Death, O father of mine... by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Death, O father of mine...
The cruel sun beat down, it's one malevolent eye unblinking, and the sky was it's co-conspirator with not even a wisp of cloud to soften the harsh rays. The lizards took shelter in the shadows of the rocks where the sand was not hot enough to roast them, but there was no shade large enough for us. Each step sunk into the searing sand, the air was thick and hazy, each breath like drowning in larva. The sun beats down on Queensland, as the wind picked up violently with the thunder coming from down under. The scent of dirt and clay filled the air like a virus as the sun goes dark. The rumbling of thunderous hooves followed along as a faint voice in the distance gave signal to this drastic event. “The Queen’s Purge begins…” Spoken hoarsey as the dust gall up. It was nothing new to him getting dirty was nothing special but he loved it. He layed their bare for the storm to swollow him whole. The rock he rest upon spoiled its color from a flaming red to a deep maroon. Raucous grons
“Just before dawn, the eastern sky fills with blended tones of rosy pinks and sandy yellows. A subtle way to welcome a new day, a new beginning. Tea in hand, my fingers trace the steam swirling above the warm liquid. The scent of orange spice tickles my nose as I sip in solace and wait. Suddenly, the mighty sun breaches the horizon and the sky explodes with beautiful colors. At that moment, the firmament is more vibrant than any fresh mango or tangerine could ever be. A mere glimpse of heaven that quickly fades into the blue. A gift for the wayward children still exploring the universe in those early hours. Sunlight fills the air, gently kissing the faces of all good things that are wild and free. The peace felt in those fleeting seconds becomes eternal as I draw the deepest breath and lose myself in the morning view. All was calm from the eyes of the hawk, the people below my sight walking along in due haste as the tension they held them apart was thin. The sparks that followed
The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called the body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul. The gentle breeze blew across the open field of golden grass, the wheat stood short to the sight of its viewer. No words were spoken within this golden sea, the waves of King Midas curse flowed through and through. The song of mother earth breathes into the ears of sin, her angel vocal cords springed water of unholy tears from his eyes. Standing above all with no ground to feel the comfort of motherly love. The man who viewed and heard the song of pure couldn’t enjoy the satisfying jouissance in his soul. He sat above the golden sea as gravity had no hold on him, letting him stand freely on the edge of his seat. The breeze brushed agents the wheat, pushing it back mildly for it to bounce right back. Wave after wave formed with no boundaries of stoppage.
The spring washed in like the tide, advancing confidently with warmth and white sunshine one day and retreating the next. On some days the new vibrant hues of the pansies and daffodils were bathed in tepid air that encouraged them gently, on others the wintry wind gusted fiercely - demanding a return to the bitterness of the months before. But like the tide, the spring would not be stopped, it pushed on right into May, banishing the chill to memory. By then the birds were busy with feeding the never ending appetites of chicks and the cats prowled the hospital grounds in the hopes that one might fall. Sometimes the rain would fall gently, and other-times lash at the windows of the ward, but it's iciness was quite gone. It was on one of these warm but wet mornings that Semaj finally got his motivation, lifting himself upward. Yet he leaned back down resting his upper back agents on his pillow. Letting out a tiring yawn escape his widened mouth, it was another day of school for him. He
Bella And The Easter Lime by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Bella And The Easter Lime
The autumn breeze carries fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come. As newly chilled air moves the clouds, streaks of brilliance breakthrough from a patient sun. She let her eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of street, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting her brain be still. Then when she want to see, it's as if she just arrived here, beamed in from some other place and time, able to see clearly. This autumn breeze has a way of moving her hair, of tousling it into buoyant curls. It carries with it the fragrance of earth, soft after the washing of the rain, and a sweet and steady sense of joy. And as it dances with the canopies of flame, it alights both eyes and soul, yet more as the feeling of a mother's lullaby, a comforting delight. Kissopulies was at its all-time low, quarantine had people stay at home and enjoy personal time with their loved ones. As it was also a special day today for many as well, the day of the mothers. Mother's Day was
Yang's Eggcellent Easter Hunt by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Yang's Eggcellent Easter Hunt
Before the day had started for the masses Yang was already in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to go. Outside it is as black as night, only by the clock can she could tell the difference between the time to sleep and the time to rise. She was fully ready for training, leaving before the crack of dawn gave her a head start to do her morning jog. Starting her morning with some daily stretches, to break out those sleeping bones.
