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Calling Rain.

Listen now,
Do you hear it?
Can you feel the rain?

Singing softly.
It's gone further.
Has it not?

Here I sit on the edge, alone.
Watching you,
Watching you run in the shimmering sun.
While I sit here in vain.

Is this Hell?
Or is it just pathetic?
I could step across,
Leave the rain behind.

But I'm waiting for you...
I'm waiting for you to push the rain back dear,
I want to hear it from a distance.

Anticipation


Twirling is the emotion of mind,
Never certain on heaven or hell,
Twining with despise of what is:
Right,
Wrong,
Horrid.

How Fragile is the human soul,
As a lover’s warm breath softly caresses the maiden’s cheek,
Softly blowing into her natural lust,
While her soul is stamped with heavy burden,
The knowledge of a husband awaiting her return.

Pity and horror twist and twine as self-satisfaction takes a role,
Deep in the dooms of a sinners soul,
Must one ask how diamonds falling from the sky, snow, can be so beautiful yet so bitter Cold,
Heartless,
And horrid as the storm blazes.

Anticipation of what is to come next,
The undeniable lust of instinct.
The caressing breath that runs down the spine,
A marvel that cleanses the soul, and yet fills it with fear and dread one can smell,
Taste.

And once lost in anticipations deadly snare of horrors and hopeful wishes that dwell,
One cannot help but wonder what will come next as they are lost in self folly,
Pitiful folly that never seems to reach an end.

Loathsome doth one become,
Knowing no loyal friends stand by,
And yet it is because they themselves have not been.

And when the spirit returns heavy and burdened into loving arms do they see that in the end anticipation fades away,

And they are what they are,
And that is how they shall be.

Angel

I can hear your singing,
Sweet crescent lune,
Here the bells are ringing,
Banging to your tune.

And all that lives will die to hear,
Your Melody, attributed to the dead,
To all the loved ones you held dear,
Your passions have not yet been fed.

When singing rain falls from the sky,
Calling hither will you fade,
Sweet Melody of mine, there you fly.
On the ground wishes you have laid.
Memories come,
And Memories go,
Where hate twists from,
I do not know.
With a blade it splits your heart,
Revealing veins of darkness,
The strings of a harp.
Here lies no kindness,
But the pumping death of greed,
Seeking all compassion,
But no warning would you heed.
And not an intellect would you ration.

You lived to love,
Singing to those listening,
And you died to love,
Singing to those grieving.

And with all Melody at hand,
Melody sought to guard Melody's love,
Passionate with a golden band,
And wings spread forth as a dove.

Sweet symphony of mine,
Hither do you fade,
Slipping away from all time,
Taking hold of that old blade.
When darkness creeps into Shadow's haven,
To where your passions live,
No thought will lie in heaven,
But to Lucifer will you give.

And when all your passions have been fed,
Hither will you stay,
Singing to the dead,
As all your loved ones fade.
And all that Melody can do,
Is spread those angelic wings,
And drape then in tribute to,
Old Lucifer's wring.
To write against those so dear,
To whom she uttered murder,
And lured into fear,
For Melody is a sweet symphony no further.

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

Never shoot to be good as someone, always shoot to be greater. I think there is great potential in your work Audriana smile

Part 2

Shortly after dusk Melody made her way back towards the village. She was soft footed, as most of her folk were. However on the other hand, they were also sharp eared. Therefore she had to step lighter then soft, praying not to be heard.
Her velvet robes clung tightly to her skin, a days worth of sweat from running was much like a fine glue. Though her linen rope belt was free adrift, when she leaned over a suspension bridge edge to look at the land below, the belt hung like a fishing line, searching for small prey in the misty ground below.
The elven town of Riveoth has a main core, a hollowed tree. To be exact it is the oldest tree on Taiash with a thirty foot width. Halls and chambers were carved throughout it, every ten feet or so there would be an exit to the outside, where suspended platforms formed the community. Suspension bridges, much like the one she stood on now, connected them.
The wood around the trees was not natural, left as it was received. Rather, it was carved with all sorts of beauty and gargoyles, magical symbols and ancient lore. Wherever you looked, there was artwork to be seen. Plants such as vine and moss were found lining the walkways, changing colours with the day, no wild plant was moved or harmed.
On the middle platform, around the tree’s trunk, stood the totem poles. Each generation upon reaching adulthood would carve and place a new pole there. It could consist of stories, their hops, their dreams, their past… it was their contribute to Elven history in the area.
Melody snuck toward the armoury, her gaze mingled and danced over the architecture, everything looked so different at night as twilight cast shadows of illusion. Gems twinkled here and there, appearing much like eyes sending a message to trespassers, ‘Beware’.
A shiver slowly made it’s way down her spine to trail across her skin, causing small bumps of fear and anticipation to taunt it. In normal lands she loved to roam the night, however here at her home there was an eerie feel.
Her pace came to a halt outside the Armoury door, if one were to look out of their window they would see her silhouette framed in the moon and starlight, mingling with the eerie architecture.
She set her hands on the door and pushed.

Well, i dont like much youre story, couse its theme is sooooo overused... like a mulan fantasy.