kryptiana

The game can be won and lost in various ways. Loss of nerve, forgetfulness, outside interference. There are a horrifying amount of factors in our failure in the game, all the human weaknesses condensed into a moment upon which so much relies. "My first move little seabird. I am the serpent, cunning and cruel." "I am the panther, quick and snake devouring." I feel her gaze rest on me for a moment, I give a slight shudder. I feel White feathers fell from the sky. "I am the hunter, strong, beast piercing." He begins his offensive, he is ruthless, as all Saints are. "I am the horsefly; sudden, rider-throwing." A horsefly? She is gaining balan

The first word I forgot was "Alexandria". The first time I used the word I was standing, staring at her blankly, testing the word in my mouth. It was clumsy. I knew "Alexandra" and by the point found it bland. But, with this, a single letter made all the difference in feeling. Slowly, I grew used it, and the feelings associated with it. The joy of running through the city with no destination in mind, the warmth of the sun on my skin as we walked through the field. The feelings of sunflower petals on my skin as she held my favorite flower above me as I woke up.  I stopped calling her by her full name, though I never left it abandoned. The f

Not once did she make up an excuse. When the dust settled, she was on the ground. Blood was smeared all over her face, and her body was thrown in a disturbing pose. Like a broken doll. Heather stared down the figure. There she lay, the former "Pride of Aaron", but now she seemed no more than what she was. Human. She laughed. Dead, of course she's dead. They had been fighting for an hour, Heather was hardly scratched and the other's body was riddled with bullets. The body lay there, no movement, blood drenched the dirt beneath her. But, despite all of this, doubt lingered. The Body groaned. It's limbs twisted, it shuddered, and her head

A single giant standing alone, Waiting for opportunities. Standing pondering, Outstretched arms beckon me. The very leaves inviting. As I stand upon the earth, Its very existence reaching out, Escaping the earths grasp. A single being, reaching out of Its mothers hold. Shifting leaves that open. To me, a canvas Of life. Shifting to me its creation. Moving, restless, its leaves laugh. A challenge of sorts. I accept, molding leaves to my will. Branches become animals, Leaves become fur. Yet, it doesn't yield. Laughter from leaves rustling in the breeze. The game continues, I do what I can. It moves on. A juggernaught of