FlyingColorblind

It was stunning. I could see it, touch it, taste it, feel it, and if I had wanted to, surely I could have walked across it.  Stretched and relaxed with holes in some places, it was worn just to the right amount of comfort.  It held my hand and I smiled at the grip it had on me.  I had surely been looking for it forever without knowing it could even exist. My heart reached out and took a piece of it for itself, refusing to forget.  I was glad; I certainly had no intention of leaving it behind. I would have liked to capture it in a jar, but I knew its beauty could only prevail in its natural habitat.  Removing it would be a futile attempt of

Cheese gripped his chin. It dripped, a bridge to his bowl. When he smiled, his freckles danced. "Why do ya' think we got it this time?" A few words walked across the table. There was silence, save for the clinking of spoons and a plethora of voices.  One boy dragged himself from his meal for a moment, barely taking time to breathe. "Well, Sharon musta got some money."  Again he ate. "I don't see how she'd do that."  The cheese-chinned boy didn't take time to swallow, and noodles mixed with his words. "As she always does it," the other boy grinned after pushing the food down his throat.  His face was made of that cocky ignorance of a tee

His shirt was soft. I clung to it as I reached his side, puffing air and stopping just before my lungs burst. The scent that accompanied his being, his sense of being there, was a familiar one; it was somewhere between lilacs and a hard day's work. As always, his beard was long, white, and perfect.  It was just the right length to be rubbed against my cheek. A smile perched on his lips, and it fell upon mine as well. "Ruffie," he spoke.  That name belonged to me, but it also belonged to him.  It was ours, just like always. I breathed him in, and I knew I would be able to forever. Nothing would happen to him - he would always be mine.

I'm afraid to see you. Afraid of what might happen When you stare into my face With those eyes of yours, Those beautiful, blue-green eyes of yours; When you run your hand down my forearm, Holding it there for a moment before letting it drop away; When you say my name – Oh, I dare not think it. I'm already losing myself. I'm already lost. You'll be happy, but I'll be terrified. Terrified of the things you'll do, The things you'll say. Anything could trigger it, Anything could make it happen. Once, twice, And then I'll be torn, Because I won't be torn at all. Your laugh is the best sound, And that's what makes it the wo

Frigid and scratched from various incidents, the hardwood, oak table was always on guard for something to fall upon its surface. Right it was to be so, for in an instant or two, five cards were slapped down, facing the three boys that were huddled around the piece of furniture. Both the nine and ten of hearts sat patiently beside some hidden dispute that seemed to be going on between a jack, queen, and king of the same suit. Above the three face cards, like a god looking down on the people he had graced, a young man smirked at his friends. "Aw, Jack, you've got to be kidding me." One of them whined, laying down his own hand. Present there we

No twig cracked, nor did a bush ruffle its leaves in torment in the darkest hour of night. Blades of grass were plump this time of year, right at the beginning of the autumn season, when they had already soaked up the sun's smiles and the clouds' tears for months on end. Trees were also healthy, not readily breaking when having their arms pushed off to the side to allow one to pass. Mirroring the sun, shining in her own, less powerful beauty, Ms. Luna peeped out from around the edge of a cumulus puff. Surprising and unlikely as it was, even in the darkness shadows formed. A minuscule measure of light was enough to make some places more teneb

Dead Poets Society Fan-fiction. Todd Anderson's Point of View Monstrous and intimidating was the beast that stood before me, one that I had been training to battle for all of my life.  Its walls were high and tall, casting shade across the students, teachers, families, and guests who had chosen this beautiful day late in spring to come into its presence, leaving me to be but a speck in the painting.  A year or two more at Balincrest would be necessary before this new school would even be a consideration of mine.  For it wasn't my day to attack the beast, or even to begin the fight; I was not yet prepared.  My brother would rule the day inst

Dead Poets Society Fan-fiction. Todd Anderson's Point of View "Todd, you will be attending Welton Academy this fall." Although the voice was familiar, I wasn't used to it being directed at me very often.  On a regular basis, I was just asked how my schoolwork was going, or interrogated about something related to Balincrest, my school.  Talk about Welton Academy had always been in the future, held over my head so I would have to leap for it, whether I wanted to or not, as if the ground was on fire.  So, needless to say, the words of my father had startled me. Instead of being an aspect I would be looking ahead to, it would soon be one of t

The eyes on the walls Look at our flaws Their judgment is nothing but bent Built by our own force And directions, of course They became part of our defense The eyes on the trees Laughter at ease Try to show what they think we are But we are so safe In our structure and haste That we dare not look quite that far The eyes in the streets Critical pleas Are clear in their disfashioned selves Their words too are fake At the peak of the wake But more true than those on a shelf The eyes on the mirror Couldn't be clearer But still we do skew them in ways With despair and strife Yet while so full of life They'll haunt us for all

The waves rip and are torn In the eye of the storm Lights in the cabin all clatter With a shake and a tip Troubled is the whole ship Captain doesn't know what he's after. See, he'd set on this path For his heart's hardened grasp Would not allow this task to crumble Now his map is long gone But the barge does sail on Despite the words his tongue did mumble This started years ago He's an actor, you know His most simple tricks are not folly Through this masquerade ball He never did once fall You see, he did not end the volley Ah, on the contrary There was a young lady Whose feelings had once been requited While silence was t