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View User's Journal

*Insert cool and funny name here*
A collection of many things: vents, poems, and drawings, among many other things.
Mist, Shadows, and White Dresses.
The mist clung to the soft fabric of her white dress; a white rose blooming down from her waist in ruined tatters, a ghost of what used to be something so intricate and beautiful. The bony hands of Gaia raised up from the earth and clenched at the air all around her; gasping for a breath they would never catch, the white leather like trunks creaking with the sound of an old man's joints. The girl took slow steps, the white dress ruined and ripped and stained, just like her it had become a former shell it's old self; too ruined and heart broken to do much, be much of use to anything. Every step, every movement resulted in a crack from the ground below her as she stepped on the old, withered and dried fingers of the trees that so precariously placed themselves so near that the bony branches scraped and cut at the skin of her arms, which bit at hard as the cold air that swiveled and carried the thing fog, like the breath of the dead-- musty and old-- around her like a spell that couldn't be broken by any mortal means. Opening her dried and cracked lips, so horribly forsaken that they had started to bleed with the force of prying the sticking skin away from themselves, a light voice began to spill and tumble from her mouth as her abandoned vocal cords began to work for maybe the last time. Her ivory eyes, pale from the lack of being able to see anything, but seeming to be able to give that dead man's gaze direction, at one tomb stone, alone a dreary among the shriveled corpses of old and rotten flowers.
The wavering notes from her mouth seemed to stop at once as she came to a rest before the tomb stone, the limestone face worn away from years of not being taken care of. She stood there, as silent as death, her unseeing, blind eyes, staring at the last token of someone living standing on top of a mound of dirt where a body slowly wears away, rotting, crawling with bugs and various other pests.
She again, with all the last remaining strength she could muscle, lowered herself on to the muddy ground by the weed-flowers below her, and laid her head with her listless pale brown hair on the ground. She pried her lips apart again, her voice tumbling out with total abandon.
"I can't do it anymore.. "Her voice was soft and monotonous, void of any type of happiness or joy. ".. There's no point.. being here without you to brighten up this dreary world.. even the plants have died along with you.. they sense that you're not here anymore, just like my soul does." The woman let out a shaky breath, her nails, chewed down so far that they bled, gripped the muddy ground hard. Speaking around the horrible lump of depression in her throat, she muttered, "I told you... I wouldn't be able to last long without you, my love." And with those words, her lifeless, blank and blind blue eyes seemed to close slowly as a tear, a diamond drop, worked it's way down her face, leaving a clean streak. She took in a deep breath, released it, then ceased to exist at all.. her spirit leaving her body behind to the crows.





 
 
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