Embrace --x

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A fanciful fiction. Maybe a tad confusing. I shall sort some of it out: A body is dreaming, dreaming of a paradise and then just as suddenly as it had come it disappears. Torn from the creature's very grasp. Hence sorrow overwhelmes, as would it would most, and a depressing state occurs.

Submitted: March 14, 2008

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Submitted: March 14, 2008

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Sunlight's streaming, dewdrops trickling, and a body's dreaming. A being combed through the outlands, searching for what was in. Consumed in her realm of slumbering tranquility. She was a witnesser of utter beauty. A beholder of the earth's very own creation. Nothing more striking could oppose this sign, this vision, this wanted life. Nothing could oppose indeed the object, but it could be destroy, ripped away, annihilated. A piercing scream struck the peaceful atmosphere. Caused by none other than the mass that consumed the open space. No, so close, so very close, but life was cruel. Paradise within fingertip reach, inches was the distance that could have been eaten away, but this world was not a sweet one. Not her choice of life, not her choice at all. In this trial she had no evidence at all, no rights to be victimized by, no liberties to cherish. She had not even the right to forsake her dreams.  The rippling ribbon of thought she had withheld had been severed, no longer a bubbling brook, no longer a lively infant, or  a frisky creature. It was, as they all were, nothing. Just an object, an object consented, to destruction. A thing having one purpose. One reason, one factor to base it's very existence off of. Was that really living, but once again. Define living. Stop now, go no further. Seek something that should never be sought. A being, an animal, any lifeform, any out of these had a chance, a small shed of hope. Something to help them remain sane, in their right senses. Once again, who's to say we're not all insane?To every supposed fact, there is always a question, an idea that can disprove, an dislodge it. What is the truth, a lie, an opinion. Now that is a solid speeching. Dimishing faith splendored not to what daylight brang. Lashes need not flutter and structure gave no heed. Only one thing signalling the essence of the creature. Or was that just a trick of the sly wind? Pry deepr into the sanction, the lair of the beast. In the highets of aspects. Maybe she had gotten a break. A stroke of pure luck. Fortune might have shone kindess to this one, and allowed her to become the deceased figures we all were.The passing of a life , happening without pain, suffering, or a knowing mind was wishful thinking. A fancy of the foolish and dim.


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