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Yroc
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PostSubject: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeFri Sep 19, 2008 3:37 am

Post them here and get feedback.
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Yroc
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeFri Sep 26, 2008 2:53 am

No one else seems to really be posting, so I'll start.

Cliff:

Falling freely,

No one sees me,

Finally it can be,

Nice to feel the breeze.


Crashing waves,

Fine white mist,

It's all clean,

The air smells like the sea.



Everything,

Flashing by,

going past


before
I
can see


Now I can

hear nothing

wind whipping past

my ears and hair


Nothing to regret...
Wait!
Stop!
Fear,
Take it back,
Can't stop


Suddenly,
All is cold.
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Shelby
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeSun Nov 02, 2008 9:13 pm

Yroc wrote:
No one else seems to really be posting, so I'll start.

Cliff:

Falling freely,

No one sees me,

Finally it can be,

Nice to feel the breeze.


Crashing waves,

Fine white mist,

It's all clean,

The air smells like the sea.



Everything,

Flashing by,

going past


before
I
can see


Now I can

hear nothing

wind whipping past

my ears and hair


Nothing to regret...
Wait!
Stop!
Fear,
Take it back,
Can't stop


Suddenly,
All is cold.

wow that's somewhat depressing but really good o;
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The one who speaks
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PostSubject: Warning, it's long for a short story lol   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeMon Nov 03, 2008 5:34 am

I suppose the first time I ever really started to hate the sight of blood was when I first actually saw it. It was in elementary school when I was handing out papers and I saw someone trip and fall outside... Blood is so much darker than people realize. If you ever just watch it flow-- not really flow, it's more like a drip. A slow, sticky drip as it clings to the small hairs on your body. If you watch closely, long enough, you can almost see the pain and feel your skin tingle at the exact spot you see the injury on someone else. You feel the need to place your hand there, to restrict the feeling of it-- to bring you back to reality. But I watched it.
I came outside with the teacher and was in front of most of the students charging out of the room. Flocking to see blood, gathering to see something interesting, different. And there the small boy was, on his rump with his injured knee popped up for all to see, the other leg limp- unimportant, at his side. His face was strained, red, and twisted into an unappealing expression of slight pain. Even if the pain was only slight he was balling, screaming and sobbing at the top of his lungs. His fingertips on the outside of his kneecap and trembled tentatively. It was all a very dramatic scene, and most of the class either stared oddly at his crying or made a face, imagining the pain, becoming flustered. However, I was silent, watching the wound. At first it was a pure sheen of white, a ditch in the skin made of fat, then dewdrops of blood billowed, grew and thickened. Starting as tiny red dots the size of pin pricks until the ditch was filled with blood. I expected the blood to flow over since it had filled hastily. However it remained that puddle for what seemed to be a long time.
The teacher sent a student to go to the Nurse to fetch a band aid so they could patch it up before the boy would be asked if he wanted to be sent home. She kneeled down, balancing her weight heavily on one leg, the end of her long skirt laying on the grass. She said soothing, strong words. However they didn't seem to affect the boy, seeming to cry harder as she reassuringly rubbed his back. He didn't look at her, hunching over so his lowered, hot face was harder to see. The poor boy, he must've been ashamed. The teacher then told everyone to go inside, almost angrily. The class headed in almost immediately, mutterings and giggles started about as soon as their backs turned. I was still there, staring at the wound, not uttering a word. The teacher singled me out, calling my name and ordering me to go inside. But I stayed.
I was waiting. Your heart beats an average 54 times per minute moving a recycled 12 pints of blood continuously throughout your body. And now that there was a hole the blood would be attracted to the decrease in pressure and those 54 beats would then pump the blood out. I still waited. Not only that but the cut was at an angle, the slant of his knee cap. Then it happened, right as the girl the teacher sent had returned with the bandage and the boy was trying to stifle his sobs. Sniffing back his mucus as saliva began to coat his chin. A thin sheet, barely staining his leg, flowed over the ditch and traced halfway down his leg. It was fast, the drop of his blood. The drop was fast and dark, the evidence of his pain. My lids drooped; I couldn't stop staring at it. It was so... captivating.
My lips parted, mouth gaping. I leaned down, resting a knee on the itchy grass. But the scratch of the blades didn't tempt to relieve me of my concentration. I reached for the wound, the tips of my fingers resting tentatively just below it. I could feel the heat of his blood, my tips wet, sleek. The boy jerked away, screaming as if I had hurt him. My teacher yelled at me, placing her hand in between us. Blocking my 'onslaught'. However, I didn't look at her agitated face, the boy's red, sobbing mug or the girl's confused, almost disgusted expression. I was looking at the wet substance on my fingers. It looked darker in the center than on the edges where the viscosity was lighter. There was only blood on my index, middle, and ring finger, my longest fingers. On the middle and index fingers where the drops of blood were the thickest they began to run. Dripping halfway down my fingers until the trail was weakened to the point it stopped flowing.
I then realized something and my hand began to shudder and eyes widen. As an impressionable kid I was sensitive to the fact I had conjured. This wasn't my blood; it belonged to someone else. It was the fluid that gave them life; it was the life of someone else. It flowed throughout their body. And in those three tiny drops of blood I had, in a way, touched his lungs, his heart... his brain. And even further in its composition the waste it was carrying out of the body: urine, carbon gas, and bacteria. My pallet dried and tightened. This wasn't me; it was someone else, it was all someone else. Yet how could something so complex, so dirty as blood possibly be able to keep humans alive? I was overwhelmed. So I cried. (Shiz that was long, sorry x.x)
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Ovan Tiasco
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeMon Nov 03, 2008 6:08 pm

