Tuesday, January 6

Shackles of the Gardian

Art via pinterest.

Fingers dripping with the dew of an unshattered sky; crimson blossoms from the darkness hollowing his chest, darkening his pallor unevenly. Marbled lips part, an exhale of blackened smoke clouds the air, casting his features in obscurity.
   A wolf, she told me long ago. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. I knew she was right, yet in blindness, I smashed the mirrors lining my haven so I couldn't see. So that with time I could forget those memories, and simmer in the heat from what I felt within.
   He haunts me now. In my dreams; in the newly erected mirrors I've set within my marble palace. Vapors from his past still linger, the dark fumes which escaped his lips, pressing slowly into me; like a drug. Slowing my heartbeat, and sickening my mind.
   He's here, all around me. I feel it in the walls, I see it in the imprints left between the roses silently dripping from the balustrade like ruby blood.
   My haven is not a home; it is a tomb.
   His tomb; and I the guardian.


  1. Love this! I like your writing style. Makes me want to get back into story-writing myself!

  2. Good story but 1st paragraph leave off

  3. Everything you write gives me the best shivers {weirdest compliment so I hope you don't mind ;}. This story was just so lovely.


  4. You're such a beautiful writer!
    Love your blog <3

  5. Wow. Just wow. That was intense! Lovely, lovely job xx.

  6. I could feel the intenseness of this right off the start! Whoa!

    xoxo Morning


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