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Innocent Soul Chapter 10Chapter Ten
It had only been a few minutes since Xia's battle with the killer. She had wondered what to make of her situation now that she was alone. The rock raft surface she was fighting on was giving signs of giving out. a segment finally separated, causing Xia to leap on the other part. Seeing she was safe for the moment, she took the time to examine her Grieve Edges.
"Oh no..." she said. "They're ruined. and i went to so much trouble to make them..." She looked out at the lava current. "And i don't know where this current wil take me. Nii-san, what was I thinking?"
The heat eventually made her dizzy and pass out. When she awoke, the lava had cooled into solid rock.
"Unh? How long was i unconscious?" She unstrapped her grieve edges and looked at them questionably, sighed and decided to keep them. She continued in the path the current was flowing before hardening.
"I wonder..." she said to herself. "Will
I ever see Manjyoume and aneki again?"
This Dream I HadThis dream I had in the beginning of summer was a very prominent one.
There was this one person. I could not tell who this person was, nor could I discern the gender. I'm saying this is a person because it's not me. Yet for some reason I experience the feelings and emotions this person experienced.
This person is stumbling through a clearing in the woods. I can feel this person's exhaustion. It is immense, as if I could drop any second. Eventually the person does fall on the ground. I feel the impact. As the person lays on the ground, one of the person's hands brushes against a flower. A single, white rose. I feel the flower's smooth petals on the back of my hand as it happened.
The next thing I experienced was when something appears to grab the person's arm. The presence was not there before, but as soon as the contact was made, the presence was there. The person turns to the presence. The source of the rpesence was an ethereal being, completely white. This spirit bore the semblance o
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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