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The Art of Fish I. To not knowThe Art of Fish by ~Spirit-Princess
It was light when she returned, body aching and soul wet with the bloodiness of man, and Adrianna was already gone (probably already working, dedicated girl that she was.)
Breakfast was a paltry affair, but she was starving after an early dinner the night before, and so she almost devoured the stale bread and the almost-mouldy fromage that was left from yesterday morning. The flow of customers was unusually diminué, and so she was left free to exit the building, to leave and wander the streets as she pleased (with a stern warning to return by noon, or not at all.)
Most times, propelled
Lapsed Oh Mary,Lapsed by *TheLunaLily
with your lips pressed tight,
a thin red line
on your face of white.
It is clear
that you have nothing to say to me.
And your arms are down at your sides,
with your hands spread out wide,
in a gesture
to tell me
I am on my own tonight.
Ave Maria,
I counted beads for you.
Do you hear me crying?
The dark is overwhelming.
Ever-silent Mary,
put me to sleep or kill me.
I sang Aves for you.
I raised my voice in hallelujahs
for you.
Mary,
they say
you take pity
on people like me.
So I clutch beads and sing Ave's,
but you never sing for me
in the dark when I need you.
Are these just beads after all?
Cheap and wo
Thick As Thieves - Pt. 1 "You said you're a... what?"Thick As Thieves - Pt. 1 by *WriterOfStuff
"Philanthropist. The founder of a small society dedicated to preserving vampire culture. I was hoping for a few moments of your time, Lord Tobias."
He slipped a hand into the pocket of his black, wool blazer and produced a business card. The vampire seated at the desk - the aforementioned Most Honorable Tobias, Marquis of the French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana - accepted the small, rectangular piece of card stock and studied it. "Jackson Phillips," he said, reading the raised lettering on the front. His eyes shifted up to Jackson. "The Banks Foundation of the Vampire Arts?"
"Yes, Helen Banks." Jackson sat a
The Agreement -Part 1- Surveying the brightly lit stage from the balcony of the school auditorium, Sierra fought a creeping sense of nausea. She hated this part of rehearsal. This was the fourth day in row she'd been forced to watch the guy of her dreams practice a kissing scene with the girl of her nightmares. She wanted nothing more than to put the image out of her mind and run until her legs gave out. But there were two problems with that: One being that she had no claim to Justin Young – in truth, he barely knew she existed. The other problem being, it was her job to run the spotlight. And so she remained at her post, anThe Agreement -Part 1- by ~Hedge-of-Thorns
Njosnavelin All words have fled your mind, yet thoughts tear it asunder.Njosnavelin by ~Filiuk
The white sheet in front of you is like a gaze, bright with blame.
You want to write, but the pen refuses its paper.
You search for the syllables that abducted your letters,
But get lost in the void.
You try to push your senses, but all you see
Is the texture of frigid pages,
Fleeing the impotent ink above them.
And it's not the deepness,
The agony or fragility that hinders you:
It's you. You are empty, mute without a muse.
No seraph will come to your aid.
You have only mediocre things to say
And mediocre audiences to please.
You are no gifted writer,
No ch
Love Me, Not A Label Love me for all my labels except one,Love Me, Not A Label by *lackofevolution
Appreciated and hold tightly the deflecting lung,
Look at me from a different side,
Cross my boundaries with nothing to hide,
Speak to me with a meaning behind each word,
Ignoring the link, members of the same herd,
Smell the sent, please don't forget,
The blurred meaning of the word; protect,
Ignore me, the approaching season,
Just don't always use the same reason,
Hold me, forget the gap between my birth and your tomb,
You can push me away, just not when another enters my room,
Support me, provide more information then text,
Help me draw a line between abuse and sex,
Forget me, leave centr
Caroline A little while later Dusty Rhodes found himself outside Grey's bar and diner. He took a moment to finish his cigarette and collect his thoughts before gently pushing the door open.Caroline by ~monstroooo
"Where the bloody hell have you been?!"
It wasn't unusual for Dusty to be shouted at when he entered a room – but he was nevertheless taken aback by the sheer volume of the shriek.
"Caroline, Kitten," he began, closing the door slowly but thinking quickly. "Ah, have you been waiting long?" It had been a long day.
"8'o'clock. Isn't that what you said? 8'o'bloody clock! I've been sat here for over an hour!"
She had risen to her feet from the far side of the
Noir It was a dark and stormy Night-Mare that galloped down the forbidden paths of the faithless slaves of the Dreaded Sire. On its back, young Werther was in a frantic agitation, barely hanging on in the Hellish Horse's saddle as it jumped over the occasional fleeing spirit escaped from the Sire's service. The pale glow of the ethereal slaves darting between dark and twisted trees didn't distract him from his dire quest. Barbarossa had taken yet another wife, who would undoubtedly end up in the Broken Tower. That wife was Werther's beloved Little Christie.Noir by =TheOtherSarshi
One of the ghoulish, triffid-like Huorn-trees nearly grabbed Werther's plumed
Sta.sh
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