"As a Child Unto a Mirror" - Me

Childish thoughts, and Childish dreams. Childish goals, and Childish things...
this Childish mentality clouds my mind, and soon I will refrain from this Childish crying...


"Sanity Straitjacket" - Me

Dare you question my standing? My justice?
Unruly, old fools filled with florescent dreams,
Inept are thy seasons thrusting concrete slabs of hope,
To further justify such plastic miracles through your organs.
Sickly, Red pale.
Your vomit is of no consequence at all...

Chains like a weight of a cross! Subtly bearable!
Demonstrating demons dashing to their demise,
And finding the suffering a safe to our thoughts,
Which wreak havoc on the nefarious, robotic utopia.
Lies, and Beliefs.
Circulating in the lobes, creating official power...

I will eat your organs. Eat your Dreams.
Rip open your heads to digest the ideals of the gods you call yourselves,
Let the stomach acid pour down your esophagus, Truth down your spine.
Have every sense in your body experience what you will, what you had done.
Strapped down the sanity.
Creating Hell itself, to defeat your Heaven.

Your spine never tasted as good.
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Jason
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeTue Nov 04, 2008 3:47 am

It's rarely ever sunny here,
Never really has been.
So many tall buildings
Devoid of color
Devoid of life.
I wander these cracked streets
Looking for someone,
Someone who won't judge me hatefully.
The rain begins
I hide in the old ruins of home.
My clothes only rags
Everyone sees these...
Seeing me as having no worth.
Wait! What is that out there?
Is the sun poking out?
Who is that, walking this way?
Another liar?
Another to hate me for living?
Or will they find some worth?
Only time will tell,
This small child hopes for comfort.

___________________________________
This is how I felt before and the few days after meeting my now best friend.
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Isaku
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeTue Nov 04, 2008 7:07 am

Jason wrote:
It's rarely ever sunny here,
Never really has been.
So many tall buildings
Devoid of color
Devoid of life.
I wander these cracked streets
Looking for someone,
Someone who won't judge me hatefully.
The rain begins
I hide in the old ruins of home.
My clothes only rags
Everyone sees these...
Seeing me as having no worth.
Wait! What is that out there?
Is the sun poking out?
Who is that, walking this way?
Another liar?
Another to hate me for living?
Or will they find some worth?
Only time will tell,
This small child hopes for comfort.

___________________________________
This is how I felt before and the few days after meeting my now best friend.
:3
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Ovan Tiasco
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Age : 28
Location : Temecula, CA

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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeSun Nov 30, 2008 11:17 am

"Poetic Canvas"

I want to reimburse
In free verse,
To construct a rhyme
Composed of lines,
Describing a disease,
A wonderful death,
A slow symbiotic savage sacrifice,
To convey something...
Something unbeknown to language,
Perhaps and idea, perhaps an experience,
But, one that has left the world unchanged.

Its a perfect balance between despair and happiness,
It melts away fears and creates entirely new ones,
Transportation to a new world yet with so much to learn,
As the seasons meld together, radiating every spectrum of color,
It takes years to describe yet one kiss will enlighten you,
The words “body and soul” are now replaced with “heart”,
So vague yet specific

Ai by the Japanese
Amour by the French
Amore by the Italians
Amor by the Spanish

“A” being first of all twenty-six,
A deserving position,
One can call it evolution, nirvana, balance, sickness, good, evil, useless, beneficial, magical, or terrifying.

