Tristan-Chapter 3Chapter 3Tristan had always seen the irony in his job. Dealing with Demons day in and day out, it was clear to him that Hell really did exist. But in all the years and all the collective memories of those who had served the Department of Human and Demon Relations since the Great Wars, there had never been any Angel interactions…no sightings…no whispers of miracles…no warm, guiding light. Tristan’s coworkers were certain that Heaven and an all-mighty creator must exist, but the more Tristan dealt with the Demons, the less he believed in a God at all.He and Eden had sifted through the debris of two of the apartment buildings before dusk, but they had made little progress. It didn’t help that the September sky refused to relent in its attempt to wash away all memory of Iskariot in a steady gray downpour. Captain Michaelson’s list of contact had proven essentially useless to the agents. The Demons refused to know anything when they could actually be
Tristan-Chapter 2Chapter 2The street teemed with emergency personnel and intrigued bystanders, everyone staring transfixed at the blue flames that had engulfed the entire apartment building. As Tristan emerged, panting, from the doomed building with Persephone unconscious in his arms, a fireman was able to pull his eyes away from the bone-chilling blaze just long enough to address them.“H-hey! Do…do you need…help?” The fireman made a jerky attempt to approach them, but almost immediately went back to staring instead.Tristan grimaced, pitying him. The fireman was the one who really needed help here.Tristan made his way across the street as the ground began to shudder. The apartment building would collapse any minute now, and all these people were too mystified by the Hellfire to notice the danger.“Where is the DHDR?” he hissed.“You rang?”Tristan yelped and spun, nearly dropping Persephone in his surprise. “Thought it was your night off, Eden
Tristan-Chapter 1Chapter 1Something about the way she looked at him made him uneasy. Something in those wide, innocent eyes and the gentle curve of her plump lips made him want to run screaming back the way he had come. But his feet were rooted to terra firma. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how delicate pure evil could look.She hugged her teddy bear close to her chest, batting her long lashes as she tugged at his sleeve. “Why don’t you ever tell me your name, mister?” she asked, her voice filled with childlike curiosity.“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, snatching his arm from her grasp. “My name isn’t any of your business, Demon, because you are none of mine.”The little girl pouted and hissed softly, her lips parting just slightly enough to reveal shark-like points that capped each tooth. His name was Tristan Gabriel, and there was officially no way he was going to tell her that now.“Where’s your master?” he dem
Going HomeIt's funnythe way the days chase each other,mixing together in a blur that spans weeks months yearsjumbling the things of which I thought I was sureWhat are memories, anyway,but subjective snapshots of time?maybe you were never there at allI can't remember your voice anymore.I think I forgot itthe moment you left.But there's always that one line repeating...I'll miss it. But it's good to be going home.
Sparrow-Chapter 22Danni had decided to pass off the lights in the sky as her imagination, coupled with two separate alien reports in the same day. Besides, she was too excited. Her father had given her permission to go to Aubrey’s party when they had finally pulled into the driveway of their summer home on the outskirts of Lafayette, Colorado. She definitely had better things to do than to concentrate on UFOs at the moment, anyway.Hopefully Danni would be able to talk to Grant in a day or two. He was currently stationed at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. She knew her brother wouldn’t be able to tell her about the sightings directly, but he had always been able to get the truth across to his sister in one way or another.“Okay, nobody leave empty-handed!” said Frank loudly as both his children raced for the front door of the house. This was one of Frank’s favorite sayings upon arriving at a long-awaited destination. It was also one of his favorite sayings for h
Sparrow-Chapter 11They came out of the sky the day every single person on earth was looking. They brought their promises, and their hopes, and every single last dream there to the dust of a world too ruined to ever be saved. They came to take what they knew could never belong to them, and they took it without a fight. When they left, they took perfection with them back into the stars, back into the inky darkness of eternal night.Danni Pearson read over the words she had scrawled across a crumpled loose leaf page in a sleepy hand, and scowled. Dumbest opening to a novel I’ve ever read, she thought, tearing the page neatly in quarters and dropping it into the waste basket. No more three A.M. bursts of inspiration from dead sleep for me. Out loud, Danni called down the upstairs hallway, “Mom! This summer class is gonna be the death of me!”She heard her mother, Nancy Pearson, let out an exasperated sigh, followed by soft footsteps down the carpeted hall. The smile
The LampI threw that lamp away today. The tall, floor lamp with the faux brass finish. A dream-catcher and a cat that loves feathers just so happened to spell out its demise in a violent dissonance of shattered glass, cat yowling, and the pounding of my own heart in my ears. I just find it strange that, of all the times it's fallen in my room before and though it landed on carpet this time, the etched glass bowl chose now to break.It made me remember that day. You know...you remember, don't you? Dad and I had slaved for days painting the walls and putting up that wallpaper mural. It wasn't until after we had finished our task that we realized none of my old bedroom things went with my new, more mature décor. I had grown out of the pastel hearts, and lacey pillows, and teddy-bears. I'd moved on to Italian vistas, and marble pillars, and rich wood. I slept that first night beneath the pink and white striped bed covers that I had used for the last twelve years of my life, silently bemoaning
