-chapter