“I hope dad doesn’t mind me stepping out” working out her final stretch. Yang grabbed a sticky note from the table and a pen, writing a note so her dad doesn’t worry about her.
“Went o
Micheal And The Easter Devil by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Micheal And The Easter Devil
Just before dawn, the eastern sky fills with blended tones of rosy pinks and sandy yellows. A subtle way to welcome a new day, a new beginning. Tea in hand, his fingers trace the steam swirling above the warm liquid. The scent of orange spice tickles his nose as his sip in solace and wait. Suddenly, the mighty sun breaches the horizon and the sky explodes with beautiful colors. In that moment, the firmament is more vibrant than any fresh mango or tangerine could ever be. A mere glimpse of heaven that quickly fades into the blue. A gift for the wayward children still exploring the universe in those early hours. Sunlight fills the air, gently kissing the faces of all good things that are wild and free. The peace felt in those fleeting seconds becomes eternal as he draws the deepest breath and loses himself in the morning view. Micheal watched the morning dawn rise as the fowl night faded. “Nothing like a cup of tea in the morning to wake you up” pinching the handle with just two
PJ and The Kiss in the Box by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
PJ and The Kiss in the Box
There is nothing friendly about the snow outside; it falls thick enough to blind any traveller by foot or vehicle. The gale whips each flake, so pretty on its own, into a projectile that hurts unguarded skin. The sky above has none of the light that noon-time should have, so thick are the black clouds. And the sound, dear God, the sound, like one wind-chime taking the force these almost hurricane force winds. "Blizzard" hardly seems an adequate enough word for what the world outside has become.
Flakes pelt against frozen cheeks, cling to eyelashes and hair. Numbs exposed skin, pain in fingertips and toes, creates an exhausting chore to break
Death, O father of mine... by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Death, O father of mine...
The cruel sun beat down, it's one malevolent eye unblinking, and the sky was it's co-conspirator with not even a wisp of cloud to soften the harsh rays. The lizards took shelter in the shadows of the rocks where the sand was not hot enough to roast them, but there was no shade large enough for us. Each step sunk into the searing sand, the air was thick and hazy, each breath like drowning in larva. The sun beats down on Queensland, as the wind picked up violently with the thunder coming from down under. The scent of dirt and clay filled the air like a virus as the sun goes dark. The rumbling of thunderous hooves followed along as a faint voice in the distance gave signal to this drastic event. “The Queen’s Purge begins…” Spoken hoarsey as the dust gall up. It was nothing new to him getting dirty was nothing special but he loved it. He layed their bare for the storm to swollow him whole. The rock he rest upon spoiled its color from a flaming red to a deep maroon. Raucous grons
“Just before dawn, the eastern sky fills with blended tones of rosy pinks and sandy yellows. A subtle way to welcome a new day, a new beginning. Tea in hand, my fingers trace the steam swirling above the warm liquid. The scent of orange spice tickles my nose as I sip in solace and wait. Suddenly, the mighty sun breaches the horizon and the sky explodes with beautiful colors. At that moment, the firmament is more vibrant than any fresh mango or tangerine could ever be. A mere glimpse of heaven that quickly fades into the blue. A gift for the wayward children still exploring the universe in those early hours. Sunlight fills the air, gently kissing the faces of all good things that are wild and free. The peace felt in those fleeting seconds becomes eternal as I draw the deepest breath and lose myself in the morning view. All was calm from the eyes of the hawk, the people below my sight walking along in due haste as the tension they held them apart was thin. The sparks that followed
The sky was black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. It was the softness that called the body and brain to rest and let the heart go to its steady rhythm. Night came as a reward of sorts, a restfulness above to calm the soul. The gentle breeze blew across the open field of golden grass, the wheat stood short to the sight of its viewer. No words were spoken within this golden sea, the waves of King Midas curse flowed through and through. The song of mother earth breathes into the ears of sin, her angel vocal cords springed water of unholy tears from his eyes. Standing above all with no ground to feel the comfort of motherly love. The man who viewed and heard the song of pure couldn’t enjoy the satisfying jouissance in his soul. He sat above the golden sea as gravity had no hold on him, letting him stand freely on the edge of his seat. The breeze brushed agents the wheat, pushing it back mildly for it to bounce right back. Wave after wave formed with no boundaries of stoppage.
