stormdancer13

The Wind Mother was beautiful. She was beautiful in so many ways, I knew I could never be anything like her, but whenever I was around her, I felt as if some of her sunshine was rubbing off on me. And she was convinced she was merely the prototype, and I was the real thing. The ultimate embodiment of what someone should be, and around her, I almost believed it. She was like that around everyone, especially Father. She was spontaneous, he was intense. She was creative, he was passionate. Her light somehow complimented and melded with his shadow. She made him sparkle, and he gave her depth. He called her his muse, and it seemed true. She kept

There are some stories that can't be told. There are things we can't say, because we know, even though no one ever came right out and told us, that if we let our stories slip, they would lock us up. Yes, "they", the collective, mystical, magical, all-powerful them. They would tie us up and hold us down, and pour perfectly pristine bleach into our brains, it goes in white and comes out thick and dark, like it washed out all the words, and now we're fresh again. We know this. Deep down we've probably convinced ourselves that we deserve it, actually. That's how far gone we are. We believe we are as crazy as they—the sane ones—want us t

Clouds rolled in slowly to cover the sun. As the sky dimmed his face relaxed, eyes no longer held tight shut against the harsh glare. His eyelids shifted restless. Clearly he was thinking about something other than the summer sun. His hands pillowed his head, insuring that the back of his curly hair would be flat when he sat up. A long piece of dusty red police tape was draped over his shoulder, barely bending the blades of grass it rested on. A warning of a past crime scene or an ironic foreshadowing of his personality was anyone's guess. A small yellow leaf rested on the white t-shirt that draped his absurdly concave stomach. His eyes flutt

The black water rippled menacingly, twisting and writhing over itself far below me. I sat on the stairs at the very edge of the abyss, kicking my feet idly into the empty space. A glimmer of light rose from the depths of the liquid, and began to form a picture. Before I could make out the details, it faded from sight. A moment later, a figure started to take shape, rising from the water slowly, but again, shrank back and faded from sight before it could gain definition. Several more times this happened, while I watched listlessly, my eyes dry. I heard the door open behind and above me, but didn't turn to look as a familiar set of footsteps d

"The ends hardly ever justify the means, have you noticed that?" The young man insisted, pacing back and forth down the center of the narrow, sparsely furnished rooms, a slightly wild gleam in his sunken, dark eyes. His mentor sat back in his faded blue armchair and didn't say anything, knowing that the boy had been faced with some rather horrific things recently, and that he was having the crisis many men before him had faced. "I mean," he continued, "how can they say that they're fighting for the greater good, if at this rate, there won't be anything left to be good, or any people to appreciate it? How can 'the greater good' be achieved by

Well, as I understand it, not that I do, love is knowing that you would take a bullet for someone.  I don't mean romantic love, no one can agree on what that one means, because people are constantly redefining it.  But real love, like the kind that you feel for close friends, and the siblings and cousins you actually like, that's the important one.  That kind of love is knowing you would die or kill for someone, without a second thought.  But more than that, love is knowing you would even live for someone, which you and I both know is much more difficult. It is knowing that you would stand up for them, no matter what they did or who was again

Plus you're hardly screwed up beyond helping.  We're all screwed up.  Meya has panic attack sometimes for no reason.  Amber has this horrible crippling fear of abandonment, which is crazy.  It can reduce her to tears in 2 seconds flat, but you would never know it because in every other area of her life she's incredibly strong.  Sammy has to be loved by everyone because her family is deeply screwed up, her stepfather has never once in his life treated her like one of his own children.  Shane…  Don't even get me started.  Me, I can't be physically near anyone for long, usually, without losing it.  I flinch violently when anyone makes a sud

"I never really got the glass half full or half empty thing. Cuz c'mon, look. If you're being waterboarded, a half empty glass is a really good thing. It's always, always about perspective. Why does everyone keep trying to make it one or the other, black or white, yes or no, right or wrong, half empty or half full? No matter what, they're always going to be hopelessly inaccurate. Doesn't that bother anyone else?" "Sweetie. I don't really think this is the time to be quibbling about glasses." "You can think of a better time to quibble than when confronted by a firing squad?"

"This is a form of entertainment?" I gasped, staring wide-eyed into the canopy as another giant branch the size of a tree back home crashed deafeningly to the ground. "Not only is this entertainment," Kly said, eyes bright and wild, watching the proceedings with every evidence of pleasure, "this is the very best kind. It's pretty much the most fun thing ever. Don't you want to try it?" "No!" I said adamantly, eyes fixed on the trees, convinced if I looked away something terrible would happen."I would die if I did that. No lie. I. Would. Die." "Yes," Kly agreed, "probably. You are hardly trained for this. It is something of a…rite of p

"She's hot. Like, I don't know what she looked like in my head exactly, but this isn't it. He has good taste." "No kidding." "Well, had good taste. Fortunately, she's available now. Dibs." "What the hell?" "You have a boyfriend, dummy." "Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that. So…are you officially bi now?" "It's Friday night. I'm always bi on weekends." "It's not technically–" "Shut up. It counts." "How long do you think it'll take them to notice us talking about them and staring in their direction?" "We're not talking about them. We're talking about her." "I seriously doubt they will really notice the distinction, if we just keep