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#excerpts of stories
teriyachi · 4 hours ago
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story🕷
{Просто набросок, который меня нравится}
Через секунду из угла, ведущего в большой зал вышла Герти, крайне изысканная, и также крайне вспыльчивая. Девушка как обычно тщательно подобрала себе наряд на день - это было не очень пышное, тёмно-зелёное платье в пол с декольте. Ключицы украшены серебряной цепью с кулоном. На пальцах, как обычно, колец штук 30, не меньше, и гремящие браслеты на запястьях. Светлые волосы она распустила, лишь заколола с одной стороны. Платья и внешний вид остальных сестер был более скромен, но ничуть не хуже.
- Ого, олень, дотащила до дома сама? А ты не теряешь хватку.
Изолд с легкой гордостью улыбнулась, и сняла кожанные перчатки.
- К слову, я не смогла разбудить Барбел, спит весь день.
- Не волнуйся, на запах еды прискочит. - Сказала Эрнста, выбирай прихожую от грязи и крови оленя.
***
Шикарный, резной стол из красного дерева стоял посреди большого зала. В углу тихо тлели бревна в камине, на столе синим пламенем горели заколдованные свечи, освещавшие все вокруг на милым приглашенным светом. Он был уже накрыт множеством блюд: свежее оленье мясо, три вида салатов из овощей, выращенных девушками в их саду, приготовленный разными способами картофель, свежеиспеченый торт на десерт, пирожные, ну и конечно же, чтобы запить все это, пару бокалов людской крови. Только так они и поддерживают свое существование в заперти леса.
За стол сели все девушки, за исключением Барбел.
- Как она меня бесит... - закатила глаза Изолд.
- А меня от тебя тошнит, - отозвалось из-за ее спины. Обернувшись, Изолд увидела Барбел - третью по старшинству сестру. Её каштановые вьющиеся волосы свисали ниже груди, слегла прикрывая лицо и глаза, сияющие ярче всех из ее небольшой семьи. Девушка была одета в свое белое хлопковое спальне платье, которое сшила когда то сама. Барбел быстро переместилась сюда, как только услышала недовольство в свою сторону.
- Барбел, садись ужинать, ты весь день спала, - позвала ее Эрнста
- Я хотела отоспаться после бессонной ночи, была идеальная фаза Луны. Одно удовольствие практиковаться в перевоплощениях и гаданиях. Только ваши постоянные сплетни обо мне не дали выспаться.
- Никто о тебе не сплетничал! Мы говорили правду, да и совсем не обидную, - улыбнулась Герти, любовавшись сонной сестрой и своей любимой девушкой.
Барбел мило улыбнулась ей в ответ, и села справа от Эрнсты.
Девушки приступили к ужину. Тарелка за тарелкой, и почти все, что было за столом оказалось съедено и выпито. Трудно насытиться простой едой, она не дает им той сытости, которую давало человеческое мясо.
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celestialprint · 2 days ago
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You wake up to the sunlight pouring into your sheets and give yourself a minute to fully wake up. Like a cat stretching after a long, peaceful nap. You brush your teeth with the same mint toothpaste that you used even before I was part of your life, and you eat the same brand of cereal at the dining table. You drive the same path to work as you always do. You sit at your desk and type up reports and fill out forms over the click-clack of keyboards and the sounds of traffic from outside the high-rise building. You stop by the grocery store after clocking out and eat cold, leftover pizza on your couch, watching reruns of a show you could care less about. Wash, rinse, repeat; you will rinse me away eventually. My stain on your life is not permanent; it fades with a bit of bleach. You live, with or without me. The stars do not re-align after someone leaves your life — they keep spinning, no matter how desperately you wish the universe would come to a stop, that the sun would stop rising and the moon would no longer light up inky skies simply because the one you loved is no longer by your side. How many times I have longed for the world to simply exist, frozen in time, so that I would not have to deal with the heartache. I know. My side of the bed is cold and empty and you will have to throw away my toothbrush from your bathroom sink and pick up the pieces I left behind, but... You lived before me. You will live after me, too.
