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Literature Text
Now is now.
Kaylin is stepping off the Light Train. It's dark and the dry wind scratches at her face. It's the one place that doesn't come to mind when you think of New Year's Eve.
In front of her blooms a different kind of darkness. It's wet and humid. She turns around and Darus is there.
"This is it," he says. "The final gate. The last trial." He spreads his arms, and the wet warm dark spreads out and presses against her dark. He pulls his sword out of the scabbard. Kaylin stands in front of him, tensed to run.
"Running again?" He flourishes his sword. It's giving him an unfair advantage. The sword disappears.
"You should sacrifice yourself now, if you want to win," he says. The fear in his voice is unmistakable. "A fair trade, one life for all, don't you think?"
"I don't want to die," Kaylin says. Her voice is strong and afraid. She closes her eyes, and opens them. A portal of light appears between them. They both blink.
"I didn't do that. You can't do that." Darus says.
"I did." She steps forward, and they're almost nose to nose, almost in the portal. "I didn't make it. I destroyed the dark."
"Sure you did," he scoffs. She steps forward, eyes wide open. He steps forward, and they're inside the portal, and she laughs, because it's all so clear. She reaches out and touches the dark, and it's gone. They're all part of the cycle, and she reaches out and Darus disappears, is inside her. She looks down and sees light, and she touches herself and is gone.
It's midnight. People shout "Happy New Year!" and kiss. A trail of light blows across the sky. Everything is different but no one feels it, except for one girl, sleeping, dreaming of a light that is excited and warm and asks her something.
"Kaylin," she replies.
Kaylin is stepping off the Light Train. It's dark and the dry wind scratches at her face. It's the one place that doesn't come to mind when you think of New Year's Eve.
In front of her blooms a different kind of darkness. It's wet and humid. She turns around and Darus is there.
"This is it," he says. "The final gate. The last trial." He spreads his arms, and the wet warm dark spreads out and presses against her dark. He pulls his sword out of the scabbard. Kaylin stands in front of him, tensed to run.
"Running again?" He flourishes his sword. It's giving him an unfair advantage. The sword disappears.
"You should sacrifice yourself now, if you want to win," he says. The fear in his voice is unmistakable. "A fair trade, one life for all, don't you think?"
"I don't want to die," Kaylin says. Her voice is strong and afraid. She closes her eyes, and opens them. A portal of light appears between them. They both blink.
"I didn't do that. You can't do that." Darus says.
"I did." She steps forward, and they're almost nose to nose, almost in the portal. "I didn't make it. I destroyed the dark."
"Sure you did," he scoffs. She steps forward, eyes wide open. He steps forward, and they're inside the portal, and she laughs, because it's all so clear. She reaches out and touches the dark, and it's gone. They're all part of the cycle, and she reaches out and Darus disappears, is inside her. She looks down and sees light, and she touches herself and is gone.
It's midnight. People shout "Happy New Year!" and kiss. A trail of light blows across the sky. Everything is different but no one feels it, except for one girl, sleeping, dreaming of a light that is excited and warm and asks her something.
"Kaylin," she replies.
Literature
On my way home
By Romy Lara
I exit the studio, sighing at the sight of the sun quietly hiding behind the trees and buildings. Turn to the right and keep walking. Cars are passing by, people in black suits get out from the nearest buildings; none of them care about their surroundings. I lift up my head and notice in big steel-letters the name of the company that owns that peculiar orange building in the corner of the street. It's the first time I see it. The sky is painted blue with some dabs of gray, just as if somehow the color of the concrete street had been absorbed by the clouds.
Behind me there's a couple discussing something about a house. She doesn
Literature
Of Half-Filled Words
She is not a flutterbird.
Her fingers are skittish,
her smile is not.
Do not fear that you will
drive it away.
Sadness is her fumbling limb.
It is unwanted, yet
necessary.
When it is January
she will tell you,
"I am still struggling.
And I am becoming so many people
all at once.
A conglomeration of beauty that
I have managed to mangle.
Please, do not be sad for me."
Sometimes her sorrow is
meant for you. But mostly her.
Those specks and spots
of ocean storm lulls
reveal her truths:
ones she does not want
to extract from herself.
Her heart is not a rabbit.
When it beats
faster, faster, faster,
you need not
run harder
Literature
To Us- Synesthesia
i.
every sound
excites a burst
of color; an
exploding
firework,
dancing and
twirling.
ii.
your voice
tastes of mangoes;
sticky
and sweet,
caressing my senses.
your flavor is
personal.
iii.
the letters
all become a
different personality.
"T" is crabby
and "I" worries.
"J" is strong
and mighty.
iv.
closer and
farther away;
each number becomes
its own plane
and point
in space;
perfect details.
v.
all the numbers
form lines
becoming an army
of curvy rows,
swirling round
and round.
a perfect pattern.
vi.
letters take
on colors,
each and every one
a different hue,
a different shade,
forming rainbo
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I wrote this for Odyssey Into 2012. I never realised it is so hard to write in 300 words! It's 320 instead. Hope it's good.
Edit: I can't believe this was chosen! Thank you!
Second Edit: I'm not used to so many comments to my work. So a general thank you to all.
Edit: I can't believe this was chosen! Thank you!
Second Edit: I'm not used to so many comments to my work. So a general thank you to all.
© 2011 - 2024 BookWormMK
Comments20
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A really fine end to the Odyssey. The last two sentences really made this work for me, and for many others, I'm sure. Thank you.