But, just this moment
I think I'll be passive and ignore all the definitions,
Let my guard down,
Knowing of my vulnerability,
Not to prove myself right,
Or to prove the opposition wrong,
Open myself up to everything that comes my way,
Simply smiling and accepting these rolling tears,
Streaming down this rosy trail.

The sound of strings plays on mine,
This faulty theory of wanting things to remain the same forever,
Has left me at last... Finally.
We grow with the ruthless passing time who never slows down for us,
Even if we drop our books or things and need help picking them up,
Time waits for no one.
And I am grateful.
Since, this sudden thirst for writing a simple, pathetic, beautiful idea on paper has pried something that only I will understand. Temporary clarity of a callous mind.

With this poem I now leave my childhood behind, and now begin anew.
Adulthood, which I had always feared, approaches me gently,
I take its hand,
trembling,
not knowing what to do now,
and take my first steps, as if I'm crawling.
This new stage is a new chapter,
New opportunities, and new stories to tell,
and as the old one is closing, I grimace with overwhelming love,
And cry to the sounds of the heartstrings which tell me I could've done better,
And how proud of they are of me.
Even right now I am crying to share this,
Cause I'm am both terrified and excited.
Like a perfect balance.

This emotion is not sad,
nor melancholic,
nor depression,
but a full satisfaction of what I now obtain.
Of what I've always had.
Unconditional affection of all those around me,
Boundless support, unbelievable willingness to help.
Striking a chord within me,
Resonating my very foundation,
Echoing in my thoughts.

This Music.

Is a ballad of change,
Conducted my myself,
And performed by the orchestra of all the hearts that I have come across.

Thank you.
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Isaku
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeWed Dec 03, 2008 9:30 am

-All Alone-

I once left the light and went to the darkness on my own free will.
I tried to see the sides but got sucked in the the pleasure of being able to do what
I could. I left it and choose to
stay away from any side.
Now I'm alone and with no beside me
but my dead body.

I live on. I live on in the twilight.
The place
Where nothing is good or bad.
It is niether light or dark.
Everything Fair is foul and
Everything foul is fair. Nothing
Left to do but shiver cold and
Die again all alone.

Life in light was too perfect.
There, Me in my dying
Dreams and my dreams in which
I die was the best I
Ever had. I left to go the
Darkness on my own free will.
Never to return back.

I left the
Darkness by the torture and
By the many times I failed to
Fufill the dreams. As life
Went by, it became more painful.
I felt all emotions
Except. Being alone. I left to
Try and feel how it felt.
Ended up falling into an
Endless pit of agony.

Now I stand
Here by my dead body, mind, and spirit.
All alone with
Nothing left and no where to go.
Dying alone in this bitter agony called home.

My dreams in which I die are good to me.
Yet here I am. Still living.
Dying alone is something I wish for.
Agony is pain caused to me over and over.
Yet here I am. Still living.
Of this time, My day of disaster.
Farther and farther I am from my dream,
Dying alone is something I wish for.
It is done. My time is up.
So gone with the wind, I am left dying alone.
Again, I ask over and over,
So did I deserve getting my wish? Suffering pain,
Tortured agony, I am left here. Dying alone in this
Ever lasting nightmare called My life.
Rest in peace. Here I lay dead alone.

I died a death but stayed alive
In phantom's likeness I survive
Alive, yet dead, I walk alone
In rooms with walls as cold as stone

I lived a life and dreamed a dream
And loved the life you lived with me
Then in the whisper of a breath
You left, and then I died a death

Though dead I live, I cannot part
From love that lives within my heart
Within my sorrow I must strive
To keep my hope and faith alive

For all the love that I would give
I surely would prefer to live
To be content, not to survive
But feel my spirit come alive

You slowly took your final breath
'Twas me, my dear, who died a death

Few there are to walk beside you
Through the valley of tears and sorrow.
More the times, you walk alone,
Than the times that they befriend.

Lonely is the journey there
And dark the jagged painful path.
Your tears they flow upon the stones
That rip away the bloodied flesh.

The light ahead, it slowly dims
As deeper down the path sojourns.
To hold a hand along the way
Might keep the feet upright that stumble.

