tales were first told with a tune

@ScrawledSongs

Very short stories. Taken from a mysterious canister buried in the desert, or written by a tired creature driven by a muse. Take your pick!

riding the hollow desert winds
Vrijeme pridruživanja: prosinac 2018.

Tweetovi

Blokirali ste korisnika/cu @ScrawledSongs

Jeste li sigurni da želite vidjeti te tweetove? Time nećete deblokirati korisnika/cu @ScrawledSongs

  1. Prikvačeni tweet

    You are a conglomerate of luck and stardust, a moment that will never be replicated in all the moments that follow you. How fortunate, that you and I should happen to exist in the same eye-blink. How grand, that this second is ours to keep.

    Poništi
  2. To the soil we give our flesh, To the stone, our bone, To the skies, our air, To the world, our selves, And the vultures carry every gift on gentle, loving wings.

    Poništi
  3. In the alleyways it crept, on cracked sidewalks, in filth. It was not needed in bright, shining dwellings built in service of a greater power. No, it lurked lean places, mean places, among the ruined and the awful. And where it stalked, it left strength behind.

    Poništi
  4. Priests of the Secret Faiths are we, scattered across time and tide and trauma-- To the lost gods, the broken gods, the forgotten and the lonely, we pray-- Those that know the taste of loss understand us better than that which is unflinching, unmarred, and holy.

    Poništi
  5. To the slumbering mountaintop, we sing soft songs of mercy, of caring, of the blessings of being a home. We know, someday, that it will wake. We pray it listens.

    Poništi
  6. Poništi
  7. There came a subtle thrumming one day, echoing through the worldwalls. A gentle, insistent scratching that grew into a grinding that grew into a roar. When the teeth pierced the veil, we were ready.

    Poništi
  8. Poništi
  9. O, the little highwayman! A soft little beast is he, a footpad of the fence posts and alleyways, hunter of mouse and cricket and spider and bird-- What thefts does he consider, behind eyes all gold? What treasures await soft, covetous paws?

    Poništi
  10. From that first, eternal cradle we sprang, tumbling onto dry savannah grass. They shaped us, hand and foot and strange, blunt snouts, and set us free to roam beyond the sheltering green. They watch us still, and, in rustling whispers, marvel at their creations.

    Poništi
  11. There is a tendency to slice people into pieces-- To weigh the weight of breast and thigh and jawbone against some unseen scale-- To turn the heart into a butchershop, lusty and red-- Carnality is natural. But keep your knives to yourself.

    Poništi
  12. We shield ourselves from a star that would touch us, for we cannot handle the raw strength of its majesty, even dimmed by distance unfathomable. Even that which spawned all life cannot help but destroy it.

    Poništi
  13. Life is change. A thousand billion lives have come and gone and sung their unique beauty upon the soil, etched it into stone, vanished into the bright and memoryless sky-- And so it will be, as ever-- Life is change. Death is change. Everything is change.

    Poništi
  14. The monks of the Order of the Final Sanctuary were a dying breed. None remained but an elder and a callow youth. In their final silent communion, before the elder passed on, he taught her: The Final Sanctuary is inviolable. There is always safety within.

    Poništi
  15. The candle flame does not know that its wick has an end, nor does it consider the fleeting nature of fuel. It simply burns. The light is worth it.

    Poništi
  16. Consider the moments between, flush with potential-- The second between fall and flight, between glory and grotesquerie, between breath and death-- If we could capture that briefest, most sublime glory, before existence is set in stone, maybe-- If only. If only.

    Poništi
  17. The world grew rotten there, stinking and strange. As though the fabric of reality itself had gone soft and stringy, clinging to the skin as we passed. It began to pulsate, some days past. To move with a slick, awful wriggling. Something is being born.

    Poništi
  18. Under the cruelty of the Verdant Pestilence, we were changed. It began with toughening of the skin, cracks about the joints, and ended with a person imprisoned within a leafy tomb. Cities became silent, echoing forests, and we learned to fear the green.

    Poništi
  19. The ocean remembers the day we left it, we strange coelacanth-cousins, we. One moment, we laid our eggs in her briny depths, another, we waddled away, fins slapping, never to return. As you feel the undertow, consider: Is it any wonder she seeks to reclaim us?

    Poništi
  20. Remember that you are an animal, and that you, too, must seek your pleasures. As the dog digs, as the bird preens, as the rat gnaws, so too must you, in your own way. There is no fault in living.

    Poništi
  21. A dozen memories floated by, faded and sweet, and slipped through their fingers like dust in the wind. Though they could not recapture them, they could watch and warm themself in the light they cast. Eventually, in solace, they could move on.

    Poništi

Čini se da učitavanje traje već neko vrijeme.

Twitter je možda preopterećen ili ima kratkotrajnih poteškoća u radu. Pokušajte ponovno ili potražite dodatne informacije u odjeljku Status Twittera.

    Možda bi vam se svidjelo i ovo:

    ·