The spring washed in like the tide, advancing confidently with warmth and white sunshine one day and retreating the next. On some days the new vibrant hues of the pansies and daffodils were bathed in tepid air that encouraged them gently, on others the wintry wind gusted fiercely - demanding a return to the bitterness of the months before. But like the tide, the spring would not be stopped, it pushed on right into May, banishing the chill to memory. By then the birds were busy with feeding the never ending appetites of chicks and the cats prowled the hospital grounds in the hopes that one might fall. Sometimes the rain would fall gently, and other-times lash at the windows of the ward, but it's iciness was quite gone. It was on one of these warm but wet mornings that Semaj finally got his motivation, lifting himself upward. Yet he leaned back down resting his upper back agents on his pillow. Letting out a tiring yawn escape his widened mouth, it was another day of school for him. He
Bella And The Easter Lime by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Bella And The Easter Lime
The autumn breeze carries fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come. As newly chilled air moves the clouds, streaks of brilliance breakthrough from a patient sun. She let her eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of street, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting her brain be still. Then when she want to see, it's as if she just arrived here, beamed in from some other place and time, able to see clearly. This autumn breeze has a way of moving her hair, of tousling it into buoyant curls. It carries with it the fragrance of earth, soft after the washing of the rain, and a sweet and steady sense of joy. And as it dances with the canopies of flame, it alights both eyes and soul, yet more as the feeling of a mother's lullaby, a comforting delight. Kissopulies was at its all-time low, quarantine had people stay at home and enjoy personal time with their loved ones. As it was also a special day today for many as well, the day of the mothers. Mother's Day was
Yang's Eggcellent Easter Hunt by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
Yang's Eggcellent Easter Hunt
Before the day had started for the masses Yang was already in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to go. Outside it is as black as night, only by the clock can she could tell the difference between the time to sleep and the time to rise. She was fully ready for training, leaving before the crack of dawn gave her a head start to do her morning jog. Starting her morning with some daily stretches, to break out those sleeping bones.
“I hope dad doesn’t mind me stepping out” working out her final stretch. Yang grabbed a sticky note from the table and a pen, writing a note so her dad doesn’t worry about her.
“Went o
PJ and The Kiss in the Box by kingoffusion, literature
Literature
PJ and The Kiss in the Box
There is nothing friendly about the snow outside; it falls thick enough to blind any traveller by foot or vehicle. The gale whips each flake, so pretty on its own, into a projectile that hurts unguarded skin. The sky above has none of the light that noon-time should have, so thick are the black clouds. And the sound, dear God, the sound, like one wind-chime taking the force these almost hurricane force winds. "Blizzard" hardly seems an adequate enough word for what the world outside has become.
Flakes pelt against frozen cheeks, cling to eyelashes and hair. Numbs exposed skin, pain in fingertips and toes, creates an exhausting chore to break
When the day is growing old and the hearth calls, the sun sinks down beneath the tops of the pines. The light streaks through the boughs in both brilliant and shadowy beams. In the summertime they were white gold, illuminating the greens into virescent riots; yet the gift of those warm days has passed for the season. On these wintry days the fogs cast those same beams of light into sepia tones and the woodland becomes the most beautiful of photographs. The trunks of fallen trees bare icicles longer than my hand, no two of them the same - more enchanting than any work of man. Every twig and blade of grass grows winter "leaves" of ice crystals,