How do you live when someone is gone? 
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6pmhummingbird · 3 days ago
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Merry-go-round of Life
I have tasted highs. I have tasted lows. Stoic, I try to remain, as the goings-on of the world around me continues, hoping that I may regain freedom.
I may have gotten used to the normalcy of daily life; in that normalcy I have tasted experiences I thought never possible for the likes of someone like me.
I find myself back in a familiar situationーapprehensive yet nostalgic. Pushed against a corner, feeling helpless and dejected.
These experiences I must protect; futile as it may be, neutrality is never an option. The blessing in disguise may probably be the calmness I still feel despite all these uncertainties.
When all is done and dusted, this may be a poignant reminder of one of many experiences such experiences. I am an amalgamation of experiences; I am human.
//6pmhummingbird
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blooming-anna-rose · 6 days ago
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“And the spring feels as if I am greeting an old friend. The morning air, the birds singing, the longer days, it all feels reminiscent of something I thought I lost. It feels like a fresh page in a familiar story. Maybe it is a new beginning, or maybe it is a second part to the life I forgot I had, the life I forgot was possible. Maybe it is because the last time I felt like myself was in the spring. Maybe the old friend I am greeting is myself.”
-n.c. // I missed you
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celestialprint · 6 days ago
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About all you can do in life is be who you are. Some people will love you for you. Most will love you for what you can do for them, and some won’t like you at all.
It’s hard. 
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luckylluminati · 9 days ago
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“When I was a little girl, I thought that love had to be delicate and fragile, similar to a flower. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that love can be different. It can be like a firework, explosive and bright. It can be raw, passionate, wild. Maybe even dangerous or reckless, but you shouldn’t be scared to fall in love. You are made of flesh and bone and muscle, and you are strong enough to handle any type of it.”
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anna-marie421 · 19 days ago
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Oh I cried for him…. I cried because he couldn’t see how wonderful he really was or how much I loved him. How worthy of life he was… I also cried because he was never going to know happiness or the gentle kiss of a woman in the morning as he left for work. He was never going to know the sound of his child’s laughter or the warmth of a body sleeping beside him. He was never going to know true love in it’s rawest form and that broke my heart more than he ever did.
-Amara "As the Moon Falls"
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driedautumn · 23 days ago
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Everyone writes about the one who broke their heart even though they'll never read it.
~driedautumn
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hitchhicker08-blog · 24 days ago
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// Conversation Snippets //
Snippet 2
The bustling roads
The chatter of the oblivious people around us
The noise was muffled, the kind you hear on an old recorder
The silence between us felt louder for some reason
I gazed at him as he studied the menu of the roadside cafe which we frequented, his spectacles a little loose from his ears hanging low on his nose
He frowned as he contemplated a rather foreign dish, his hands unconsciously playing with mine
“You know... I realised something about myself.” I speak softly, wishing to not break the trance we had created for ourselves.
He hums his encouragement, still not looking towards me. I feel it through his touch. He’s closer than he has ever been before.
I sigh as I prepare myself, “It’s easier to flirt... hold hands with someone I don’t have feelings for.” His hands stop playing with mine but he doesn’t remove them. For some reason the pressure of his hands are felt more now.
He looks at me through the hair falling over his eyes. I itch to push them back. He had been putting off getting his hair cut because he knew I would dislike it afterwards. He was sweet like that, in his subtle ways.
I look away, “... but with someone I do, it’s tough. It’s scary.”
“What are you feeling right now?” His voice is deep, kind of like a far off rumble before a storm. My heart beats quicker.
“Can I say neither?” I refuse to look at him but his presence makes me. He intertwines our hands even more and gives me a rueful smile, slowly shaking his head.
I take a deep breath, ”Well... I’m terrified.”
Saying I was terrified was an understatement. How could he understand, for somebody who relishes control, falling in love is the last thing they would want.
