A Winter Night's Plea

There was a sort of solidarity on the cold air that night, it whispered thought out the leafless trees and along the deserted country roads. It was almost as if the world felt as utterly alone and lost as the pale skinned girl standing bare foot in the snow. Her hair feel in shimmering onyx ribbons, shuddering in a dance with the winter air. The myriad of glistening snow flakes swirled around her in a well planed motion as a few of the melting diamonds caught to her ebony hair and sparkled in the watery light from the full moon. Her dark, sad eyes portrayed the loneliness of a thousand lives, glistening with the tears she left unspent. And her soft pale lips trembled slightly from the harshness of the cold, and the cold pain in her heart.

A solitary black sheet, Egyptian cotton, hung to her pale, thin frame like it was its only hope. She held out a trembling hand, so pale now that it nearly matched the falling snow, in greeting to the snowflakes that were descending, as they found a rest on her extended hand they simply huddled together. Finding no warmth on their perch to melt them, they stayed. She walked on, nearly invisible though the falling snow. The eerie silver moon light guiding her path as she wondered, she seemed as little more than an elegant, lone shadow gliding though the iridescent snow.

The iron gates of the old cemetery glistened like a silver metallic paint, and the frozen hinges groaned in defiance as she pushed them open, and moved silently though the plotted white ground. Her foot prints, a fading trail being covered by the fresh snow, made no sound in the deathly silence of the night. When at long last she reached the marker, covered in snow as if by a morticians sheet, a calm but trembling hand brushed the snow from the stone. The engraved letters, and deeply etched numbers stood tainted by the morbid atmosphere of the night. With a numb death like finger she traces the words and numbers slowly, painfully, one at a time. Mouthing the words with white, blue trembling lips she lies down on the icy frozen ground in front of the grave marker, as if she were lying there with some entity unseen to the rest of the world. A soft sound, scarcely audible in the enveloping darkness and the hush from the falling snow, escapes her lips in a whispered 'I Love You'. A single tear found its way down her ashen face, a silent tribute to the soundless grave.

The night passes like a silent thief and the gaudy sun began its reign on the day of man. Deep in the heart of the cemetery, off the path where cars can drive to make their warm passing grievances, there stood a grave marker. In the mid afternoon the snow surrounding it glittered like a million diamonds, frozen from the harsh coldness of the night before. Lying before the grave was a pale beauty, a single tear stood frozen to her striking face, she lay still as death, frozen in the snow, holding an unseen lover, covered by only the black sheet that once lined their bed. And like the tear, their love stood immortalized in the mid December snow. The marker of their love, which now rested above both their heads stood witness to her silent prayer and dying vow, which it stated on its cold uncaring face. "Lost But Not Forgotten: Not even the icy hands of death, nor his cold unfeeling kiss, shall ever condemn our love."

The Sad Angel And The Sea

Golden dusk dipped its radiant hands into the tossing dark ocean. The waves, nearly black now in the dying light, softly whispered upon the white sands. They spoke of untold horrors, and splendors. They wove tails of brave seamen whom ventured their waters in search of gold and adventure, of Poseidon who’s ever seeing hand guided and crushed them. The chilled waters of the royal Pacific curled around her bare feet as expressionless green eyes searched the horizon. The thin gauzy white cloth fluttered around her frame and stretched out to sea, in the same motion as her sweeping silken blonde hair. Dancing in the breeze it looked like a swaying wheat field on a warm day right on the verge of harvest, the strips picked up hues of gold, orange and red from the setting sun making her hair glow like a fiery halo, angelic in all accounts. The soft light remaining from the sun illuminated off of her pale skin, covering it with a false healthy glow. Soft pink lips sat parted slightly, stuck in the middle of a word she couldn’t seem to finish.

A lone gull flew overhead making his way to his nest for the night, as the soft echoes of barking sea lions faintly made their way across the cove. The spot on the beach now sat deserted as her footprints lead a path up a thin, sandy ravine, surround on either side by a rock face. Small sharp grasses sprouted from the sand and the rock, biting at her ankles and legs, and sinking into the bottom of her bare feet. The path became slightly speckled with blood by the time she reached the top. From the ledge the ocean looked even bigger, more vast than it ever could to one person, like an endless black silken sheet being tousled by unseen hands some where beyond the rim of the horizon, like it rested in the place the sun had stagnated out of sight. Lifting her ivory face to the newly risen moon she closed her eyes softly as the wind and pure refreshing rain placed their delicate kisses on her countenance. Spreading her arms in a welcoming embrace she invited the night to her, the sheet fluttered about her body wrapping around her arms and sides, stretching its corners towards the sea. Opening in its middle to reveal her milk white skin, unprotected to the night, to the blackness. For some time she was still, not moving, inviting the sea to take her. Making peace with the dark black beast that swallowed her love… begging it to give him back to her longing heart. Ready to give her self to the sea, if nothing more than to join him forever in eternal happiness.

