secret series

it's a secret to everybody

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December 11, 2016 9:17pm
I totqlly forgot about writing the nomadic thing, oh its so beautiful, new forum signature right there.
"Roots starve in gravel, but the dust staves your hunger;
it works its way under your nails and laces itself in your bones.
the stars that watch over you now are strangers - but with time you'll know them, and they you, and
they'll take the compass in your breast pocket
and point it home." - Twiggy, Secret Series
December 11, 2016 10:28pm
Thank you very much.

You've actually inspired me to write similar works for my friends.
December 12, 2016 3:30am
@thekingofpillowland so glad I could surprise you ahaha!! Thank you so much <333

@Zeboracool you're very welcome! I'm honored you said so omg thanks!!
"Tu as des cheveux couleur d’or.
Alors ce sera merveilleux quand tu m’aura apprivoisé!
Le blé, qui est doré, me fera souvenir de toi.
Et j’aimerai le bruit du vent dans le blé…
"
December 18, 2016 9:58am
“what if the human race suddenly disappeared? like everyone on earth vanishes, leaving behind silent, empty streets and cities. And what if all but one person disappeared? What would that one person do?”

Her mother had always told her she could do more than the other kids, said it was in her blood. One day, as a small child, she had realized that she knew where her family was, and she knew that her brother was upset. She closed her eyes and saw them through the walls, familiar silhouettes glowing with shades of emotions.

Her mother had always told her not to worry, that she would steadfastly be by her side. The kids who were off-put by her could not hurt her. It was not their fault. Their subconscious was wary of her abilities, which she found grew stronger as she practiced with them. She grew adept at reading emotions and influencing outcomes, and left her originally discovered tracking ability to the side - she had not much use for it. With time, it was a strain to sense anything farther than a block long.

Her mother had always told her to work hard to improve all of her talents, for they were each hers for a purpose. Now she sat in the park near her apartment, the trees oblivious to her shuddering breaths. She closed her eyes and reached, straining her mind to find anyone, anything. She hit her limit and pushed further, ignoring the dull pain that was blossoming in her skull. There was nothing to be found.

Her mother had always told her to be brave. At all times, she pushed herself to look farther away. It was constant now; even with her eyes open she could feel herself expanding. Her temple beat in time with her heart as they both ached. She reached an impasse at the oceans - with nothing to anchor her sight to or orientate her progress towards, she was lost. She began pushing downwards instead. Slowly by steadily she progressed along the ocean’s floor, looking always up in the hopes that a boat like the one her father had taken her and her brother fishing on would tangle her in its anchor.

Her mother had always told her to appreciate the world around her. She watched the color of the leaves change, once, twice, three times. The ocean currents never really left her now, even when she had grasped their far beaches. Their perpetual oscillation helped, somewhat.

Her mother had always told her she was not alone. The oceans, she knew now, were much vaster than they looked on maps. When she knew for sure, she would go to the shore, to feel the changing tides with her physical self as she had seen them with her vision. In the spring of the fourth year, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The world spread beneath her, and she dug her fingers into the soil and willed for it not to be bone. Something staggered in her, and her vision blackened. She was empty - even her hope could not endure in the face of the findings of her solitary torture.

She could not remember her mother’s voice, nor her own. The grey water stretched before her, endless.
"Tu as des cheveux couleur d’or.
Alors ce sera merveilleux quand tu m’aura apprivoisé!
Le blé, qui est doré, me fera souvenir de toi.
Et j’aimerai le bruit du vent dans le blé…
"
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