WrittenLegacy

Three days have passed since Sarah and Melissa returned from Starpoint and since then Melissa hasn’t left the morgue. She didn’t eat she didn’t sleep she just wasted away staring at her brother’s body on that table hoping for any sign that he was alive. She didn’t care how impossible it was she wanted to believe that he’d wake up. As time passed she became weaker and weaker but no matter what she wouldn’t leave. Unfortunately, the fatigue and hunger became too much to bear and rather slowly she started to fall out of the chair. Her face was inches away from the ground but it never reached thanks to a hand clutching her by the shirt. “H-he’s not gon-n-na wa-ake up.” Elsewhere Sarah laid awake in her bed she couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried; her mind was restless with thoughts of everything that happened at Starpoint. Sarah looked at her clock and saw it was almost 2 in the morning. Sarah gave up and got out of bed hoping a walk might clear her head. She

"Vixen of the Dead" Even after all the work to return people's emotions, several crystals hung on the palace wall, glinting with red anger or purple fear. Their colorful, almost flirtatious, display only occasionally captured the diners' attentions. Queen Raynfall enacted this "criminal therapy" as an ill-advised attempt to protect Glacialane, even helping herself with her newfound remedy. But instead of ruling more logically, she slumped. Without emotion, there was no logical reason to care about survival. Cyras sat at her right, eyeing her over the sea of food. When she fought the queen, her will won out—her battle prowess was insufficient—but even after Queen Raynfall admitted her wrongdoing, the rebuilding process took time. Honestly, if the Queen's cabinet didn't notice she was depressed, then the chefs should have. The dining lounge was filled with offerings to the altar of Raynfall in the form of fatty cakes drizzled with chocolate. Vanilla wafers. Cocoa sprinkles. She

On a beautiful Friday in Elmore City, the Fitzgerald household's living room is full of suitcases and backpacks. The windows let in the morning sun, giving the room a serene glow. A particular tarantula ran through the clutter, adding to the energetic atmosphere in the room. The Fitzgerald family was packing up to leave; a peanut-shaped man, clad in a tattered beanie and a worn flannel shirt, was shuffling around, struggling to carry two overloaded suitcases. Meanwhile, his two daughters' mugs, hidden behind silhouettes of dark curls, picked up only a few selected stuffed dolls, blankets, and toys, piling them into their bags. Penelope looked absolutely stunning in her brand-new ensemble. She stood tall with curves in the right places: not overly busty, but perfect enough to hold her svelte frame. Her hair was like a sunset- burnt and orange with streaks of gold to catch the sun. She was graceful and strong, but most importantly, teal shirt sparkled in the light and fit her perfectly

Day 9: The climb up the mountain proved strenuous and taxing upon their joints. Cyras summoned flames to keep everyone warm, leaving that awkward feeling of a sunny spot on a chilly day. A necessary reprieve but not very effective. They’d feel the warmth on one part of the body, accentuating how freezing another part was. Occasionally, an updraft carried the smell of mold and fungus off the guards up toward Cyras. Having a more sensitive snout than the civics, she nearly gagged. After six hours, Cyras said, "Okay, we're nearing the peak." "Wait, really?" Lilu asked, having never thought she'd be surmountin' a mountain. "I thought climbing a mountain would take us several days?" "If you're climbing a big mountain, maybe, but no, we climb up and down all the time within hours." Cyras wistfully scanned the area. "Dewdrop Top is orange and yellow in the Autumn, and in Summer, this place has a radiant glow you can see from miles away. We rarely visited in Summer as we didn't see the

Everything was going smoothly at the secret organization of WOOHP. The founder and leader, Jerry Lewis, was currently playing a popular online game. He quickly turned it off when his wallet started beeping frantically. Unlike his prized spies who use compacts as communication devices, he used his wallet, which was strange to his mother when she once caught him using it in the lavatory. Either way, he quickly transferred the call to his computer to see what it was about. He was shocked to see an old schoolmate from his days back in England. The person on the screen was around his age but still had some vibrant red locks to her otherwise gray hair. “Hello, Jannie. Why are you calling me? If it's about the school reunion, I already received the invite via email.” “Heavens, no! It's not about that! I already triple-checked everyone on the list! After all, becoming the headmistress of our old school wasn't easy. But otherwise, I'm doing well. No, the reason I'm calling is about