The sounds of soft treads on the ground, only barely, whisper though the air. As the man with the dark hair and the kind, sad eyes approached her slowly, as if not daring to interrupt her sacred pleas. On the right of his face he bore the mark of hate, a reminder of his past life and a constant source of regret whenever he looked upon her. Never had the bargaining or pleading been with him… only with the sea, only with the immortal and uncaring sea. He lifted the blanket from his shoulders and gently placed it around her nearly bare frame, speaking her name quietly in the stillness. The pale angel gave him no reply, only accepted the blanket and stared off to the horizon, just as she did every night. His kind, weathered hand placed upon her waist he guided her away from the daunting edge, where she spent so many hours of her life pining away, and towards the small beach house across the white sands. It seemed like that was now all he could do... there was nothing to replace what she had lost, his only amends was to take her well being upon his self. To take her away from that cliff every dark and lonely night, give her warmth and a vain attempt at companionship. To try and give her the faint glimmer of hope she so desperately needed, and perhaps one day, if they both healed, he could give her back the love she so severely longed for.

For some reason unknown to him, the man with the kind, sad eyes looked back at the cliff as they walked. And for what was only the briefest of moments, perhaps not even the beat of a heart, there on the cliff stood a solitary man. Outfitted in a sailor uniform and captain’s hat, pale sand hair ruffled in the breeze and a smile was etched on his face. The man with the dark hair felt no threat from this man, not at this time, instead it was as if suddenly the sea stood calm, and the world held its breath for the perfection of the moment. And it was in that very moment, when a phantom wave swept up from the ocean and swallowed the smiling sailor as he bowed adieu to the kind eyed man; that very moment when a single flash of lightning split the darkened sky, illuminating everything to and beyond the horizon, that second when the rain suddenly stopped falling, and the breeze blew warm. It was then that the quiet, pale angel looked up from her path and at the man with the sad, kind eyes. And said in what was a small, beautiful and bittersweet voice, laced with something like utter sadness. "He isn’t ever going to come back to me… It will never give him back to me…" His only response was a helpless frown and a despondent shake of his head, then they lapsed back into silence as the air filtered between the rushes and the crickets sang along.

While she slept, silent and still, perfectly beautiful in her bed like a heavenly enchantress, he sat on the side of her bed for a long while watching her sleep. Some part of him wishing he could sleep as peacefully as she slept, never having to wake up from constant nightmares of a troubled and terrible past. He wished she could help him feel peace, as he wished he could make her feel happy again, like he knew she must have been at some point. He traced her lips and face with a soft touch from his seafarers hands as a single tear slipped down his face, following the path of the scar and falling onto the bed. With trembling lips he softly spoke into the darkness what he could never manage to say to her, in something so slightly above silence he spoke from beyond his soundless sobs… "I am sorry for what part of you has been destroyed, and I am regretful for what I have stolen from you… sad angel of the night, I don’t deserve to be near you. Please forgive a sinner for hating a man, and secretly loving a woman…."

"The Death Of Hope"

"WHY HER?!" Amael demanded to the unanswering heavens as blood red tears streamed down his pain stricken face. "Why!?... Her only sin was loving me!" The distraught rogue swore a curse upon the place she had fallen, swearing to avenge her death and find a way to keep her with him for all etternity.



So yes. I love this picture so much... so much it makes me want to cry. and laugh and what not. Anyway... yes I know she is pathetically skinny... I think it works for the whole Angel thing... I mean how could she fly if she wasnt light or whatever.... anyway here is "The Death of Hope" and there is a story behind this I may write later.

