Once upon a time there was a duck who yearned for the love of the prince and a knight who lived to protect that prince.
When she acquired the gift to turn into a girl,for ravens had begun to attack, her love for the prince grew even stronger.
The duck fought hard and valiantly for the prince alongside the knight.
But, in the end the prince married a raven.
In despair the girl turned back into a duck.
And the knight pledged to stay by her side forever.
But, was the duck a girl to begin with?
Was the knight just a simple serving girl?
Or was the truth a much more bloody tale…
A tale that could only end in tragedy.
‘I w
Once upon a time, there was a miller who had three sons and when that miller died each son received some form of inheritance. The eldest brother gained the mill, and the middle brother was given the mules, but the youngest brother was given a cat and he felt cheated. Little did he know that the feline was no ordinary cat, but one who wore a pair of boots. The cat worked hard for his Master and after some time he had made the youngest son rich beyond his wildest dreams and engaged to the princess of the land. But still...the cat wondered, "Will I ever win a bride for myself?"
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I did love
You did heartbreak
I did love
And you broke my heart,
Dirty carpet,
Crack pavement,
Didn't take much
To tear us apart,
Blackend sky,
To acid rain,
Ran for cover,
But you slammed the door,
When I see you,
Wooing hearts out,
I've just patched mine,
You've already broken more
When I see
Your cobalt eyes,
Trying to gauge
a reaction from mine
I know you,
Still miss me,
Want to hold me,
Baby just give me some
time.
Once upon a time, there was a writer. An aspiring writer, whose greatest wish was for his stories to come to life. He became obsessed with the idea, obsessed with the only man who had managed to do it. The man was long dead but he had left behind a character of his own. A person, the writer assumed, with parchment for skin and ink that moved through his veins, for that person had not been given heart of their own to pump blood through their body. The writer was delighted at the idea of making a living being that defied the laws of nature itself. He craved for the power and sunk deeper into his research. But soon the writer came to realize,
I feel frozen.
A pillar of thick clear ice surrounds my body in a cold cocoon.
Mimicking a loving mother's embrace.
But it's not my mother.
Because my mother is ahead of me; Screaming me forward.
But I can't move, not yet.
I'm still frozen, in this twilight zone of sorts.
Not going forward, but I sure as hell aren't going back.
But it feels that way.
That I'm leaning backward.
Because he is back there.
Behind me, with the charming smiles and heart-melting eyes.
With the comforting memories of warm grass and shining sun.
Melting my icy cavern.
Tempting me.
To just turn around and run.
Run into his flames.
Into his scalding em
Ah, the cliff. Here I am again old buddy. Your soft gravel stains my hands just like it always has. My feet still dangle easily over your edge. Cause there's nothing beneath me.
At least not for a mile.
You're a straight drop aren't you old pal. Straight as a board.
Straight as a fuckin' ruler.
Maybe, if you were more like me, we'd have a lot more to talk about. It would be a lot safer to be up here. There would be plenty of dips and rocks jutting out. Not straight at all.
You'd be just like your old friend Darrel.
Hey, I've been meaning to ask you...
Are you cheating on me buddy?
With some other poor sod?
Maybe he has de
Yellow,Parlor Blue,+ Greenery by Nelfan, literature
Literature
Yellow,Parlor Blue,+ Greenery
There was a time, when I would take that long journey up the worn graveled lane that wound all over the city every day. I would walk down that rough lane to the frayed yellow house on the edge of town. The custard paint peeling, the doors and windows creaking, and the moss growing along the side of the house.
The lady of the yellow house would greet me at the door with a smile; quickly followed by her pestering to the reason of my constant visits. I would return with a smile of my own as I battered off her asservations and ascend the stairs .To sit by his parlor blue bed.
His breaths were tail and his motions languid. But, his tongue was