It was drizzling as three college educators from Dawn Mist University got together for their weekly coffee date at Brooke's Brew coffee shop. It was a quaint little coffee shop, and it served some damn good coffee.  The first to arrive was Zia Angelo, who taught philosophy at the local educational institution. She was particularly attractive with her short caramel hair in a pixie cut and her captivating hazel eyes. She wore a stylish beige top and pants, showing off her gorgeous tattoos.  She quickly uncovered a large enough table for her associates to sit with her when they arrived. Her fellow professors, Fawn Sexton and Sequoia Bastion, came shortly after.  Each of her fellow teachers was quite attractive. Fawn had light black skin, adorable brown eyes, and dyed copper hair in an Afro. She was wearing a remarkably stylish dark green jumpsuit. She was the music teacher/ fashion design teacher who believed it was essential to look your best.  As for Sequoia? She had fair skin and

The young boy, the oldest of the new generation of a prestigious family, gazed at the wide stone doors beautifully decorated with arabesques, vines, roots and leaves. Behind these doors was a little being who had not survived his birth; the first born of a quadruplet set. Twins were rare and it was not uncommon for one of them to die after the first few weeks of life. So quadruplets; it would have been a sensation if they had all survived. Somewhere in the big, dark and cold castle, the three little ones who had survived were screaming for the loss of the first born, weeping for the missing part of themselves that had accompanied them from the warm and protective belly of their mother to the cold life that awaited them. According to family tradition, the stillborn was placed in this room in order to appease his soul. Every few hours, the predominant members of the family would enter and chant prayers to help the poor unfortunate soul to find peace. The little cold body of the infant

Twelve months since the strike of the storm… What a journey this has gone to be! Progress seen during the course of time, Rising from the shambles, coming back stronger. From weeks and months of disquietude Down to weeks and months of repair and recovery. Weeks and nights spent journaling with poetry, Needed breaks to vent my thoughts and emotions. Some of those nights back in the first month of this year… Had been spent for academic compliance to finish a term. Two consecutive weekends with internet troubles… Just kept myself afloat finishing homework. Got a booster jab for the first time… Thought I’d be ready for a return to physical classes. But alas, everything had gone online once more Instead of going for a set-up of both physical and virtual. Enrolled and ready for my final university term… Going headstrong in spite of cyclone troubles. My first solo road trip, down to the south… Simply to meet my colleagues for a research project. Signals jammed, cell towers needed

Saying goodbye to the girl I knew, to the girl I was. Sailing safe in her sweet dreams I truly hope she finds the world she believed possible for me and her. Staring at a beautiful sunset, I thought kindness went beyond the horizon, and love was as true as the sun will rise. I was small, I couldn't see the whole picture, I still can't, I still never will, but I can get a better view. So, for the small girl with sweet dreams, the mountains she couldn't move, I'll climb instead. I feel parts of my life I want to erase, but know I can't; parts of my story I may never tell, but accept; things I didn't have to learn the hard way that didn't make me stronger... and the light of the sun before it turns dark. But the sun will rise, I think that's the only truth I need. The rest is unknown, like what's beyond the horizon. If I could see that girl again and let her know I wouldn't be here without her, let her know I love her and hope she feels the same... But she's here, she's

Bitterness, inevitable. It feels like time has come for him. A long, hard-fought battle to live—eventually, it is lost. Oh, alas—the demons inside his head devoured him whole. A light that was shining brightly, now devoid of all energy… A life well-spent, the flare slowly fading away to the dark… He was a born legend—the party never died with him. A fighter who never backed down, who kept leaping forward, His illness still leaving him determined to live happily… Many more months passing by—yet he never stopped going forth. His life was fruitful and lively—the life of the party. A thrill ride with his band of brothers, under the limelight… While indeed, a break is needed, their friendship is withstanding. Life of family and love—he settled down, now chilling out. Happy dad to youthful beauties, loving husband to kind woman. But, oh noes… all inside his head, a malfunctioning brain. His inner glow was slowly dimming, such pain so persistent! His role was nearing the end, his light

Young kiddos around, Enjoying and relaxing. Chatter, games, critters; Playing out in the sunset… Moment of joyful freedom.

Maybe I’ve come from the outer planet Who just landed in a newfound locale… Maybe just a lucky stranger on it, Hoping not to lose my standing morale. From a peaceful, high place of harmony, The culture shock overwhelms my being. Right here, there is no sense of unity; Insanity is the way of living. Such a bitter reality, this war… Total deviation, differences. The way to peace is of distance too far, Human lenses barred from sight by fences. In this broken world, I’m a foreigner Who wishes to see life become brighter.