Alone you see this path that ends;
Beyond the valley, a light, it glows
With angels guiding as you walk;
Last mile of life not walked alone.
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Shirosaki
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeWed Dec 10, 2008 6:26 am

-Promises-


Something's waiting on the other side of the door
As soon as I realized that, I looked up to the blue sky
I know the reason for the bittersweet feeling
Within my heart and it makes my heart waver

The promises from my childhood are
A precious dream, so I won't forget

The timbre of the harmonica against my lips
Riding on the winds, twining around my fingertips

I'll keep thinking only of you
Someday I'm sure we'll meet again with a smile

Searching for something, longing for something
Though I stretch out my arms, I can't reach the sky
Unable to simply believe
I stop myself from taking a step forward and look into the distance

Every day I'm afraid of getting hurt
Someday that will change

Your smile and your gestures
Are so precious to me, my tears spill over

This unchanging city, this brilliant scenery
I want to protect them forever

The seeds of the wind dance on my palm
Because I know true strength

Overcome sorrow and run with resounding courage
I'll surely reach the future!


^-^
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Isaku
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeFri Dec 12, 2008 1:16 am

Sorrowful Depression....

Alone in the Dark...
Unheard for a simple mistake...
Let myself try to be known
Only to know I am shuned...


Society no longer needs me...
Wiether to live or die...
I don't know...
A fear I hated...
A fear I despised...
Warnings unheard...
Warnings undesired...
A warning of a mistake...
A mistake that affects someone...
Someone you love so much...

I warned her about it...
She didn't care...
Now..
I pay a price I never wanted...
A price of loneliness....
A price of frustration...
A price of sorrow...

None are desired...
All are despised...
Yet..
One mistake and brought upon me..
a unbearable pain...
A pain that gives me no chance...
no chance of living...

Now I lay here...
I wonder where I've gone wrong...
I Wonder what happened here?
What has happened to this place?
What Has happned to this refuge?
This home?
This home of happiness that I enjoy so?

The Smile I dreamed...
The Smile I love...
THe Smile I adore...
It has vanished...
Vanished like it has become...
Extinct...

Oh How I miss that smile...
That laughter...
That expression of joy...
It made me very happy...
But It is no longer there...

I would do anything to bring it back...
Anything...
This is my Sorrowful Depression...


_____________________________________
Literally...This came out of the top of my head just now...
This is based of how I feel...right now...
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Jason
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeWed Jan 07, 2009 11:19 pm

Caught in the middle

Yet another war has erupted
A war between the two greats.
They each mourn their own casualties
But I am left in the middle,
Belonging to neither side.
They do not care for me,
They simply kill each other,
Not caring for the forgotten child.
Trapped in the middle...
Where's my hope?
Where's my salvation?
Their battlefield is my home
They break and steal
With no regrets,
They hurt me if I try,
Try to stop them.
They have their heroes,
Where's mine?
Why don't they care?
If I die,
They won't care
If I am hurt,
They won't help
If I am crying,
They won't dry my tears.
In fact
Why would they care?
They are too busy,
Too busy killing each other.
Why take care of a child with no side?
They aren't heroes,
Not in my eyes.
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Shirosaki
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeSun Jan 11, 2009 11:22 pm

feel on the wind

If you climb a hill in the expanding world,
Where will all the clouds go?
In the same way as forming a smile, or making myself cry
I can change my form,
as always in my life, my sorrow...
is the only cloud not lost from my heart,
Can you see into the future?
It's now like a flower being lightly blown by the wind,
Believing that you are close to me,
I want to confirm it together,
with the warmth of our connected hands
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Isaku
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeSun Jan 25, 2009 2:36 am

Why?...

These thoughts...
These feelings...
They hurt...
They hurt so much...
This pain in my heart...
This gut feeling...
I don't want to trust it...
I don't want to believe it...
I don't want to know...
The pain of it may be more then...
More then anything i could ask for...
I don't want to suffer...
Not again...
I don't want to be in that pit of darkness...
I don't want to be left out of this world...
I dont want to be alone...
These accusations...
That my body are making...
Where are they coming from...
What is the reason for it?
I don't know myself...
I don't wish to know...
Is it really happening?
Will ever happen?
Or will it all be a lie.
All I hope is that it is just a lie...
A illusion...
A fraction of my imagination...
Yet...
Something deep inside...
It tells me it's not...
To trust it and move on...
I don't...
I don't want to trust it...
No matter how many times it's been right...
I just want to believe it...
I trust her...
But does she trust me?...
I don't want her to go...
I don't know what may happen...
If...
She was gone...
but...
What is the reason for this...
Why?...
Why?...
Why?...
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Isaku
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry/ Short stories   Poetry/ Short stories Icon_minitimeSat Nov 07, 2009 1:20 am