I wait for his input, the silence keeps getting louder. The wind rushes its ways between us and his scent overwhelms me. I could hear a wind chime in the distance and few people laugh.
“I am too.”
A weight seemed to lift off my heart but another replaced it. I released a shaky breath and looked at him, “What are we doing?”
He pulls me towards him. A comfort hug. The kind a friend gives another friend when they know nothing else would suffice. My eyes sting from withheld tears as my head is nestled upon his chest.
This affects him as well. His erratic heartbeat makes me sure of what I would say next.
“Don’t leave, okay?”
His hold tightens over me as he sighs, “I won’t. I promise.”
It’s strange when someone who’s always been so far away suddenly feels right within reach. When it does, you don’t know what to do with it. Yearning becomes a habit, difficult to get rid of.
What now? A question you’d never guessed you would have to answer.
His hand reaches for mine again and this time I grab him before he has the chance to, silently giving him my answer. He releases a quiet laugh, a mixture of disbelief and confusion, and I contently feel it through him.
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hitchhicker08-blog · 25 days ago
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// Conversation Snippets//
~ Snippet 1~
Music
Music has a way of making people painfully aware, of making them feel
The soft stringing of the guitar
A rumble of the ac in the background
Only the sound of the piano filling up the room
When you listen, the lyrics make sense for the first time ever
Every moment is heightened
Its like a high which comes as soon as you press the play button
As the climax approaches, your heart feels a bit heavy
Lying down on my back, I play with my hair as heat rushes to my cheeks
Its weird, I haven’t been this aware of you before
I can feel your presence even though we don’t touch
What is this? I think as I pull my hair.
My hand next to you feels taboo to move
I turn my head to look at you lying a few centimetres next to me. What are you thinking of with your eyes closed? Are you as aware of me in this moment as I am of you? Do you want me to hold you hand? Do want me to stroke my fingers across your palm as I observe you shiver beneath my touch?
I slide my hand into his
My curiosity getting the best of me
He raises an eyebrow, eyes still closed
“Why are you staring at me?”
I blush and stutter as I speak, “You have a big head, you know?”
At this he opens his eyes, frowning, and follows to rub them with his unoccupied hand. “I doubt that’s the only thing you’ve been observing. What song is this?”
I slide my hand out partially and pinch his fingers. He has a big hand, manly and even a little rough. I smile, “Fallen by Gert Tabner. Nice right?”
“Yes.” He sighs. Its loud in this silent room. I wonder if he feels overwhelmed as well. Its peaceful but at the same time my heart beats faster. Its painful.
Music has a way of making you feel like you’re in love even when you’re not.
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moth-with-a-pen · 25 days ago
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Seven Sentences Tag
Tagged by @andiwriteunderthemoon, tysm!
Victory would’ve killed this god, but Victory is dead. Victory would’ve killed him, and set him free. The beast has changed, and now he casts great epochs across the keys. He took a chance, but Time can never truly change. That shall forever be his curse. A little boy strikes ivory keys. The snow has stopped, but he cannot, for Time shall never stand still.
Tagging @thelostherondale, @vivian-is-writing, @no-url-idea-tho if ya'll want to!
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thatblondiesblog · 26 days ago
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He glances at me and my heart breaks.
His eyes---as fuscous as midnight skies---are congested with translucent liquids and the melancholy in them triggers my heartache. I abhor how those luscious lips of his are trembling and I abhor how his enormous masculine hands are tinted with a perilous red, bruises forming on their skin. But, vastly enough, the havoc of him, in front of me, is what mauls and pestles me simultaneously.
"Now I understand how much you were hurting." The scream persists to emerge from my throat , still I refrain.
It overwhelms me. His shattered stance demolishes the little strength I had.
"You do?"
He nods. "I want to cure you, I thrive to heal you so bad... Yet, I cannot." Another droplet recedes down his cheek. Numb, I witness.
"Why?"
"Because you are a poison. With each of your touch, I'm slowly losing myself. You are draining me and you are completely unaware of that."
"Nazir..."
