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Painted LoveI had never gone to the Wishing Well before. It's not that I didn't want to go there; it's just that I had never had the incentive to go, being occupied with my studies, both academic and magical. The latter was a secret though, known only to Mr. Gold, aka Rumpelstiltskin, my elder witch, and myself. It had taken a recommendation from him to finally get me curious about the old well. "A good place to commune with your element," he had said. "Or at least to just sit and think."
And as Saturday was my regular day to drop all my work and have fun, run errands, and/or explore, I had decided to go to the Wishing Well. It was quiet, misty, and slightly chilly as I walked down the main thoroughfare. I knew nothing would open until 9 at least, but it still felt a little strange, walking down the, normally busy, street by myself; it was a good kind of strange though, almost magical.
As I walked past Granny's Diner, the
The Secretive KnightThe stocky, greasy bald man opened the oblong wooden box with great haste. Rummaging through the stuffing of red cloth that appears to protect its true contents, he pulled a long smile, revealing the holes in his set of teeth.
Letting out a raspy laugh, he gently closes the wooden box. "Now this is what I call quality service!" he said, looking across the table at the other person seated with him.
He turned behind him and yelled to a waitress, "Fetch me your best concoction, lass! 'Tis a night to celebrate!" Turning back to his companion, he added, "On me, of course!"
The other person said not a word. With arms crossed and seated straight up, the person was fully clothed in dark overalls. A wide plumed atop the head, it did well to hide the eyes. The rest of the face was covered with a scarf. Hands in gloves and feet in leather boots, there was not an inch of skin exposed to sight. With the scarce lighting that the tavern could afford to give in the time of the dark night, it was nearl
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More