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The Man From The Fireplace III(Warning: this love story has no sexual inuendo in it what so ever.)
Jacq turned her attention reluctantly away from Otto and over to her mother, "what do you need me to to do, Mom?"
Her mother was washing some celery in the sink, "oh Honey, can you please chop these up for me?" she handed the vegitables over to Jacq who took them and dug around in the cupboard for a cutting board and took a knife off the wall. "So Mom where's Kyle?"
"He's in the dining room, setting the table, he woke up two hours before you did but you were too distracted to notice," Jacq's mom smiled slyly over at her daughter.
Jacq raised an eyebrow in the direction of her parent, "oh ha ha very funny. Yes I'm destracted, but can you blame me? I mean have you seen him?"
Jacq's mom chuckled and was about to say something when a loud crash in the livingroom stopped her. Jacq and her mom went running into the room, alarmed. When they got there, a frightening sight met their eyes. the suit of armor that had been a stat
The Man From The Fireplace II(Warning this love story has no sexual innuendo in it what so ever)
As Jacqline watched the sky was painted with brilliant colors that danced across the clouds. She thought about how all of her past relationships ended in horrible failure, how all the men shed ever dated, and it wasnt a long list, had gotten bored with her, or worse yet, admitted that they had only gone out with her out of pity. She sighed and looked forlornly up at the clouds. Surely this magically knowledgeable gentleman would not be entertained for long. Magic! Jacqline berated herself for considering its existence even for a second.
Part of her, a big part, wanted all of it to be true; the magic, Ottos interest in her. But she just couldnt ignore the reasonable side of herself that tried to convince her that she was dreaming. Maybe it was all a dream, Jacqline thought. That at least would make sense. Or maybe she was dead and the afterlife was just one big hallucination with no real substanc
The Man From The Fireplace I(Warning: this love story has no sexual innuendo in it what so ever.)
The autumn air was crisp, and the sound of the dead leaves rustling on the branches of the walnut tree greeted Jacqline as she walked across the front yard to her mothers door. Jacqline was thirty four years old and unmarried, which was a heinous failure in her mothers eyes. Remembering this, Jacqline hesitated when she lifted a fist to knock on the door. The thought of one more thanksgiving dinner spent listening to all her relatives nag about how she was getting too old to date was almost enough to make her jump back into her car and drive the three hundred miles back home.
Jacqline clenched her jaw and strengthened her resolve before she soundly slammed her fist against the solid oak door. A few moments later the door swung wide open and Jacqline was greeted with the smiling face of her younger brother, Kyle.
Hey youre just in time. Moms got some new wooden statues and shes sett
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More