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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 12, 2013
From the suggester: "Utilizing chilling visuals, the author draws us in as we share the title character's pain in this tragic tale, in Corpse Bride - Snowflake by ~MasterPassionCreed."
Featured by JZLobo
Suggested by SingingFlames
Literature Text
She remembers too well.
Whatever that darkness was, it's gone now, and it hurts. What she sees on the other end of the forest, beyond the veil of fog in her eyes, is pure sunrise; glistening ice welcomes it gladly, from the spots where the snow is still untouched.
When the sun is up, its beams feel like daggers in her already aching soul. This light proves it — how death is not the blissful oblivion she used to dream of in her youth, but a nightmare you can't ever wake up from.
There can't be liberating tears to seal it shut; there will be no rays of morning to cut through the curtains, no warm embraces to reassure her that it's over, that reality is much brighter and full of love.
This landscape is too cold to be reborn; no living hand is there to hold her icy fingers now. She already hears them, muffled and distant — the desperate wails of her mother, the dead silence of her father, when they walk through the dry branches and find her body.
If they ever will.
She swallows a mouthful of pain, the only burning thing in this wintry dawn. She focuses and tries to dissolve — but the cold earth clings her to its chest, possessive, hefty, swarming with a world of sleeping life.
Her whole soul begs to cry. Her tears are diamonds, too frozen to be shed.
I… I am not ready yet.
Her wings won't unfold. A shroud of loving snow falls from the sky instead, protecting her fragile bones.
She has to stop fighting. Life has left her forever - there is no point in struggling for nothing. Her lips merely quiver, but her prayer is much stronger than the breath she has lost.
I can't let go… of my dream-
She is like a snowflake in a colder ground — still intact, but bound to melt soon, if not right now.
She sets to rest; but up there, before her eyelids fall, she catches a glimpse of a trembling nature, watching over her with swollen eyes. It couldn't save its daughter — now it leads her to sleep, and she is grateful.
I won't go… until-
A new shade of darkness claims her back.
Whatever that darkness was, it's gone now, and it hurts. What she sees on the other end of the forest, beyond the veil of fog in her eyes, is pure sunrise; glistening ice welcomes it gladly, from the spots where the snow is still untouched.
When the sun is up, its beams feel like daggers in her already aching soul. This light proves it — how death is not the blissful oblivion she used to dream of in her youth, but a nightmare you can't ever wake up from.
There can't be liberating tears to seal it shut; there will be no rays of morning to cut through the curtains, no warm embraces to reassure her that it's over, that reality is much brighter and full of love.
This landscape is too cold to be reborn; no living hand is there to hold her icy fingers now. She already hears them, muffled and distant — the desperate wails of her mother, the dead silence of her father, when they walk through the dry branches and find her body.
If they ever will.
She swallows a mouthful of pain, the only burning thing in this wintry dawn. She focuses and tries to dissolve — but the cold earth clings her to its chest, possessive, hefty, swarming with a world of sleeping life.
Her whole soul begs to cry. Her tears are diamonds, too frozen to be shed.
I… I am not ready yet.
Her wings won't unfold. A shroud of loving snow falls from the sky instead, protecting her fragile bones.
She has to stop fighting. Life has left her forever - there is no point in struggling for nothing. Her lips merely quiver, but her prayer is much stronger than the breath she has lost.
I can't let go… of my dream-
She is like a snowflake in a colder ground — still intact, but bound to melt soon, if not right now.
She sets to rest; but up there, before her eyelids fall, she catches a glimpse of a trembling nature, watching over her with swollen eyes. It couldn't save its daughter — now it leads her to sleep, and she is grateful.
I won't go… until-
A new shade of darkness claims her back.
Literature
The Ghost of Emily White
The cemetery never changed, or at least not very much. The trees and hedges were trimmed every few years, and when Scott was six, they started turning off the water butts in the winter because the pipes froze, and so did the streams that the local boys used to make by overfilling the water butt at the top of the part that sloped. The weather changed, of course, and the plants and the animals with it. Sometimes a new grave was added. When Scott was ten, his grandmother was buried there.
Sometimes he popped in to see her on the way home from school, just as he always used to. He missed being able to see and hear her, but it wasn’t s
Literature
moon
he reads to her, tells her what it was like to be a sailor of the seas on the moon. "don't stop talking," she tells him, dozing off, imagining the seas of zephyr.
spyglass on the moon a million miles away, the ether shatters by a little girl on her toes, standing on her mattress, clinging to her window above. stain glass eyes in the wake of moon and she breathes as the sea slamming onto the pane, receding and reaching; clouding and clearing. her breaths reach the moon and the moon reaches back with her hands pressed to the girl's eyes.
"one day," she tells the moon, the boy still at her bedside, "you and i will be together."
Literature
A Reason to Live
If only she had the guts to actually do it, to just leap among the cold waves and sink in death among the fish. She breathed in the smell and taste of saltwater, and water sprays hit her face, neck, and chest. She shivered slightly in the breeze from the waves, but she wasn’t really bothered by the chill. What weighed on her mind was something much deeper than the weather.
A pang of apprehension penetrated her heart as she envisioned her body being plunged into the water and weighted down by the strong waves. She thought about what it would be like to gulp in mouthful after mouthful of water, choking and never feeling any relief, b
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This drabble truly comes from the heart.
Have you ever experienced a grave loss, that of one of the people you held dearest? I did, one year ago; and while the emotion fades in time, there are moments in your life when you feel that irreparable pain again. Your heart is lacerated and your soul torn apart, because death truly is eternal -- there is no turning back, there is no remedy and no solution. Tonight I felt it all again... and I took advantage of it.
Have you ever experienced a grave loss, that of one of the people you held dearest? I did, one year ago; and while the emotion fades in time, there are moments in your life when you feel that irreparable pain again. Your heart is lacerated and your soul torn apart, because death truly is eternal -- there is no turning back, there is no remedy and no solution. Tonight I felt it all again... and I took advantage of it.
© 2012 - 2024 altairattorney
Comments67
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This would make a beautiful story if you ever wrote something to continue this. <3 I'd love to read it if you do, this was beautiful.