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Lost in Fairy TalesPart of her liked winter. Part of her didn't.
She liked it when it snowed: the shower of sterility from cold flakes in the crisp air of the morning; the frozen patches where she twirled and spun until she fell, laughing, into the piles of white fluff; making snow angels with her soft white wings as the heavens rained drops of ice cream on her tongue.
She didn't like the snow, though: her closest friends, the birds, leaving on long voyages to the South, leaving only the squirrels and rabbits to play with; the loneliness without trees to sing with, their voices gone along with their leaves, and only the stoic pine trees to speak to when the day was at an end; the ponds frozen and waiting every day to hear the bubbly songs of the fish, only to be left in silence day after day.
Long ago, the girl had a name. She held her name close to her, a secret for one set of ears.
The trees all knew her name, though the girl never told them. Wh
Innocence"She is running
A hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction"
No one ever told her it was wrong. Everyone insists she should have known, that this road was not the right one. but she didn't. The girl doesn't understand things like that. There was one time she was on a very bright road, but she fell off --right when she caught sight of her final firefly. Everything else ceased to mean anything. Only that the fireflies were gone. This girl became convinced she could travel backwards and find herself again in the insects' embrace. Everyone tells her this is impossible. But she refuses to lose hope--because losing that would mean losing her world.
"She is trying but the canyon's ever widening
In the depths of her cold heart"
She tried to find a way up the cliff at first; but it will always be too steep, for everyone who tries to climb. The girl stopped trying to sca
Angel's WingsIn your midst is a girl. She is different, with her shining, scarlet-flecked hair and hesitant movements. This girl does not belong here, but she fits in all the same, in a strange way no one can seem to identify. As she sits, your kind gathers around her, hoping for the sight of this strange being that graced you with her foreign presence. There is a definite darkness about her, but she shines, letting for once the dark fall away, if only a little. Your kind whisper amongst themselves in a guttural tongue, speaking of her strangeness.
"Hello, everyone..." she says quietly, but everyone hears.
"I know you don't like it here...no one would...I want to help change that. Let me tell you a story," she asks of you, voice seemingly on the edge of cracking. You're reassured this is just her voice, that it always sounds this way, by some of the others. Everyone stands quietly, no evident movement anywhere. Your kind nods to her, and the girl with the eyes that shine like unpolished hunks of em
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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