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Literature Text
i.
She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world. All she wants is to carry on dreaming, so she wishes for dragonfly wings and bottled summer nights – and sleep that doesn't have to end. That insidious smile lingers, and she won't surrender her dreams even when her life support stumbles and dies.
ii.
He's a romantic with an acoustic soul and steel string scars on his fingertips. He's saving his lovesongs for a perfect girl with summer rolling off her skin and winter in her eyes, and he's never stopped believing that she's out there somewhere. He wishes for her to be everything he's waited for, for her to find him, and for her to be happy. It's a pity he forgets to ask for her to love him back.
iii.
She's a revolutionary with a landmine heart and a switchblade tongue. There's dirt and sand under her fingernails and wind in her hair, and she wouldn't have it any other way. If she stopped to think, maybe she wouldn't wish for change, for strength, for a voice that people will listen to. She's spent all her life fighting, and now she's a soldier without a war. She's drifting, weightless and helpless, in an endless desert in search of a standard to bear, but there's going come a time when she can't face another aimless day.
iv.
He's a runaway with frostbitten fingers and fathomless whirlpool eyes that nobody can look away from. And maybe he is all alone without a penny to his name, but he's got no obligations to anybody, no millstone around his neck and he thinks that's all that matters. That's why all he asks is enough cash to get him through the week, clothes that'll keep the cold out, and a lifetime supply of freedom. It's uncomplicated and whole-hearted and real, and it's a shame it isn't going to stop him dying alone.
v.
She's an idol with a malicious, megawatt smile and neon-edged curves. There's a blaze of glitter blinding her eyes and an electric memory of vodka on her lips, and they worship her. She accepts it with glacial, regal grace, because she's all belladonna beauty and cyanide charm when she wants to be and, damnit, she deserves their adoration. Greed glistens on her skin as she demands eternal youth, beauty that won't fade, the power to make people believe anything. She doesn't realise it's going fix her for all eternity as a silly sixteen-year-old girl who no one's ever going to want for more than a night.
vi.
He's a cynic with a clockwork mind and a motherboard for a heart. He's got this faultlessly clinical logic that brings stars crashing out of the sky and tears castles down, because if you can't explain it, it isn't real, isn't true. You'd call him an unbeliever, and he wouldn't give a damn – that's just who he is. He wishes for three more wishes, and it doesn't change a thing. He still doesn't know what to wish for, doesn't know what he really wants, and soon, he's going to meet a girl who could change everything. But she'll be the ghost of a dreamer, laughing in the half-light – and he isn't going to believe in her.
{It's there, you know. The fourth wish. Are you going to take it?}
She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world. All she wants is to carry on dreaming, so she wishes for dragonfly wings and bottled summer nights – and sleep that doesn't have to end. That insidious smile lingers, and she won't surrender her dreams even when her life support stumbles and dies.
ii.
He's a romantic with an acoustic soul and steel string scars on his fingertips. He's saving his lovesongs for a perfect girl with summer rolling off her skin and winter in her eyes, and he's never stopped believing that she's out there somewhere. He wishes for her to be everything he's waited for, for her to find him, and for her to be happy. It's a pity he forgets to ask for her to love him back.
iii.
She's a revolutionary with a landmine heart and a switchblade tongue. There's dirt and sand under her fingernails and wind in her hair, and she wouldn't have it any other way. If she stopped to think, maybe she wouldn't wish for change, for strength, for a voice that people will listen to. She's spent all her life fighting, and now she's a soldier without a war. She's drifting, weightless and helpless, in an endless desert in search of a standard to bear, but there's going come a time when she can't face another aimless day.
iv.
He's a runaway with frostbitten fingers and fathomless whirlpool eyes that nobody can look away from. And maybe he is all alone without a penny to his name, but he's got no obligations to anybody, no millstone around his neck and he thinks that's all that matters. That's why all he asks is enough cash to get him through the week, clothes that'll keep the cold out, and a lifetime supply of freedom. It's uncomplicated and whole-hearted and real, and it's a shame it isn't going to stop him dying alone.
v.
