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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:01 PM   #1
Witty
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Mah Stories and poetry (I think Saphire would like this)

Tell me what you think:
A l t a d a r k

See those mountains? The dark one. The one in back. There. That's it. That's where they live. Running invisible, too far to hide, screaming laughter as the blood trickles down the chalk cliffs to swirl into the stream below. Pine needles underfoot, darkness overhead, running, always running, always the crimson wet blood dripping, dripping, down . . .

We walk slowly up the hill, over red clay and white quartz and pine needles touched with green. Sunlight from far above, whispering through the green to touch and tickle our noses, make lights in his golden-brown hair.

What was that? Not a squirrel, not a bluejay - too big, too small, too silent. Laughing from the shadows, running too hard to hide, invisible hands clutching crimson-tipped spears, while the blood drips down the white chalk cliffs . . .

He knows it, comes to stand in my view, his dark eyes searching mine. What's wrong? But there's nothing, nothing, just my imagination, nothing but the echoes of blood on the rocks, the silence of laughter inside my head . . .

Are you sure? No, no, I'm not sure at all, they're coming, they're coming, I can feel the blood dripping, trickling down the white chalk cliffs where I used to slide, down, down, down . . .

And I see his eyes, the sun making gold of his hair, he is asking, speaking, I cannot longer hear, blackness, shadows, and always the blood, dripping down . . .
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:05 PM   #2
AriTheDog
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saph is just waiting to sex you up now, i can tell.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:05 PM   #3
Witty
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hehehe.... and I got more where that came from!!! a lot more
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:05 PM   #4
Clayeth
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I can't write good poetry like that, I've tried but it always sounds really stupid
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:06 PM   #5
Witty
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that's not really poetry; it's more of a short story. Lemme make up a quick poem for ya
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:07 PM   #6
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addiction

Holds me captive,
unable to let go.
I kick,
and scream,
and struggle to be free.
Only laughs in my face,
and holds me a little tighter.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:08 PM   #7
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it reads like poetry anyway
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:08 PM   #8
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I can't write creative stuff like that, when I write something it always has to be about a specific topic...kinda an essay type thing.

I'm best at instructions or notes though, stuff that you've never seen me do before. Everybody thinks they're really funny. I usually only write them for my own reference, and then someone finds it and starts laughing, which is surprizing because I don't find them that entertaining.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:11 PM   #9
Witty
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That wasn't too good; Here's one I wrote a while ago:
conspiracy theory (paranoia in a purple box)

Generations come and go in color-coded boxes. They told us we were different, we were better. But then, how far can you trust a ghost, spork-tongued and wrapped in a corduroy blanket? We wanted to be better, we wanted to be more, but we couldn't escape the whirlpool colors and gunshot blastoff that was cable. Show, don't tell. Never tell. Let them scream you, beat you, rape you, kill you - but never tell. Horrible things. Horrible things will happen. Of course it's a conspiracy, we're both a part of it, didn't you know? Everyone is. The dirty man with the blood-matted beard that sits on the corner, and he doesn't know it. The pretty lady with the black gloves and the candy-stained red lips that taste like peppermind and Christmas and being seven, and she doesn't know it. She-with-the-storm-blue-eyes that trap me and the soft, gentle hands, and she doesn't know it. I, and I don't know it.

"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying to me."
"No I'm not."

Never tell.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:12 PM   #10
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More on the storie side, again.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:18 PM   #11
Witty
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hero's lullaby

Go to sleep, my little one
Finally, this day is done.
Worry no longer,
Fight no more -
The enemy's been vanquished,
Tomorrow's battles in store.
Sleep now, my hero
Close your shining eyes.
Believe all your dreams
And have trust
In tomorrow.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:31 PM   #12
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:31 PM   #13
Witty
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tears are free

hello.
are we mad?
i like to think
that perhaps you lie
or, more aptly,
are merely mistaken
you're only human,
you know.
bare knife cool burn
whispers smooth
lie to her always
play sincere yet
play
cry about nothing -
tears are free
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 08:43 PM   #14
Witty
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Here's a story I started:
Tangerine

It was a fleeting sensation, that touched and tickled and teased the back of her mind like a butterfly lighting and fluttering from flower to flower. There was a definite taste of Mahogany to it, with a slight dash of Foxfire. But what did they have to do with anything?

Simple. Everything.

Well, Jade was a factor, too, she thought idly, but being missing as she was, Jade had begun to fade out of the picture.

For a long time, she had tried to explain it to them, to show them and tell them about it, but the words got crammed and jumbled in her head, and by the time they reached her mouth were little more than faded, torn, crumbled monosyllables, mostly, "ummm..."

The acting had started as just that: an act. But, as happens so often, it seems, the stage became her world, so that she knew of nothing else. She forgot where she ended and the character she was playing began. Life was an act, and she didn't even realize it because she was too caught up in the acting.

