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Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 5Part 5
I have a feeling the atmosphere won't improve much, and... well... I just don't feel like being around anyone anymore...
Another bite of food. The awkward silence the conversation had created remained, and no one seemed willing to bring up another subject. Nathan continued to eat. He knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least finish his lunch, but the longer he lingered, the worse he felt. Micah was mad. At him. And rightfully so, he thought to himself. If it weren't for Nathan, weren't for his test, Alton would be fine right now.
At last finishing his sandwich, Nathan walked over to Gabriel -- who had returned to the kitchen to set down the tray -- and handed him his empty plate. "I think I'm going to head back to the apartment," he told him quietly, staring at his shoulder to avoid meeting his gaze. "I'm not feeling well."
Gabriel frowned and touched his shoulder with concern, his brows knotting when the writer shrugged him off. "Are you sure? I was just ab
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 4Part 4
They don't need to know how guilty I feel, and I don't need to risk lying in front of Alton. But... I do wonder...
Nathan stared, remaining quiet for a while more before he answered the angel's question with one of his own. "Why?" He looked at his wings again. "I mean, I know the Sins want something from you, but..." He shook his head, lifting his eyes to meet Alton's gaze. "Why?"
Alton sighed, his wings fading in another wisp of smoke as he turned to face them all. "An attempt at coercion, I assume," he explained, unhooking his glasses from his shirt and returning them to his face. "It is the one way to really hurt me. As both history and mythology have shown, I've been through quite a lot of torturous situations. Being immortal has its advantage in that I can survive most anything, including any tormentors I might have. When it comes to the seven sisters, I've been dealing with them for over fourteen hundred years. This isn't the first time they've tried to rise
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 3Part 3
No matter what I say, someone won't like it. Better to side with the majority.
The writer bit on his lip, wondering if it wouldn't be wise to remain standing so close to him. "I don't; I can't," he said, making sure to look at Alton when he did, so he could see that he was just as concerned as the others. "I haven't seen them since that day either, and Gabriel said he couldn't heal them. How can I say that they're healed, Alton, when I don't believe you either?"
Alton's smile faded again, and for a brief instant, his eyes shone red. But the moment of anger quickly dissipated into a sigh, and he turned away from all of them, wrapping his arms around himself and facing the wall. "I don't want to show them," he said with a glance over his shoulder. "When there's nothing that can be done to make them heal any faster, why bother?"
"Because we're worried about you, that's why." Enya uncrossed her arms and set her elbows on her knees, leaning against her hands. "What's th
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 2Part 2
I need to wait on a response from my folks. Push come to shove, maybe one of them can pick me up if I can't arrange a ride there...
After mulling over his options, Nathan groaned and rubbed his head. He checked his watch: a little after noon, and he hadn't eaten anything since he'd gotten home. Between hunger and anxiousness, it was no wonder he had a headache. It wasn't going to do him any good to linger on Thanksgiving. He'd wait on making plans and send an email later. Right now, it was time for food and medication.
As he stood to get something for his throbbing skull, his phone rang again. Reflexively, Nathan answered. "Hello?"
"Hey Nathan! You busy?"
Marni... no, Enya. Her voice made a knot twist in his stomach, and he couldn't decide if he was happy to hear from her or even more anxious than before. "No, contemplating food-like things."
Enya laughed. "Want to go to lunch with us?"
His headache doubled and his heart raced, but her offer brought a hopeful smile
Edge of Thorns 3 - Pt 1Part 1
Susan has violet eyes... one of the Sins has violet eyes... oh God, what if she's trying to trick me again...?
How long he had been in the hospital no longer mattered to Nathan as he kept his eyes locked with Susan's. He could feel his blood running cold again, as if he was still stuck in that freezer, and as far as he was concerned, he may as well be. His heart raced, but he tried to hide his rising panic, especially when Susan looked at him in confusion, those violet eyes staring back at him inquisitively.
"Nathan?" she asked, searching his face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost..."
"I'm fine," he croaked, knowing he'd said it too quickly when Susan's brows knotted.
"You don't seem fine. Is it something I said?"
"No, nothing you said." Dread filled Nathan. Was it legitimate fear or mere paranoia? He couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty made it worse. "Why were you waiting for me to wake up again?"
Susan opened her mouth, perhaps to rep
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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