"Stop," he wags his head ceaselessly. "Don't cause me more pain. Just...Just go."
I cannot breathe. My own irises are, in addition to, full of unshed tears that debar to chime. I savour it, the saltiness and it's more dulcet than my torment. "You know I cannot live without you."
"But, I cannot live with you either, Isolde. Tell me, how do you expect me to love you when you cannot even love yourself?"
When I remain tacit, he offers me a despondent smile. His expression doesn't illuminates anymore as once. Instead, a misted shadow has resurfaced and it jeers at me. It mocks me to the core.
"That's what I thought."
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ihatecoconut · 26 days ago
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Of Curses and Breaking.
As the firstborn, I had never worried about the family curse; every second child was doomed to a short life of misfortune, but everyone else was left unharmed.
But after my father passed and my mother remarried a partner with a child older than I, I discovered that the curse considered step-siblings as part of the order. It was gradual at first, tripping into a puddle here, dropping a glass there, but it slowly got bigger and bigger and more ridiculous- like all the second children behind me.
The day I came home after nearly being hit by a bus and then being splashed with muddy water by the same bus, my mother pulled her new husband into their room, panic in her eyes as she threw a quick instruction to my now-older-sibling. I realise now that she was explaining the curse to him, and that she had realised what an older sibling meant for me faster than I did, but at the time I didn’t think anything of it.
Sometimes I think being an idiot is part of the curse.
Callie cleaned the wounds I had gained when I threw myself out of the path of the bus and helped me out of my ruined clothes. She didn’t say anything, and she sent away our younger sibling when they came to stare, except Marty, who had been the second child previously. There was an odd look in his eyes when he sat down and pressed a rag to my still-bleeding arm, which I realise now was guilt.
It’s odd how dying places everything in life into absolute clarity.
Misfortune is an unfortunately ambiguous word. Sometimes it was getting food poisoning, even though everyone else had eaten the same thing and was fine. Sometimes it was having to re-do a test three times because the teacher kept losing it. Sometimes it was being yelled at for something because the email I had sent, explaining, had gotten lost somewhere in the internet.
Short, however, is not. Short means that it will be significantly less years than everyone else lives, and no second child has ever lived past twenty in our family, with most dying between the ages of fifteen and nineteen. Every birthday since my sixteenth has been a subdued affair. Everyone laughs at the idea that ‘birthdays are just celebrating being one year closer to death’ but when your life has an expiry date, it isn’t that funny.
Callie cried every time I blew out my candles. I know she vaguely blamed herself, as did her father, as did Marty, as did my mother. I wish they wouldn’t.
We made an agreement- all of us sibling, even Callie and her brother, just in case- that we wouldn’t have children. We wouldn’t adopt. We would never consider a child our own. We would break the curse. You might wonder why adoption wasn’t an option and maybe it would be, I don’t know, but if the curse considered step-siblings as a part of it, why wouldn’t it consider adopted children?
Callie is standing over me now, crying. I think she’s holding my hand, but I’m loosing feeling in my extremities, so it’s hard to tell.
“I love you.” She sobs. “I wish we’d never met.”
I don’t tell her that would mean Marty would have died. She doesn’t need that right now.
“I love you.” I whisper back, fighting through the pain. “Break the curse.” Darkness prickles at my vision. “Break the curse.”
Based on the prompt in bold by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor
@givethispromptatry
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“I would call myself a hopeless romantic, sure. I am hopeless in that I want a love so fierce and passionate and lethal..That a man would burn the world for me and never let the flames lick my skin. That I would be the nightmare of anyone who dared to harm or cause him an ounce of pain or darkness.”
- excerpt from a story I’ll never write
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a-losthope · 28 days ago
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Truth is I just don't want to love you anymore You can no longer lead me north And I refuse to be that little girl waiting for you to adore                     I swam deep in your ocean when you wouldn't even cross my shore You protected your peace while I fought all your wars But now here I am wondering, what was it all for?
I Don’t want to love you anymore // Ig: @How.ItFeels
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