Become a someone, which metaphor do you inspire?, they whispered. Till dawn breaks the dust subtle would the unknown be made remnant. Like curry tides from the wind, the sea had a mask which knew Heather's tore. Was it torment or the vivid line that separated right from wrong but a sea dust was just the minute obstacle portraying her desolation. Peace had not found its name and the sentiments of the unknown made a statement the Heathens were willing to die for. Was it war that gave her her own name, but to recite their names was lethal to the atonement once meant to purge her thoughts. To cure the winds of this firmament one had to long the wisdom of the Leasons and that was far from her grievances. Asking the impossible Judith was left stranded in an endless thought of nothingness.
How should she move, how should she live. Kicked out of the barricade, she lost her path with the woods. Was dark and hallow, the skies made her known. The sounds of the night crawled but leaped it's figures. The tone of her dying thoughts gave the songs of the night. With no one to hold on death may be her fortay but there appeared out of the green lights a man who had no name, he was pious in his look with a keen eye for regret. Optimal demise was the least of his decent look, a smile which spoke terror made his mild stare different. His ears poked two inches above his head, his eyes knew the graces of her songs. The tides which knew dark was red had made peace with her gaze. What was this spark that lit hope in her heart? Was rare, was pain, but the warmth of his voice forgave every dying wish of this lost adrift soul. This gentle heather held her hand and gently closed her eyes, there was a disturbing sound the crows far detected. Was death in his finest hour of the night and he came to collect. The Heather quickly broke his gaze and lifted her from her almost deserted grave, knowing the path of the Leasons he started his journey to the cabin of the Heathers. The grey cave had a barrier which closed at noon, his conscience was now tested. Fight of the sounds of the dust or leave the body to make it's grave.
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Resonance
Teen FictionThe hurdles were meant for the stars. Elipsa's grip held no bound on her. She was a corporate woman serving grats in the underworld. Her passive stare was light to the heathens. She was the best friend of Judith Sabalth. Glance was her power, that i...
