Post by Ventriloquist on Dec 2, 2010 21:29:20 GMT -5
"The trees are dancing."
That was the only thought that came from the bloody figure that lay in the center of an equally crimson-soaked field. Well, it would be if the entire place was not encased in black.
It was a lovely night - Clear obsinian skies, twinkling stars, and a full and bright moon. The perfect night.
A smile wretched it's way to the broken creatures face. A perfect night. A truly perfect night.
One he would love.
He had enjoyed the night; Taking her off to stare at sky. He had especially loved the moon.
He would look at it, and tell her all of the things he loved about it. It's glow, it's majesty, but more then anything, it's consistency.
She, had smiled and nodded. Listening but not paying attention, she had rested her head on the ground and just stared.
She had never really cared for the moon; The night was not her favorite thing. Her favorite thing was his happy laughter.
So maybe she did love the night, because he loved it. And she loved him.
It was sad, that he wasn't here. That he was not laying beside her anymore, not whispering sweet words about the moon.
So maybe she hated the night, because he loved it.
Looking at the ground beside her, she rethought the previous notion that he wasn't there. He was there, but he could not see. He could not see what he loved the most.
Whether it was her or the moon, she did not know.
Looking up, a laugh shivered out of the smiling and bloody mouth. Violent, trembling laughter. How amazing.
He couldn't see it.
The moon was no longer consistent.
It was a broken moon.
That was the only thought that came from the bloody figure that lay in the center of an equally crimson-soaked field. Well, it would be if the entire place was not encased in black.
It was a lovely night - Clear obsinian skies, twinkling stars, and a full and bright moon. The perfect night.
A smile wretched it's way to the broken creatures face. A perfect night. A truly perfect night.
One he would love.
He had enjoyed the night; Taking her off to stare at sky. He had especially loved the moon.
He would look at it, and tell her all of the things he loved about it. It's glow, it's majesty, but more then anything, it's consistency.
She, had smiled and nodded. Listening but not paying attention, she had rested her head on the ground and just stared.
She had never really cared for the moon; The night was not her favorite thing. Her favorite thing was his happy laughter.
So maybe she did love the night, because he loved it. And she loved him.
It was sad, that he wasn't here. That he was not laying beside her anymore, not whispering sweet words about the moon.
So maybe she hated the night, because he loved it.
Looking at the ground beside her, she rethought the previous notion that he wasn't there. He was there, but he could not see. He could not see what he loved the most.
Whether it was her or the moon, she did not know.
Looking up, a laugh shivered out of the smiling and bloody mouth. Violent, trembling laughter. How amazing.
He couldn't see it.
The moon was no longer consistent.
It was a broken moon.
