splash of silver }} moth
May 26, 2014 22:39:42 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on May 26, 2014 22:39:42 GMT -5
The moon shone at its brightest tonight, not even one cloud daring to pass over its shining light. The moon was almost like the sun, providing light for the people who live on the planet in which it orbits… But it is also a polar opposite of the sun. Where the sun has rays which a damaging, which are hot and burn and destroy, the moons rays are gentle, mysterious and almost healing. Where the sun was harsh to look at, burning its shape into the eyes of the onlooker, the moon was gentle allowing round eyes to take in its beautiful form. I preferred the moon, because just like the moon i was mysterious in so many different ways.
I was a Blackmore, but not just any Blackmore, I was the head of my family. People who knew about our secrets feared me, people who knew know better respected me for my family was one of the richest most respected families around. Like the Birch’s. As soon as the name touches my tongue I fill the urge to spit it out onto the ground. I hated the Birch’s and everything their name possessed. They were a pack of disappointing people, people who put my family to shame, people who claim to be powerful, to be strong but have always ending up perishing when blessed with the opportunity to prove themselves victorious when it came to the games. They were nothing but pretenders.
My feet make no sound on the grey pavement beneath me as I wider through the streets of the place that I called my home. I knew that at my house my family would be indulging in may sickly habits that were to make my stomach spin and and my head ache. I hated my family- wait, hate might not be a strong enough word. I tolerated them and there were the mere few that I actually liked, most of them made me sick. I was tempted to kick them all from my home, but I knew that I couldn't because all of them, even the filthy ones like Olivia, meant something to my mother and they were the last things that I had left to honour her. So I kept them, not matter how much they made me want to rip my own throat out, especially Logan.
He has always been the more rebellious one, deciding that speaking to against me would be a great idea. I am pretty sure that he might leave the house and it doesn't hurt me even one bit, in fact it excites me. I want him to leave, I don't need no rebellious child in my house, I need obedient ones, because in the end they were all my little puppets, and I was the master pulling the strings.
Fences, some as tall as the fence that surrounds your own house, some as short as your waist, grow around me, but I don't pay any attention to them, my eyes are focused on the field of green in front of me. It was not often that I came down to the park, the place where childhood memories are nothing but my mother yelling at me that I did that move wrong. I don't think I really ever got the same childhood as other children. My mother never let me have fun, after all I was her pride and joy, made into a cold hearted should at the age of six. I remember my father staring down at me, his smile warm and open… I think he wanted me to smile back, but all I did was pin him with cold eyes and lips that turned down at the corners. My mother praised me, my father backed away. It was a few years later when he left, not being able to handle how his children had turned out. We were monsters, I knew it, he knew it and think mother knew it to.
I reach the field, my eyes tang in the grass that spread out before me. The grass was a dark green, the moon’s light dancing of the shards in all different directions. I was beautiful to watch. Silence filled me, only to be allowed by the singing of many bugs dancing in the bushes that surrounded the field of green. With a smile I take a seat, the grass almost like a cushion. I lie down so that my back is against it, my eyes blinking up at the winking stars. It real was a beautiful night, a night that I would not waste by being locked up in my basement at home.
I was a Blackmore, but not just any Blackmore, I was the head of my family. People who knew about our secrets feared me, people who knew know better respected me for my family was one of the richest most respected families around. Like the Birch’s. As soon as the name touches my tongue I fill the urge to spit it out onto the ground. I hated the Birch’s and everything their name possessed. They were a pack of disappointing people, people who put my family to shame, people who claim to be powerful, to be strong but have always ending up perishing when blessed with the opportunity to prove themselves victorious when it came to the games. They were nothing but pretenders.
My feet make no sound on the grey pavement beneath me as I wider through the streets of the place that I called my home. I knew that at my house my family would be indulging in may sickly habits that were to make my stomach spin and and my head ache. I hated my family- wait, hate might not be a strong enough word. I tolerated them and there were the mere few that I actually liked, most of them made me sick. I was tempted to kick them all from my home, but I knew that I couldn't because all of them, even the filthy ones like Olivia, meant something to my mother and they were the last things that I had left to honour her. So I kept them, not matter how much they made me want to rip my own throat out, especially Logan.
He has always been the more rebellious one, deciding that speaking to against me would be a great idea. I am pretty sure that he might leave the house and it doesn't hurt me even one bit, in fact it excites me. I want him to leave, I don't need no rebellious child in my house, I need obedient ones, because in the end they were all my little puppets, and I was the master pulling the strings.
Fences, some as tall as the fence that surrounds your own house, some as short as your waist, grow around me, but I don't pay any attention to them, my eyes are focused on the field of green in front of me. It was not often that I came down to the park, the place where childhood memories are nothing but my mother yelling at me that I did that move wrong. I don't think I really ever got the same childhood as other children. My mother never let me have fun, after all I was her pride and joy, made into a cold hearted should at the age of six. I remember my father staring down at me, his smile warm and open… I think he wanted me to smile back, but all I did was pin him with cold eyes and lips that turned down at the corners. My mother praised me, my father backed away. It was a few years later when he left, not being able to handle how his children had turned out. We were monsters, I knew it, he knew it and think mother knew it to.
I reach the field, my eyes tang in the grass that spread out before me. The grass was a dark green, the moon’s light dancing of the shards in all different directions. I was beautiful to watch. Silence filled me, only to be allowed by the singing of many bugs dancing in the bushes that surrounded the field of green. With a smile I take a seat, the grass almost like a cushion. I lie down so that my back is against it, my eyes blinking up at the winking stars. It real was a beautiful night, a night that I would not waste by being locked up in my basement at home.
