Puppet-Circus

In The Soundless Summer That Often Passes By Turns Its Face To Autumn's Grace And In Its Lingering Lies The Breeze, It Carries Voices. The Winds, They Carry Songs That Make Me Yearn For Better Days Where I Might Join To Sing Along. And Yet My Voice Is Silenced, My Ears Are Stopped And Cold. They Feel I Am A Voided Vessel Vacant In The World. They Say I Am An Empty Head, A Vessel Filled With Naught But Lead. A Curse Brought Down From Heaven's Eye That I Might Reflect Sins Gone By. A Saintless, Sorrowful Silhouette Of Man's Deepest, Most Dark Regret. I'm Bound By Law To Not Be Free. I Cannot Have Such Liberty As Those Given

It was chill at noonday. A breeze that danced through warm summer was as welcome to our little township as the traders with their exotic spices and far more fascinating accents and stories. We were small, oblivious to the world and lackluster in all respects. What we had, we shared, and the people grew a bond of symbiotic nature. This breeze spun around in small circles, forming intense vortexes that drew away the heat of the season in puffy breaths. It further drove its wild way into our fields, rustling our corn and wheat and barley with caressing fingers. The peaks and dips of the wind's nature was something I often found promising, as I w

Heartbreak. Broken. My breath steals away from me in a single bound. How can this be? Of all the rotten luck I've faced, I thought this one escape would be sufficient to keep me smiling. Instead, it turns into the hand that will plunge a knife cold and dead, without motive, motion, or feeling, into my swollen heart. I'd never been a girl of much importance. Shy, quiet, reserved, vague. Forgotten, most of all. People know my name, my face, and yet I am always overlooked, never counted in a group, and mine was a voice not to be heard. It seems sad but I once lived a lifestyle of joy and found no suffering in my daily. Well, until recently. The

But I Love You APRIL NARRATION I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't call me back. In fact, I was quite peeved. Annoyed to the point that I didn't even bother to brush the nasty little eraser shavings from my desk; for a girl like me, that was a big deal. All throughout class I just waited, hoping that I could find him in his usual hiding place. It had been a quiet afternoon when I had gone hunting for my Theatre teacher, to ask her about Musical auditions. There he was, all alone on the big stage with a single spotlight illuminating his figure, rehearsing something of Shakespeare's that I did not recognize. Unbeknownst to him I watched f

Why do you ask I say goodbye? Why do you wish To go? For when a person Says farewell, "Good riddance!" Mean they so. Why do you wish To just depart? Without a gesture Of rapport? I simply cannot See you go And leave my Tender heart so sore. Why do you blush When you see me? And not accept My love? You say we are Not meant to be, Oppose they, us In heav'n above.

Heart Beating Rhythmic Drumming Pounding Out Melodies That Say "I Love You"

Drake was an interesting boy. He was only a few inches taller than me, had recently celebrated his sixteenth birthday alone, and had no family left. He had been living with them in Florida, when they'd been attacked by a group of infected neighbors. Defeated them, but not without being touched. Drake and his younger sister had both hidden and not been touched, but his sister had run up and hugged her mother in fright when all was done. They knew what had happened, and that left Drake as the only one who hadn't gotten the disease. His family had gathered in the living room, and told him to run. His father had a shotgun, and Drake ran as fast a

I don't remember a lot of what happened between the death of Ben and the time we met our next group of strangers. It seems that it was exactly one week, but the days and nights went by in horribly passive and somewhat monotonous breaths. I didn't know why, but the will to go on had completely left me. It was a lot more than just poor little Ben's passing that haunted me. There was still a lingering presence of the kind old man I put a bullet through, the fact that my parents were gone, and for once the weight of every infected soul I'd taken life from. Regardless of what they had become, they were still technically living people, and that jus

Little Ben was the brightest addition to the team that we could've hoped for. He would sing merrily as he skipped along down the roads, which had now become mostly dirt road and open field. We were nearing the Rio Grande now, and our plan was simply to follow it Northwest until we came to New Mexico, where we would jump from water source to water source and attempt to stick with major rivers flowing in our direction. Conveniently for us, Ben's father had been a map expert, having a massive collection of them just to display. We used them all to our advantage, and we were having a much easier time as we could mark off major landforms and track