Strike Hour: Chapter 2 Chapter 2
He woke to pain.
Qireis curtile, he thought miserably. What a fucking surprise.
He wished he had an alarm clock, like hed seen on the few occasions hed been above ground. He wished he could just roll over, smack the cause of his wakefulness and shut it up, so he could numb himself in sleep again. But no.
He lifted his head, a tremendous effort for his state, wincing at the pain that shot down his spine.
Still alive, a voice said somewhere above him. What a pity.
Fuck you, he managed, in a voice that sounded like gravel being scraped across a cheese grater, if that strong.
There was a laugh. Feisty. He forced his eyes open halfway and saw black combat boots. There was a scuff on the toe of the left boot. Probably from
Strike Hour: Chapter 1 Chapter 1
Eighty-one .eighty-two .eighty-three eighty-four She fell back to the floor, uncrossing her arms from her chest, breathing hard, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as she caught her breath after her second set of crunches. Her skin was slightly glossy with a thin sheen of sweat; the workout itself wasnt particularly intense for her, but the humid heat of the summer night was keeping her from cooling off. Locked up in this damned bedroom, she had nothing else to do. She could get out, if she wanted; shed rigged the lock a long time ago so that she could simply slip a bobby pin through between the door and the jamb and open the door. But shed let the people that passed for her foster parents have their satisfaction for now. They simply didnt have the time or patience to deal with her so they said, in reality, they were only busy wi
WTFWhat the hell is wrong with me?
I never thought you'd go the way of the others
Or rather, that I would treat you as such...
That I'd risk discovery and further torment
Just to hide with you for a while
And then I'd turn and run
I don't know if I'm afraid
Or what it is about me
You gave me a second chance. I fucked it up.
Every night I've cried myself to sleep, not often...
But every time wanting your touch and your protection
And now, faced with that, I fuck it up.
I'd say I wanted you back
But for what? For me to hurt you again?!
And now it's another one of those nights
Wishing I wasn't alone
But guilty now, because I know I'd probably run.
I'm wasting pain and almost tears on something I can fix
And therefore shouldn't lament - but can I really fix it?
I won't let myself cry for this
I've got no one to blame but myself.
And now I'm lost in my old melodramas again
Writing like echoes, without effect
And hating myself, but immune to the pain
And now it's another one of t
THINGEHAn eagle flown from burning nest,
Into a raging unknown storm
In search of calm and clear horizons
To warm her wings beneath seven suns.
A dark horse runs in a pitch-dark night,
Unbridled, fearing naught yet running
Running from shadows within itself
Running from darkness that plagues its noble head
Running from loneliness on a cold winters night
Running for love to finish the fight.
Fire and ice, a clashing of forces
To love to hate, to hate to love
A legend without a name,
A name without a legend
To join or to fight?
To love or to hate?
To fear or to trust?
To think is to die.
Innocence shattered and malevolence unpunished
Spurs the anger of an unsuspected friend
Outward young, inward ageless,
In vigilant sleep until her birth
Waiting for a subtle queen
To defend, her knight, her confidant.
Left to die in corrupting loneliness
With strength to survive, but only just
Hanging on to loves lost hope
Waiting for saving grace to rescue darkness.
A shadow captured is a Phantom t
Unnamed Thing - ProloguePrologue
His body ached like hell. He knew theyd beaten him to subdue him, but how badly? He couldnt feel his wings. He was blindfolded with some ungodly fabric that was itchy and smelled of motor oil.
He thrashed on the cold surface of the table and felt three of them throw their weight on him. Tranquilize him, a voice said from across the room. He uttered a low, guttural snarl and whipped his head around, sinking his fangs into the warm flesh of the arm behind him, tasting blood and biting down harder as the man screamed, trying to wrench him off. He set his teeth in and let his venom seep into the wound. Then there were fingers under his jaw and they unlocked his bite. He spat a bittersweet mix of blood and venom at his unseen enemies, hoping to get it in at least one unprotected eye, but heard no cry of pain and disgust. Damnit. He beat his wings furiously against the table, trying to fl
Random Red Midnight Creepiness Her feet were silent on the stone wall of the castle as she clung to the side of the tower, her eyes set on the window fifty feet above the ground. She hated heights, and she hated climbing without ropes, even though she was good at it. Shed learned quite a few things from Doom though, when it came to clinging to vertical surfaces.
Shed dropped all her gear except for eight throwing knives that she had hidden in her boots, which were currently tied together by the laces and strung over her shoulder so that her feet were bare and better able to grip the tiny ledges of the rocks in the side of the castle. Shed hide the knives elsewhere once she put her boots back on.
Morningstar winced at the combined scream and howl of a Phantom in pain from the apex of the tower, stopping her climb a few feet below the window. She didnt want to know what they were doing to him in there.