A soft click sounded as the device came to life, the first indication it was recording. A moment of silence made that click seem deceptive. Then there came a stirring of heavy breath. It was clear from the sound, whoever drew that breath struggled to do so. Whether fatigued or wounded, it was hard to tell. The first breath was expelled and a second drawn as laboriously as the first.
“Sesha...” the single word was barely more than a whisper, but enough to prove both the voice, and the recording, belonged to Domerin. Another sound followed the name, half-gasp, half-growl. It was immediately followed by a curse.
Anyone who listened
It was cold. The air carried a sinister chill. The floor was so frozen, she felt it through the soles of her sandals. The light in the room seemed impossibly dim. She could make out the vague silhouettes of figures. She recognized every one of them. With terrible clarity, she recalled the role each had played in her nightmare. There was the blonde haired Eagle, now sporting a pair of ugly bat wings, and his cold associate surrounded in a shimmering bubble apparently made of steel. There was the prim Amida in his well pressed suit, sporting briefcase and cell phone as though they were sword and shield. Worst of all was the man who spoke in the
In the General's Office by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
In the General's Office
It was dark in the room where they asked him to wait. Heavy blinds drawn across the room's sole window offered only small slats of light for illumination, casting long, barred shadows across the room. A wide, oak desk rested in front of the window, piled high with books, papers and file folders. He wasn't brave enough to approach the mass of organized chaos. Of the three uncomfortable chairs lining the opposite wall, he'd chosen the one furthest from the desk.
He sat with his head bowed, though out of respect or shame was hard to say. He hoped the bar of shadow which fell across his face would obscure his somber expression. Unruly black hair
Like Soil Yearns for Rain by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Like Soil Yearns for Rain
On the table beside his bed, the alarm clock blazed the bright bold numbers 3:12. He grew weary of the sight of his ceiling, too low overhead. The bed beneath him was only marginally comfortable. His limbs were stiff and his mind restless. He longed for something.
Something...
The pages smelled musty, aged somehow. They felt thicker than he remembered. Stiffer. Older.
But the ink on the pages was still as vivid as the day his hasty scrawl laid it down. The words still bore homage to all the things he once held as sacred truths. It all seems so high school drama now...
The pen felt alien in his hand, the wait unusually heavy for something so s
Falling for the First Time by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Falling for the First Time
The illumination of her laptop screen left a soft blue wash against her milky-white skin as she peered around the screen's edge. Her fingers still slid over the keyboard, creating the light clickity-clack that always accompanied her productivity, but she wasn't paying attention to the words appearing on the screen. She would likely have to erase several lines of the report when she returned her attention to it, but it was worth the small setback to catch a glimpse of the man sitting behind the desk on the other side of the room. If the sound of her typing came to a halt, he would glance up from his perusal of the day's important documents and
Lilianna never truly felt alive until she stepped outside her body. There was no physical motion involved. The act was completely electrochemical. Her thoughts were transmitted through wires that connected to nerve endings in her brain by an electrical current, which converted them to a series of binary zeros and ones that could be interpreted by any network machine more sophisticated than a dumb terminal. In this way, she traveled the information super highway and communicated with computers. She spoke their language. But it felt, to her, as though her consciousness left her body.
The world outside her body was more amazing than the mundane
Rain Keeps Falling by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Rain Keeps Falling
Behind the high school, secluded from any major roads, there was a football field surrounded by a wide running track. In the far corner the bleachers were surrounded by a fence, which was surrounded by a large, unruly bush. Anyone who didn't mind a few scratches from stray bush branches could slide between fence and bleachers. Their reward was a secluded hiding place. It was the favored spot of juniors and seniors sneaking cigarettes between classes and practices. The friends Domerin Lorcasf made after graduation would have found it ironic that he retreated to this secluded haven for reasons other than smoking. In the clear, cool autumn air,
How It Really Happened by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
How It Really Happened
Darkness pressed close, thick and heavy, like a cloak, like a blanket. Like a lover's embrace. Calm, steady, unbroken. A constant companion, familiar and, at the same time, strange. Where were the other signs of life; the shuffling of feet, the buzz of barely contained electricity? There was nothing to mark the passage of time, save only the steady beating of his heart.
One. Ba dum. Two. Ba dum.
A breath. He drew air deep into his lungs, letting it fill his chest. He exhaled slowly, silently.
This was what it meant to be alone.
He shifted his legs, lifting first one, then the other, before settling back down. Muscles, stiff from disus
52 Week Challenge: Inversion by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
52 Week Challenge: Inversion
Domerin:
Always running from memories with whiskey.
Whiskey with memories from running always.
Rose:
"Abanon this desire, obligation expels bliss."
"Bliss expels obligation, desire this abandon."
Cazella:
Truly? I am desire without obscurity.
Obscurity without desire am I? Truly.
Silkfoot:
Naturally, does he value great exploits?
Exploits great value he does, naturally.
A soft click sounded as the device came to life, the first indication it was recording. A moment of silence made that click seem deceptive. Then there came a stirring of heavy breath. It was clear from the sound, whoever drew that breath struggled to do so. Whether fatigued or wounded, it was hard to tell. The first breath was expelled and a second drawn as laboriously as the first.
“Sesha...” the single word was barely more than a whisper, but enough to prove both the voice, and the recording, belonged to Domerin. Another sound followed the name, half-gasp, half-growl. It was immediately followed by a curse.
