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Literature

Discourse with the Devil

I offered Satan a piggy-back ride today. So up he hopped, and away we went for a walk, and I asked him all the questions I could think of. For how cruel is it to burden the Heavens with all my queries? There must be someone else to talk to. I speak with the Devil. He's bound to have some interesting stories. I ask, “What is love?” And he says “The blood of roses and thorns.” I ask, “Why is the sky blue?” And he says “Because its sadness is infinite.” I ask “Why did the chicken cross the road?” And he says “The crosswalk was painted only in its mind.” I continue to

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Literature

Duck and Cover- a short series of love notes

-Duck! -The animal? -Duck! -and cover? -Goose. -You are such a brat! -I miss you. -I wish you hadn't said that. -You wish upon every star that crosses your path. -You're not a star. You're a supernova. -Ha! I'm a speck of dust. One swept beneath your rug.

Literature

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Duck and Cover- a short series of love notes by prettyflour, literature

Literature

Duck and Cover- a short series of love notes

I should have hit escape by prettyflour, literature

Shooting Star by prettyflour, literature

Social Butterfly by prettyflour, literature

Letter to Edward by prettyflour, literature

Literature

Letter to Edward

On my eighteenth birthday I wished for eternal life but eighty nine years of living has taught me that you don’t always get what you wish for. I still remember you vividly. I remember you, Edward Cullen. I remember you with a clarity that is haunting. You are a secret that I carry. You are a tumultuous mixture and wonder and hurt. I try not to think about you and yet... I have to admit that I sometimes wondered about what might have been. Yes, I was curious about what became of you. I thought about where you might be. I’ve spent many a night, my longing gaze on the stars, wondering if you were out there somewhere looking at th

36 by prettyflour, literature

Literature

36

On every birthday I think back and reflect on all the years that I've lived. Today I am reflective on nothing in particular and everything all at once. I look at my daughter. I beam with pride at the young lady she has become. I can't help but stand in awe at how much she looks like, acts like and can hold a grudge just like me. I take my husband's hand and squeeze, waiting for his needle to work its magic. I want his art to be a part of me, now and forever more. I'm dazed but not confused. 36 is more than three decades which is kind of weird to think about when I feel so young. Childhood has been reborn in my offspring- my nieces and

she is a light in the dark by prettyflour, literature

again and again and again by prettyflour, literature

Literature

again and again and again

The cave seems to stretch on forever. Whitewashed with snow, covered with ice it's like a crystal palace. Sunlight dips in from the cracks in the ceiling, just enough light to see by. I walk carefully at first, the ground slick and uneven but impatience gets the best of me and I run- run until I'm out of breath and frustrated that I seem to be getting nowhere. I curse when I slip and fall, spinning wildly and landing hard. I huff out a laugh when I open my eyes- I've broken a piece of the wall and can see outside the cave- a shock of color beyond the white. I rise and step into the daylight, follow a path of vibrant green vines- they are cr

breathless by prettyflour, literature

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