Transfer

For now, I shall live in a new Kingdom: Forgotten Daydreams. I'm hoping this will be more me and more lovely than this Kingdom, which I've grown quite disappointed in. I will not delete this old Kingdom, for it is a peekhole into my past self, but I may not frequent it as often.

I'd love to see you all there; you are very special to me.

Pocket Watch

The sand in the hourglass trickles away, sliding down... down... down... vanishing. Come back, I whisper. Come back.

I've stolen the White Rabbit's Pocket Watch. It's ticking, ticking... each second fairy dust slips through my fingers. I hide it in a jar and lock it away, where the Ticking Crocodile won't find it.

I still remember how to get to Neverland–– second star to the right. But some days I've forgotten how to fly. I cling to my happy thoughts, memories forever preserved as a constellation in the stars: searching for fairies at the bottom of the garden, gathering seashells scattered along the shore, lazy summer afternoons spent cloud watching and blowing dandelions. I'll never forget. I can't.

I'm twenty years old today. Too old, way too old, but not old enough to stop believing.


Image: "A Matter of Time" By Kathleen Patrick

Silence

I’ve lost my voice. It drifted away, tempted by the wind, into the vast and dark universe. I try to call for it, but out of my mouth falls only silence; sad, lonely silence. I can feel words inside me, trapped in shackles; they’re burning on my tongue, ready to burst from my lungs.

My Muse hasn’t paid me a visit for a very very long time.


Image found through Google Images.

Hearts

"If you're listening, if you're awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever more wonders."


Quote found on Tumblr, Image found on Google.

Brew

She had spent countless hours over her gurgling cauldron. Her eyebrows had long ago burned off, her hair was a tangle of sweaty locks and burns were shiny crimson splotches across her arms. She labored diligently long into every night, determined not to quit; she was so close to making her breakthrough discovery. Yet every night turned out the same: she’d fall asleep in the midst of cutting up dried roots or pig’s tongue, the cauldron’s bubbling a soothing lullaby.

But then one day…

It was an accident, really. Who knew that a handful of peach rose petals, seven black swan feathers, a teaspoon of honey, a sprinkle of sugar, two fresh raspberries and a dash of cinnamon would be the secret to flying? (Provided, of course, that you stirred the mixture clockwise, counter clockwise, centre to the edge, then edge to the centre a total of 777 times while singing Amazing Grace.)

She just had to test her potion. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dashed to her ladder and climbed to the rooftop of her twenty story flat. She raised the goblet to her chapped lips and was instantly enveloped in the delightful, airy sweetness of her concoction as it danced down her throat.

With a deep breath, she leapt from the building. The clouds were a heavenly swirl around her as the cool breeze carried her through the ocean blue sky. It had worked: she was flying! She was a genius! She was going to be so famous!

Later, the Police Investigators submitted their report: suicide.


Image found through Google Images.

Sun and Rain

"Life is like a rainbow: you need both the sun and the rain to make its colors appear. The only way to see a rainbow is to look through the rain."
~Unknown~

All images found through Google Images.

Wings

Image Sent to Me by a Loved One

Vanish

'What did he say?'
“Something about a diagnosis.”
We focused on the Doctor leaning against the pasty white wall, light glowing ominously on his starched scrubs; he looked like an archangel perched over the Book of Life.
‘If he’s standing at the gleaming gate, I’m turning back.’
I laughed at that; the Doctor gave me a look before returning to his paperwork.
‘Don’t laugh; you look like you’re crazy.’
Scratching scribbling filled the room.
Mother rested an icy hand on my arm––– pat, pat, pat. Translation: “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry, her catch phrase.
The Doctor began to rummage in a cabinet.
“He’s getting the medicine, the one he promised would––”
‘No! He can’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Make us disappear.’
‘Don’t be silly; we can’t just vanish.’
The twisting of a faucet and water bouncing in a paper cup echoed through the room.
Pat, pat–– two taps. I glanced at mother, with her worried, sunken eyes. A plea to cooperate.
The Doctor approached, three pills in his latex gloved hand. I wanted to protest, but at mother’s pat, pat, I obediently opened my mouth. The pills slid down my throat.
‘Don’t worry, little pills can’t get rid of us.’
‘We’ll never.... leave.... don’t.... worry....’
Silence.
A spurt of panic rose in my chest. “Are you there?”
‘. . . .’
“Answer me!”
‘. . . .’
Tears poured down my cheeks. The silence was a deafening echo. “Gone. All gone. Gone...”
Drained. Empty.
One pat, a brief touch on my shoulder–– “I’m sorry.”

Written based on a challenge to create a story no more than 250 words long.
Image by: Saumya

Les Fleurs

The flower offered of itself

and eloquently spoke
of Gods
in languages of rainbows,
perfumes
and secret silence...
*~Phillip Pulfrey~*


Images found through Google Images

Ocean Dream

I swim in an Underwater Realm amongst fish and coral reefs, my tail glistening in the ocean light. My fingers brush against the seaweed and seashells buried deep in the sand, stars of the sea. Pearls are laced in my hair, glitter dots my skin. Magic vibrates through the water in hues of green and blue.

I was born to be a Mermaid.

All of these lovely paintings are by Josephine Wall.

Invitation

Photo by Lissy Elle on Flickr