Truly, Madly, DeeplyStillness.
That's all there was. Stillness in the night. A dog lay snoozing on the porch, his muzzle tucked between his paws. His flanks were barely moving in his sleep; he was sleeping very deeply, not conscious to the slightest bit of movement, not even stirring if a leaf rustled. The dog shifted slightly in his sleep, probably somewhere in Dreamland, dreaming of who-knows-what.
As if to add movement to the dog's action, a car pulled up, junky, battered and old, a faded green jeep. Its once pine green shade with its gleaming luster in its younger days was faded to a baby-barf hue, dull and uninteresting. The bumper was loose, a headlight was broken.
Despite the dull appearance, the driver was not dull at all. She stepped out of the car, her eyes glittering with something unreadable, a mixture of so many things blended into one thing, like fruits blended into a smoothie so that you couldn't tell what the smoothie was made of. The woman took a look at the house, then set off
In The End It's RightSasuke lifted his sword. It was strange that Naruto wasn't trying to stop him. After all, he had always bragged about staying alive and becoming Hokage. "I'm not going to die!" he used to yell proudly, "Because I'm gonna be the greatest Hokage someday!" He'd grin real wide, showing all his teeth...then spring into action.
It had been different when Naruto had tried to bring him back. It had been almost three years ago. When Sasuke had left for Orochimaru, Naruto had gone after him. He had tried to convince him with words, then by force. They had fought like not their own lives, but what they valued as well, were at stake. Sasuke fought, for he had believed that if he lost, he would never rest in peace. He had fought for what had haunted him for almost half his short life. He needed the power to kill Itachi, to avenge his clan. The only one who could give that to him was Orochimaru. Sasuke was willing to do anything for his ambition of killing Itachi. He needed the power. If he was brou
Behind These Onyx EyesKakashi stood in front of the memorial of Konoha, looking at four particular names on it:
He closed his only black eye, remembering these four people, so precious to him and yet they left him, alone in the world. His head conjured up Rin's smiling face, so full of care as she looked over his wound. Obito's determined face, a grin on it, showing all his teeth as he accomplished the Great Fireball Jutsu. His sensei, Minato, with his idiotic grin as he scratched the back of his neck. Sakumo, his father, with his grinning face, proudly praising Kakashi for becoming a Chuunin.
Kakashi remembered all those times before he graduated from the academy. He clung to his father as Sakumo walked him to school for the first time. He remembered clinging to Sakumo's pants once when he stood up. Sakumo had to go on a mission and Kakashi had begged him not to leave him alone again. He had no friends at the academy for some reason and his mo
What I've MissedHunter sighed.
He was starting to miss it.
How long was he staying in the Inner World?
He missed home.
He wondered what was going on in the Outer World.
There he sat, on his bed, in his bedroom.
Shadow was in his manacle.
Igneous and Corona had been sent to Oracle's Shrine to fix it. Sparkle and Magma had gone to see the Invectids.
Now there was only Lumen and Aqune in the palace. Only, Lumen was asleep in his office.
That left Aqune out and she was busy praying for rain.
So Hunter had stayed in his room and he was bored. So bored he went over memories in his head that went as far as to when he lived in the outer world.
Hunter had never missed it before. His grandfather had raised him. His parents were dead since he was 1. They had died in a car crash. They had been in a taxi and the driver was drunk. When Hunter's grandfather died, he ran away to find the inner world.
Now, here he was.
Only today, he missed the Outer World. Just because he remembered it as the place he grew
ClayThe world was black.
Darkness was all Deidara could see as he lay on his back, with no idea of what had just happened.
What the fuck? Hmmm
Gingerly, Deidara got up and saw that he was wearing
No way!! Red clouds on a black cloak. Purple nail polish
He blinked. The darkness seemed to melt before his eyes, revealing
Eight people stood before him, all donning the Akatsuki cloaks not to mention the same purple nail polish.
That is, only one of them was a hologram. That spiky hairdo; the weird whirlpool-like eyes
It wasn't until Deidara found himself gazing into a pair of cold, scarlet eyes that it all came back to him.
----------------------------Flashback no Jutsu!-------------------------------------------------------
"I will not join the Akatsuki!" Deidara yelled.
Itachi Uchiha examined him through his cold, somewhat feminine, eyes. "Well then," he said calmly "I'll need to take you by force unless you agree to come with me and join
Boiling Beans"Why didn't you kill me that night, aru?"
"...Na?" Japan threw China a slightly confused face. "What are you talking about?"-Yao could see that question etched upon Japan's face.
China wasn't fooled.
"You know, aru." "Don't lie," he wanted to add; but he refrained.
He received no answer; Kiku was silent; but China knew that face.
China wasn't fooled.
He received no answer.
He expected none.
Kiku was silent; but China knew that face. Japan's facial features were set-firm; determined; ready.
Yao hated that look. (But once...once, he had loved it-all of it, and the boy he had raised...Japan, Kiku, Japan...it was still that little boy...but that was long ago )
Yao hated him for that face.
He had been ready to turn on him...
Yao resisted the urge to take that stupid, stupid, hateful nation-(that he had once loved)-by the shoulders, shake him until sense returned to those blank brown eyes; (those eyes had once been so big); knock away that blank expression. He wanted some
GrantedThe long, wooden piece, the guitar. The sleek but worn curves worn down by gripping hands, and strings tired but still strong. The thrumming, the hollow, yet still full soundfull of rich, humming wind flying in and then out to churn the air into chocolate.
The man is young. His case is not rare.
He sits in that small place underground, the axis to his own small worldhis world, the small axis to the big and intimidating world. Day after day, night after night, he sits against that wall, strumming his guitar, the calloused fingers fluttering and fluttering over the strings.
Strum and thrum.
Holding the familiar guitar he cannot take for granted, he plays and plays and plays for a small but filling mealand perhaps a future he cannot see.
Day in, day out.
The sun flies across the sky. The moon soars to another side.
Days and nights and in between, he sits in that part of the world, his fingers flying until he cannot appreciate the beautiful voice he controls.
Yet it is th
Mango StreetMango Street:
Where the poor sing their song.
Mango Street, with Esperanza, who doesnt belong;
And Cathy, Queen of Cats;
Sire, who lives like a rat;
Darius, who said something wise;
Rafaela, with lovesong sighs;
Minerva, who wants to break;
Sally, her love is fake;
Alicia who sees mice;
Marin, who wishes to entice.
Mamacita, no speak English;
Rosa Vargas, her kids are hellish.
Mango Street: the lane of broken dreams.
Escaping?is difficult, it seems.