Anyone who listened
It was cold. The air carried a sinister chill. The floor was so frozen, she felt it through the soles of her sandals. The light in the room seemed impossibly dim. She could make out the vague silhouettes of figures. She recognized every one of them. With terrible clarity, she recalled the role each had played in her nightmare. There was the blonde haired Eagle, now sporting a pair of ugly bat wings, and his cold associate surrounded in a shimmering bubble apparently made of steel. There was the prim Amida in his well pressed suit, sporting briefcase and cell phone as though they were sword and shield. Worst of all was the man who spoke in the
In the General's Office by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
In the General's Office
It was dark in the room where they asked him to wait. Heavy blinds drawn across the room's sole window offered only small slats of light for illumination, casting long, barred shadows across the room. A wide, oak desk rested in front of the window, piled high with books, papers and file folders. He wasn't brave enough to approach the mass of organized chaos. Of the three uncomfortable chairs lining the opposite wall, he'd chosen the one furthest from the desk.
He sat with his head bowed, though out of respect or shame was hard to say. He hoped the bar of shadow which fell across his face would obscure his somber expression. Unruly black hair
Like Soil Yearns for Rain by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Like Soil Yearns for Rain
On the table beside his bed, the alarm clock blazed the bright bold numbers 3:12. He grew weary of the sight of his ceiling, too low overhead. The bed beneath him was only marginally comfortable. His limbs were stiff and his mind restless. He longed for something.
Something...
The pages smelled musty, aged somehow. They felt thicker than he remembered. Stiffer. Older.
But the ink on the pages was still as vivid as the day his hasty scrawl laid it down. The words still bore homage to all the things he once held as sacred truths. It all seems so high school drama now...
The pen felt alien in his hand, the wait unusually heavy for something so s
Falling for the First Time by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Falling for the First Time
The illumination of her laptop screen left a soft blue wash against her milky-white skin as she peered around the screen's edge. Her fingers still slid over the keyboard, creating the light clickity-clack that always accompanied her productivity, but she wasn't paying attention to the words appearing on the screen. She would likely have to erase several lines of the report when she returned her attention to it, but it was worth the small setback to catch a glimpse of the man sitting behind the desk on the other side of the room. If the sound of her typing came to a halt, he would glance up from his perusal of the day's important documents and
Lilianna never truly felt alive until she stepped outside her body. There was no physical motion involved. The act was completely electrochemical. Her thoughts were transmitted through wires that connected to nerve endings in her brain by an electrical current, which converted them to a series of binary zeros and ones that could be interpreted by any network machine more sophisticated than a dumb terminal. In this way, she traveled the information super highway and communicated with computers. She spoke their language. But it felt, to her, as though her consciousness left her body.
The world outside her body was more amazing than the mundane
Rain Keeps Falling by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
Rain Keeps Falling
Behind the high school, secluded from any major roads, there was a football field surrounded by a wide running track. In the far corner the bleachers were surrounded by a fence, which was surrounded by a large, unruly bush. Anyone who didn't mind a few scratches from stray bush branches could slide between fence and bleachers. Their reward was a secluded hiding place. It was the favored spot of juniors and seniors sneaking cigarettes between classes and practices. The friends Domerin Lorcasf made after graduation would have found it ironic that he retreated to this secluded haven for reasons other than smoking. In the clear, cool autumn air,
How It Really Happened by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
How It Really Happened
Darkness pressed close, thick and heavy, like a cloak, like a blanket. Like a lover's embrace. Calm, steady, unbroken. A constant companion, familiar and, at the same time, strange. Where were the other signs of life; the shuffling of feet, the buzz of barely contained electricity? There was nothing to mark the passage of time, save only the steady beating of his heart.
One. Ba dum. Two. Ba dum.
A breath. He drew air deep into his lungs, letting it fill his chest. He exhaled slowly, silently.
This was what it meant to be alone.
He shifted his legs, lifting first one, then the other, before settling back down. Muscles, stiff from disus
52 Week Challenge: Inversion by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
52 Week Challenge: Inversion
Domerin:
Always running from memories with whiskey.
Whiskey with memories from running always.
Rose:
"Abanon this desire, obligation expels bliss."
"Bliss expels obligation, desire this abandon."
Cazella:
Truly? I am desire without obscurity.
Obscurity without desire am I? Truly.
Silkfoot:
Naturally, does he value great exploits?
Exploits great value he does, naturally.
How It Really Happened by rosesamanthahope, literature
Literature
How It Really Happened
Darkness pressed close, thick and heavy, like a cloak, like a blanket. Like a lover's embrace. Calm, steady, unbroken. A constant companion, familiar and, at the same time, strange. Where were the other signs of life; the shuffling of feet, the buzz of barely contained electricity? There was nothing to mark the passage of time, save only the steady beating of his heart.
One. Ba dum. Two. Ba dum.
A breath. He drew air deep into his lungs, letting it fill his chest. He exhaled slowly, silently.
This was what it meant to be alone.
He shifted his legs, lifting first one, then the other, before settling back down. Muscles, stiff from disus
Thank you for the favorites, it really means ever so much to me that you enjoy my artwork! I invite you to add me to your watch so that you can see all the future beaded and stitched pieces I have planned! Just think of the sparkles...