Feathers of the Winged One
“Apollo, get over here and back me up! I could use a little help here!” I heard a voice cry out to me. I immediately recognized the voice without one bit of trouble. However, while my attention had been averted, I was ambushed by a demon. Once I had noticed the demon’s presence near me, I quickly slashed it and killed it in one blow.
“Ah! Don’t worry, Sophia! I’m coming!” I yelled out as I had continued to slash at all of the opposing demons that had begun to head my way. One by one, I killed the demons; and, soon, I decided to run for Sophia. For every single demon that had come into my line of sight, I killed with my sword. My sword may not be a fancy weapon, such as those most people think a hero should wield, it was still quite durable and well balanced for me. Eventually, after running for about a minute or two, I had arrived at Sophia. During that short amount of time, I had bit much left in me… I knew I had to catch my breath and rest. But I decided that I had no choice. I had to save Sophia from the demons that were troubling her. Once I had rested for a bit, I moved closer and saw that Sophia had became unconscious. Uh oh! Sophia isn’t conscious! I have to help her…and now! I thought as I picked up a handful of rocks and threw them as hard as I could at the demons. I was hoping to draw their attention from Sophia to me. Thankfully, my plan had successfully worked! However… after the demons started to walk towards me, I began to panic a bit, mainly because I could not do much else at this point. I feared that the demons were going to kill me. I quickly put my arms up as defense against any possible attacks from the demons. Before I knew it, however, the demons suddenly fell to the ground, dead. Behind them was a man wearing a long purple robe. It was Abel who had saved me.
“Humph. That’s the last of those maggots,” Abel said as he walked to me. His claws were dripping in the demon’s blood. His sword, which was really just a normal katana, had been the same, which showed he didn’t care much for the demons, despite the fact he was one himself. As the crimson liquid fell to the ground, Abel looked at his weapons and saw just how much blood there was on him. He swiftly swung them forcefully in the air to remove the blood that had stained his gear.
“Right, Thanks for the help, Abel,” I said as I walked towards Sophia. I lifted her head up, and spoke to her once more. “Hey…Sophia, wake up. The demons are finished.” I kept attempting to wake her up, and surely enough, her eyes began to open ever so slowly.
“A-Apollo…?” She spoke as she finally awoke, “What happened… to the demons…?”
“Don’t worry about the demons. Abel finished off the last of them. The war might finally be over,” I said to her as I helped her stand to her feet. Once she stood, an earthquake occurred. I quickly braced myself and Sophia as the tremor continued. After the earthquake stopped, I looked around the forest and saw something that caught my attention. It was the last of the demons, which happened to be a titan. “This is it! The final demon!” I yelled out as a small pair of wings suddenly sprouted from my back. At this moment, Sophia was the only one to notice it, from the look on her face, she was the only one seeing it behind me. I tightly grasped my sword and charged towards the titan as fast as I could. As time sped up, my wings grew larger and larger with every passing second.
“this looks like it has some bit of a promising challenge,” Abel said as he laughed with a murderous intent. He grasped his katana and quickly charged at the forty-foot-tall titan. As Abel moved closer and closer, he nimbly dodged ever stomp the titan had produced in trying to kill Abel. None seemed successful. As usual, Abel seemed to slash away at the titan at his own amusement.
“Here I go!” I yelled as I started to fly. My wings had grown to what was considered an average size. I managed to dodge every strike the titan had sent my way with ease as I soon arrived at the titan’s head. I climbed to the top of his crown and once I was there, I yelled out a furious battle cry as I pierced the skull. The titan gave out a deafening scream as the pain seemed too much for it to bear. I repeatedly pierced his head with my sword, which had began to crack, over and over in different spots of the cranium. Soon, the titan fell to the ground, which caused a tremendous earthquake. The earthquake destroyed the forest and left nothing, other the corpse and us. I opened my eyes and saw the titan below me. It was dead from the looks of it, seeing as it was not moving. I glided my way down the top of the head. As I glided down, feathers from my wings had begun to fall as they slowly retracted into my back. Sophia stared with awe at the sight. As she did, I noticed one of my feathers landed in her outstretched hand. It was a white feather that was surrounded by a comforting and elegant white glow.
“This war is finally over…” I said as I looked around. My name is Apollo. I am what some would call a winged one, an angel in other words. My race was killed off by the demons. Abel, who was a demon, and Sophia, who was a human, helped me get my revenge. Now, Sophia held a feather of a winged one, the last of them is what I am. I may have finished this war, but revenge has left me with nothing. Finally, my vengeance is now complete…
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