She's an idol with a malicious, megawatt smile and neon-edged curves. There's a blaze of glitter blinding her eyes and an electric memory of vodka on her lips, and they worship her. She accepts it with glacial, regal grace, because she's all belladonna beauty and cyanide charm when she wants to be and, damnit, she deserves their adoration. Greed glistens on her skin as she demands eternal youth, beauty that won't fade, the power to make people believe anything. She doesn't realise it's going fix her for all eternity as a silly sixteen-year-old girl who no one's ever going to want for more than a night.
vi.
He's a cynic with a clockwork mind and a motherboard for a heart. He's got this faultlessly clinical logic that brings stars crashing out of the sky and tears castles down, because if you can't explain it, it isn't real, isn't true. You'd call him an unbeliever, and he wouldn't give a damn – that's just who he is. He wishes for three more wishes, and it doesn't change a thing. He still doesn't know what to wish for, doesn't know what he really wants, and soon, he's going to meet a girl who could change everything. But she'll be the ghost of a dreamer, laughing in the half-light – and he isn't going to believe in her.
{It's there, you know. The fourth wish. Are you going to take it?}
Literature
Sight Less
Beneath all the beds in New York you'll find the musicians' dungeon. People constructed of more soul than they can hold sell bits of themselves for quarters and dimes. These claim no home other than the section of ground they occupy. Few passerbys take notice, as is the way with common rushers. Handfuls of tourists with pity in their very bones offer mercy in the form of one dollar bills. It's not a job one can hope to live off of. It's just barely enough to keep one from dying.
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Helena stepped out of the subway car, tapping her fingers on her skirt. Sh
Literature
i dont understand
have you ever woken up and not thought anything at all?
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somtimes i find myself thinking that 'it'd be fun to go and stand out in the rain' so i do. but once i'm out there i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be invigorating to take off my clothes' so i do. but once i've done that, i find myself thinking 'wouldn't it be beautiful to climb on the rooftop', so i do. and then once i'm standing there, i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be magical to fall in love' and so i try. i try and try and try but i can't. and so there i am, standing naked on my rooftop in the rain trying to fall in love.
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sometimes i find myself imagining that all w
Literature
the best hugger in the world
if you wanted to know how it felt, I'd tell you to lie on your side and wait until the teardrop crosses over the bridge of your nose. wait until that tear hits the pillow and listen for the sound. you have to be in a quiet room because you have to be able to hear that sound to understand. the point is, it's a quiet sadness- one you don't really speak of until it gets louder and begins to cut into you. and even as you write the words, at this point, you're pressing the pen harder into the paper because, well, it's like a whole different person is crawling into the depths of your body, talking to you about death. you just have to sit there and
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Because you do know that you always have that fourth wish, right? The one that cancels out the last three completely. Would you take it?
Are the characters interesting enough to keep you reading?
Any thoughts on the imagery?
Your favourite one of the five?
Thanks for reading
Prologues: [link]
Chapter 1: [link]
Are the characters interesting enough to keep you reading? Any thoughts on the imagery? Your favourite one of the five?Thanks for reading
Prologues: [link]
Chapter 1: [link]
© 2010 - 2024 toxic-scheherazade
Comments94
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What is this I don't even
Not even kidding, I am in awe. The way you've captured the essence of the incredible short-sightedness of each of these people ... how each of them can't see that what they think their heart desires will destroy them in the end ... so poignant, so enthralling. They're all so beautiful, each of them is making a grab at happiness but they don't really know how to find it. I can't help but pity them.
Of thefive six, ... well, I'm drawn to the men more than the women. Possibly because they wish for the things I might have wished for, in my younger days. I think I would go for the sixth, though, because ... I've known so many who were just like that. I used to be just like that. And it's empty and it's hollow and you get that and there it is.
Sorry for the late reply; I've been sitting on this until I had a moment to give it the attention it warrants.
Not even kidding, I am in awe. The way you've captured the essence of the incredible short-sightedness of each of these people ... how each of them can't see that what they think their heart desires will destroy them in the end ... so poignant, so enthralling. They're all so beautiful, each of them is making a grab at happiness but they don't really know how to find it. I can't help but pity them.
Of the
Sorry for the late reply; I've been sitting on this until I had a moment to give it the attention it warrants.