Ashen Sky-Chapter 17The Zombie soldiers caught sight of the group on their Segways and chortled to each other in not-quite-human speech. They reminded Matt more of primates, using gestures and chattering grunts, but they were definitely communicating. And that could only mean one thing."They're getting smarter," Matt whispered to no one in particular."You're right, city boy," Riley murmured back, wheeling his Segway closer to Matt. "So, what do we do? You n' Sara used our only smoke bombs."Matt had grown accustomed to the group looking to him for direction, but he still felt incredibly awkward calling himself their leader. From inside Sara's duffle, Matt could hear Peaches growling lowly. He nearly laughed at the mental image that flashed through his head---a beach-ball puff of orange and white squished in with all of Sara's
whatever it was she had in there.More bricks, maybe. This time, he really did laugh."What's so funny about this?" demanded Tess, her sea-green eyes flashing
Ashen Sky-Chapter 16Fallout shelter. That was what they needed. There was no way they could make it out of the city and far enough away to avoid the fallout if a nuclear bomb really was dropped. Not on foot. Not with all the Zombies everywhere. Not with the army barri--"The army barricades!" Matt said suddenly, ignoring his raised index finger as he interrupted Riley and Tess's argument over who would be carrying the extra supply pack first while Honduras looked on, lost.Tess began to roll her eyes at Matt, but caught herself, and instead flashed him an interested smile. "What about them?" she asked sweetly as she reached for his raised hand and intertwined their fingers.Matt figured they were no what the normal world would have considered boyfriend and girlfriend, except---in the normal world (the world that existed just a week ago, Matt thought dismally), he never would have stood a chance with Tess. He supposed social norms probably did not exist anymore, anyway, considering half the U
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desksat school.i don't think they liked the language i usedwhen i wrote how my heart was beatinglike headboards against the walls of people fuckingat 3 am to the sounds of joy divisionwhenever you read me paintings at dawn.they were going to send me to the counselor,but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,so they just let me go.but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roofand laughing when we argue about rimbaudand sighing as we start to die.
ElenaElena followed me homefrom work one nightand stayed for tea and eggs,and all that minimum wageand wars between the sheetscould bring.She said she was a goddess,daughter of a carpenterwith her long red, red hairand eyes as warm as hazel nutson Christmas morning.Her hands spoke brailleacross my backand made the silenceof Sunday into a prophecy.She left one Octoberjust like she said she wouldwhen the fireflieshad turned their wings to ash.And I found revelationin red, red wineand cheap red, red fabricthat came off in my handslike summer.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyand says, "i don't like whatyou've done with the place."
WineHead on a patisserie tablewith a wine-scented napkinthat I scrawled your name all overin the hopes it might necromanceor just romance youto this place, at this time,so we could be together againand although the guitarist knowsthat I'm broken beyond blueI keep reaching for the bottlein the hopes it might recreateor just replicateyou.
Venom QuillVenom Quill 9/26/14I'll tattoo you with a poison quillall the venom I will spillSo all the misery you imbuedwill permanently stick to you.I cannot find any timewhen you did not feed me lines.So I will etch on you all thepain inside my skinuntil the message sinks right in.
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,or to have myself cradledin the curve of a throat,but to be broken,to be diminishedby your lack of affection& over indulgence of sexualization.but i,uneducated in your intent,found myself left entirely whole& incapable of the furyi had sought to sow between theridges of my aching ribs.
short history of the universe(what it's like is anne sexton quoting van gogh about sometimes having a terrible need for religion)Genesis:A lake slams into a bus and a city is unborn.Enter an ocean of fog and then desert after desert stacked above the hills.Then you get drunk as fuck near the tumbling skyline,and this god damned room burns like prayer in your chest.Then many missing scientists reappear in your brittle beach,and your satellites in relapse all bending,and what it's like is some kind of disaster, honestly;the arms and the aerosol and the linen and the light.And the rumble forwarding the sovereign wreck sayingsurvive yourself like you've survived me;saying the game-changing theory was that everything is always moving,always,and same for the carousal shadow bleeding through the mountain in your dream,same for your silence and the sudden red rain of witnesses.And then what unconquerable continents,what strange forecast occupied via gate via wind and wave-multitudes of sick yellow branch
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echoof a cloudburst,the earth curls invisible fingersabout my achilles' tendon& pulls;she cries that i am notintended for the clouds,that my mind must not wanderbetween their susurrous concavesso i,furious with her insistence,her petulance,untether myself from the soft,diaphonous comfort of the heavens& sink,down into the weight of gravity.listless green blades welcome my soles,stimulating a tickle,an itch,a sneeze; i never have done wellwith nature,but oh,she is calling for me,soft-tongued and crisp in herown shadow,& i am sorely temptedbut no,no--i am not for the soil.lungs listless,she becomes my inhale;lightheaded& translucent,my alveoli shudderbeneath her force--i am not for the air, either.mellow-skinned,i stand beneath her onslaughtuntil she tires,her molten heart beating beneath my toes;unable to woo me with her facets,she pirouettes,cloaking me in one last attempt,a final shadow.my pores bloom& i r
A momentLying hereIn painSufferingAloneTryingTo makeSome senseOut of thisLifeDesperatelyWhile myHeartKeeps beatingKeeping meAliveMomentAfterMoment
Just YouWill you love me?'Cause if you won't...Someone else will.Can you hold me?'Cause if you can't...Someone else can.Do you want me?'Cause if you don't...Someone else does.But the thing is...I don't want someone else.I want you.