My Mind

Brush the top of my mind. What's there? What do you see lurking in the shadows of my thoughts? Can you see the blackness? Can you feel the cold? The ice and the emptiness? Lurking in my soul? Can you hear the screaming? A melody. Bitter sweet. Can you taste the burning flesh? A dance of flames. Upon innocent skin. Can you smell the dying? It lingers in the air. The thick perfume of decay. Over powering the dwindling fragrance of life. Wrapping it in its black velvet embrace until its breath and joy have ceased. Faltered. Failed. It smells here of rotting flowers, molding on the corpse of some forgotten maiden. Expired matchsticks, only just blown out by the stale breath of some half dead demon. Aged Blood, long since run cold in the veins of some unknown victim. That is the aroma of my world. Can you smell it now? Mixed with ash and sulfur that the white hot flames spit into the laden air. Try. Pull it into your lungs. Take a deep breath. Go on. You'll only find what I have . You cant breath here... why do you try.... If you are smart. Throw yourself to the welcoming fire. She dances like a gypsy. Her raven eyes and blood red hair. They beckon. "Come to me. My love will warm your broken heart" and if you look. Very carefully. You will find. Somewhere. With in the catacombs and headstones of this place. A tomb. Though it is not an ordinary tomb. On no. Its walls. Where they should be made of stone, and straight. Are made up of winding vines, half encircling up as a dome. Remnants of some life it once held. Coursing though its now black, dead vines. There is no entrance to this tomb. Not a single window. Or door. Or narrow passage. The vines have grown thorns. Long, wicked and cruel looking things. This Un-natures way of warning those who would dare to stay away. However. Where one to find some way into this place. Some means of passage that would grant them entry alive, to say the least. They would find.... nothing. The ground, not more than blackened layers of the ash falling from the sky like snow. There is a ledge there. In the back. The far back. A rather large one... where from. A tree is rooted. Enormous. Raising its dead branches and body well out of the tomb. The vines snarled around it where it has made its exit. And if you look. Oh so carefully. At the charred remains of what was once the roots. Can see. Entangled in them. Sleeping perhaps. Some form. With pale skin in striking contrast to the black world around it. The ash settled upon the face causing it to take on a gray, death like pallor. Lips blue from the cold harsh winds. Hair mussed and tangled with the tree itself. A girl. Garments in tatters. Some ruby blood still glittering where the vines have encircled her wrists. Who is this?.......... This poor frail, dying soul. There upon the ledge, incased forever in her own prison. Why this is no other than.......Me ................ but.... it was not always this way...... my world was not always this perpetual hell. Captured beneath this cold, heartless moon. It was. Once upon a time. Beautiful. So, very, very beautiful. There was. If I recall. A place I would go. Some where with in me. A sheltered place. Surrounded by the most fragrant and lovely plants I have ever known. All sorts of marvelous shrubs. All growing together to form a canopy over my place. Their lush green, filtering the sunlight to make a myriad of patterns on the mossy floor. There was only one way in. And only I knew of it. No one else in the whole world could ever find my place. I would sit there, every day. My back against the warm, friendly bark of this grandfather tree. How I loved him. His wise branches reaching up. Up to the sun. High above my little haven. I would close my eyes and rest here. So far from the cold world of reality. In my small little peace. Surrounded by bright, pleasant flowers. And dancing butterflies. With silken wings, and lace feet. That tickled my skin as they landed upon it. And then. One day. I began to realize something. The sun there. It had begun to set. And though I could still enter with ease. I was finding it harder and harder to leave this place of solitude. Until. Eventually. I still remember the feeling. As I entered though the lush greens... they slowly began to thin, to disappear. And thrones reached out and tore at my skin. I tripped on a stone and landed in a thick blanket of dirt. Only, it wasn’t really dirt. I realized with some amount of horror I have yet to fathom. It was rotted flowers, leaves... and broken butterfly wings. My gaze tore up to grandfather tree. He seemed so sad. So sick. I scaled his stature with my eyes. He was exposed. Naked. His mighty branches drooped away from the sky. Seeming to tell me to stay with him. And I foolishly complied. Crawling over to his once warm welcome bark, fighting the tears threatening my eyes. Believing that I could make things perfect again. His bark was cold. No life was there. And I cried. For how long I don’t dare to imagine. But when tears cleared from my eyes, the vines had established their rule. And choked my poor grandfather tree. And he. In turn. Trying to cling to life. Had claimed me. As his bounty. To remain in his grasp for all times. I tried desperately to free my bound body. But the vines soon curled around my wrist. And throat. They held me still. And forced me to sleep. So now. I sleep here. It is a troubled and unhappy sleep. The vines and their cruel thorns surround me and wait for someone to enter. Thirsty for blood to quench their starving roots. And I wait. In my silence. In my pain. For one to come along. One to rescue me. Ultimately. From myself. To take me far away from here. My precious Night. My immortal palace.
Love.
Shelter.
Escape.
Haven.
Sanctuary.
Prison.
Mausoleum.
Death bed.
Grave.
Funeral.
Death.
Sentenced to all. By no other evil than. Myself.

Who Am I?

I am I. I think. I exist. But know nothing of the grasping of the essence, of all that is under or over the abysmal attitudes that so wrack our awareness in the last autumns of mayhem upon the earth. ~Peretti~

"I am night. That which is the profound unholy. Black. And endless. The lost. The Confused. All found here. I swallow the screams of pain from the lungs of the hopeless. And devour the tears of those who have no love to cry to. I am. Soundless. Darkness. Infinite. And Cruel... For with out me... who is there to run to from the garish light of the sun and all its wicked splendor? None. Save Death. Who is only a step from my door. Knocking constantly. Snickering in your ear. Twisting your saddened thoughts to suit him. Can you hear him? He waits there. For those of you... whom... having nothing but sadness and desperation left. Flee to his loving embrace, so warm and caring... only to find. Cold. Heartlessness. And the mocking and bitter hate he holds. His Ice hands. Can you feel them? You should. They are. At this very moment. Entwined and wrapped around your pretty neck. Cutting off your precious breath. Can you feel him now? NO? His knife. And all its shimmering resplendence. Dripping with your life's blood. As he slowly lets you bleed on the icy ground.

This is the world out side of me! If you stray. My dears. My child. My keep. My precious. Frightened. Lonely. Love. This is the ONLY other path. Don’t let them fool you. Out side of me. No one will care for you like I do. Your precious Night. Your immortal. Love. Shelter. Escape. Haven. Sanctuary. Prison. Mausoleum. Death bed. Grave. Funeral. And you shall never leave me. Loneliness is all you can know.... Forever. Eternally. Even after you have passed! No love. No friends. Not even me. Can you take it? Will you risk it? Is it worth it? "

Yes...always.... how could it not be? With out you... I...am... nothing...