Her thoughts came full circle, and returned to the stone in her curious, dirty hands. She turned it over and over, examining it from all sides in the warm, flickering, hungry light of the small fire. Across from her, a pair of dark eyes flashed, reflecting fireglow: Sable.

Chanspeak, of course, dictated that her actions and expressions should reveal nothing of what she had learned to the dark woman on the other side of the fire. Sable was of a different place, time, family, loyalty, religion - she could very possibly be a spy - or an assassin. But seeing as how no attempt on her life had been made yet, Tangerine - Geri to friends - suspected the former.

Sometimes she wished she had chosen a name less lighthearted, less open, less inviting than her own. But she had chosen Tangerine, and Tangerine it would stay. Her old name - the one she'd had in her other life, elsewhere - was forgotten by all but her, and even she struggled sometimes to remember.

Wanderer would have been ever so much more fitting, she thought, returning slowly yet again to the present, to the rock and the fire and Sable. But Wanderer was taken, and she already had a name . . .

Focus. Focus. The rock. It was indeed powerful, though not quite to the degree Sable had told her. And if Foxfire's estimate was anything, which it was, then this particular rock would not do them any good anyway.

She looked up, into the dark eyes across the fire. "Nope," she said slowly. "Sorry. It's not the one I'm looking for." Her voice was high, almost childlike, but clear and strong against the night.

Sable's hand reached out, a slim dark snake, waiting, palm up. Tangerine got up rather clumsily and dropped the stone into it; it promptly slithered back inside Sable's long, black cloak to hide it away. In a smooth, silver motion, the woman was on her feet, her cloak still swirling about her.

"My gratitude for your hospitality, Tangerine. Perhaps we shall meet again." There was a dark accent, strangely exotic, inviting, intoxicating. And then she was gone, disappeared into the night and the forest, and Tangerine was alone once more.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:12 PM   #15
Witty
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Here's one I wrote just now; not good, but hey! No worries, right?
Untitled
Her eyes opened slowly, greeted only by the harsh darkness of pure night. She sat up, eyes
drinking in what little light there was, thirsting for more. No moon in the sky, only three very
dim stars visible. ‘Where am I?’ she thought. She reached down to her belt, and, learning that
everything was still on it, removed her lightband and clipped it on her wrist. She flashed the
light over her surroundings; she was on a hill, with many formidable boulders strewn about, and
a tree a short distance away.
Then she felt something. She hadn’t eaten in, how long had it been? It felt like forever. She
began walking toward the tree, hoping perhaps to find fruit on it. The tree yielded no fruit, but
instead she found massive discs of mushrooms growing out from the trunk. She cracked off a
piece and was about to eat it when a shadow raced across her vision. ‘What was that?’ she
thought.
She removed her knife from its sheath, and, raising it to the ready position, she whirled around.
Nothing was there. She looked around for a minute, hoping to catch a glimmer of whatever it
was. Then she started off toward the rocks. Her search proved futile, and she eventually
returned to the tree.
Picking up the piece of mushroom, she took a bite. It had a taste not unlike others; she ate some
more, stopping only when her angry stomach’s rumblings subsided. Then, what sounded like a
growl caught her attention. She looked around, and found herself surrounded by creatures. To
describe them would have taken years; their exact forms could not be seen, for their bodies
trapped the light she shone on them. All she could see were black clouds of smoke with wicked
luminescent red eyes.
‘Ruuuunnnnn!!!!!!’ a voice in her head startled her. ‘Run! For we to hunt!!!! You prey, you
run!!!! We hunger, you run!!!!!’
Knowing she could not possibly stand a chance against creatures she couldn’t see, she ran. A
hopeless fear crept into the back of her mind; she was dead, and she knew it.
And all the while, the horrible cries of ‘Run!!!’ echoed across the hills.
‘Run!’
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:24 PM   #16
Witty
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To My Mother, Because I Can't
Say It Any Other Way


silent tears,
the ones inside,
the tears you'll never see.
and you're still laughing out loud,
and loving everyone
but me.
i'll tell the world nothing -
they don't want to know.
and the lonely star keeps wandering,
fading.
two double-edged swords clashing,
coming together,
yet pulling apart.
and i look down,
only to see that i am holding the blade.
a tiny bird sings sweet melody
that everyone hears but me.
'cause i'm too short
and only second place.
it's a slippery slope
and i can't find hold
so i'm sliding
ever more swiftly.
it's the little things that kill.
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:28 PM   #17
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Very good Witty. You paint words very vividly. Here is a good place to share your poems & stories

http://pub10.ezboard.com/bsaltydreamsbook2
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:31 PM   #18
Witty
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well thank you. I shall certainly go there
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:34 PM   #19
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They have a section for dark poems
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Old 4th Jan 2002, 10:47 PM   #20
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Sapph, you always have something cool *huggle* /me book marks
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