Twenty Bucks Says You'll Remember Me...~ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chaosonwheels) wrote2019-04-10 02:59 am
chaosonwheels) wrote2019-04-10 02:59 am
Entry tags:
Cynical Chaos snippet (at some point I will carry over the other excerpts I posted on tumblr ^^;)
I stayed up wayyy too late revising/rewriting this chapter for someone who has class in the morning, but I NEEDED to finish it. I really kinda love how the ending turned out and I wanted to share ^^
(obviously this is fresh off the press and it's 3am so please don't judge me for shit like grammar issues if you find any ^^;)
"The sharp, prickly force builds in the center of my chest and gradually spreads out. It's an uncomfortable tightness at first. Pressure, more irritating than painful. It's just from avoiding it for so long. At my best, the shadows ease into a smooth warmth. An effortless current, flowing and twisting into unbreakable thorns I can call on a whim. But now, it crawls at a slow trudge. Thick paint stuck in a tube. It struggles to move without my breaths pushing it along. Eventually black, inky energy glows around my hands, growing in opacity with each inhale. Sparks dance and glow within the shadows. The current flows between my hands, pooling in the center.
I close my eyes and focus on the feeling. It's important to be familiar. The growling, the biting, the constant call for blood. Rising and falling with my chest. An echo of my pulsing heart. The sparks as prickly thorns rising up my arms, stinging underneath my skin. Eventually, it's reached every point of my body, and I'm immersed. Swaddled in the thorns' cockled embrace. A rush of power sends a shiver up my spine. It's like home, but if home were a boa constrictor wrapping itself around me, and I've only just realized how unqualified I am to handle a wild animal so casually. But in the moment, nothing would dare touch me. Even if it's only to avoid being swallowed themselves. I'm in control. Who could ever try to stop me? What is there to be afraid of? All the power I need to get what I want is right here, in the palm of my hands. I hold death at my fingertips. I shouldn't be afraid of them, they should be afraid--
Stabbing pain suddenly shoots up my arm and severs the connection. It steals the breath from my lungs. I keep silent until I'm completely sure I won't scream. Everything fades at once, and I'm left with nothing but cold and pain. There it was. An exile from home. The dreaded bite. The thorns crying, 'Impostor!' and spitting me from their armored grasp, the cockles and pin needles wedged into my skin as a warning, clear as the city noises below.
Don't come back until you mean it."
(obviously this is fresh off the press and it's 3am so please don't judge me for shit like grammar issues if you find any ^^;)
"The sharp, prickly force builds in the center of my chest and gradually spreads out. It's an uncomfortable tightness at first. Pressure, more irritating than painful. It's just from avoiding it for so long. At my best, the shadows ease into a smooth warmth. An effortless current, flowing and twisting into unbreakable thorns I can call on a whim. But now, it crawls at a slow trudge. Thick paint stuck in a tube. It struggles to move without my breaths pushing it along. Eventually black, inky energy glows around my hands, growing in opacity with each inhale. Sparks dance and glow within the shadows. The current flows between my hands, pooling in the center.
I close my eyes and focus on the feeling. It's important to be familiar. The growling, the biting, the constant call for blood. Rising and falling with my chest. An echo of my pulsing heart. The sparks as prickly thorns rising up my arms, stinging underneath my skin. Eventually, it's reached every point of my body, and I'm immersed. Swaddled in the thorns' cockled embrace. A rush of power sends a shiver up my spine. It's like home, but if home were a boa constrictor wrapping itself around me, and I've only just realized how unqualified I am to handle a wild animal so casually. But in the moment, nothing would dare touch me. Even if it's only to avoid being swallowed themselves. I'm in control. Who could ever try to stop me? What is there to be afraid of? All the power I need to get what I want is right here, in the palm of my hands. I hold death at my fingertips. I shouldn't be afraid of them, they should be afraid--
Stabbing pain suddenly shoots up my arm and severs the connection. It steals the breath from my lungs. I keep silent until I'm completely sure I won't scream. Everything fades at once, and I'm left with nothing but cold and pain. There it was. An exile from home. The dreaded bite. The thorns crying, 'Impostor!' and spitting me from their armored grasp, the cockles and pin needles wedged into my skin as a warning, clear as the city noises below.
Don't come back until you mean it."