Weapons-

Please include every member's weapon of choice in their profile page, Thalia :D

(Almost) Ghosts

An Introspective Moment:

I’ve never thought it was possible for dreams to be tailored to the dreamer.

Let me make this clear – the subconscious cannot zero in on our innermost feelings of hope and fear.

Even if you’re someone like

One of us

It just doesn’t happen.

At the start of it all,

(everything, not the dream)

The first question I asked:

‘Do you believe in freak coincidences?’

I don’t remember what the answer was.

But like I once said,

there are times when my problems all seem.. connected.

Even if those times are only

In

My

Nightmares.

~  *  ~

If you’re looking for symbolism, you’ll find plenty of it.

This takes place in a library (1)

With me taking care of the little ones. (2)

3: I’m interrupted by doctors.

It’s ironic because usually they interrupt by not interfering.

~  *  ~

“The good news is you’re not insane.”

“That is good news.” I say.

We assume that these guys have been stalking me because they have extensive knowledge of my personal history; what I wouldn’t normally feel at liberty to disclose.

(there are some things you just can’t tell people)

Those things = that statement.

Quite frankly I’m amazed the doctors are still, well.. alive.

“But you’re not completely alright.”

“Wow, are you a genius?”

I stand on my toes and scan the room for an exit.

~  *  ~

About a year ago I had a conversation with someone who I had no doubt was mad.

Just like now, I was trying to leave and he let me get all the way to the door before saying something that gave me no choice but to stop in my tracks.

Everything that happened in those few minutes parallels these ones,

Down to what the doctors say:

“You’re probably dying.”

I stop, of course.

Though this is me, so I’m not as concerned.

(but I think of him)

When I ask why, a woman begins to explain

but is cut off as the doctors begin debating amongst themselves.

“That’s not right! If this happens-”

“No but that will cause this!”

“What if this thing here doesn’t happen?”

The discussion quickly becomes unintelligible.

As I don’t understand a word they’re saying, I consider tuning them out.

But I notice

When they start throwing around

The word

Spiders.

~  *  ~

Something that strikes me as funny:

I used spiders to try and explain His insanity before.

(the not-yet Omniscient Gentleman, I mean)

In one variation of what happened

he started seeing them

in the months beforehand.

Everywhere.

Small at first,

then increasing in size

until they were almost

as tall as he was.

Giant.

She

(the not-yet Wandering Girl)

would walk into a room

smiling

and

chattering away

and they would skitter over to her.

They wrapped their dark, oversized feelers around her legs

like omens

and he

just watched.

Watched,

Knowing she had no idea

They were there.

~  *  ~

So there it is.

Those are the facts.

Facts and coincidences.

Ones that can be explained and ones that can’t.

All threaded together

with their dream-logic.

And the reality I’m stuck with

once the dream disappears

leaving me alone with my
(almost) ghosts.

Nanatsu no Ko

Nana's Song

烏 なぜ啼くの 

(Mother crow, why do you squawk so?)

烏は山に 

(Because high on the mountain)

可愛い七つの

子があるからよ

(I have seven cute children.)

-

可愛 可愛と

("Cute, cute,")

烏は啼くの

(This mother crow sings)

可愛　可愛と

("Cute, cute,")

啼くんだよ

(Cries the mother crow)

山の古巣へ

(You should behold the old nest)

言って見て御覧

(On the mountain. There you'll see such)

丸い眼をした

いい子だよ

(Round-eyed, good children.)

Similes

Sometimes people

make the weirdest

similes

these days.

Things break.

Toys break.

People break.

Abused, torn,

stuffed animals,

dolls;

gaping cracks

down their sides,

with these

ironic

smiles

still plastered

on their face.

Beckett,

six years old,

standing at the

top

of the

staircase,

arms spread wide.

Still a child.

And red.

Blurred colours,

that

I

can't see;

too much

blood

in my eyes.

I was thinking;

'Good,

at least

he won't hurt

his own-

Oh wait.’

Sand brown hair,

shaking,

solemn, terrified, defiance.

One rake like grip

on his shoulder

is all it takes.

What I

remember most-

Our identical

wide,

panicked eyes.

My

slow reflexes.

His

expression,

as he's flung

literally across the room,

disappearing

into the darkness.

A single

sickening

CRACK!

from

the

foot

of the stairs.

Silence.

Things break.

Toys break.

People break.

How

is it possible?

To compare

living

beings

with those

abandoned, broken

stitches of fabric,

left

in a

corner.

Like I said;

sometimes,

people make

the weirdest similes,

these days.

And they're

usually

just

not

true.

Thalia attempts rhyming poetry.

My name is Violetpaw,

I am a cat,

also human,

but cats beat that! ^^

My hair is silver,

but mostly black,

they change a lot,

and I can't keep track (OTL)

I have some foes,

they're really insane,

they try TO KILL ME,

like U2E A. >.<

I must admit,

he has some class,

too bad for him,

that I kick %#$! ~