ShadowyEclipse

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The Dream.

The world spun by in a frightening display of bright colors, the glinting lights from scattered arms and armor that littered the ground underneath, tainted by blood. She was vaguely aware of a heavy weight that settled upon her, of the motion that carried her frail body through this battlefield. The rise and fall of her bangs as they fell in disarray over her eyes. She heard the loud clanking and banging noise of steel colliding with steel. That must be the heavy weight that seemed to pin her body down, to whatever was carrying her. She raised a hand with all the effort she could allow, for it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. She

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The Assassin.

A gentle dusting of white snow was blown across the mossy cobblestone streets by a chilling wind. The flakes swirled and danced in midair, finding their way into the eyes or face of a pair of unsuspecting men, standing next to a small fire that burned from a broken barrel. These men wore navy blue coats, a uniform specific to the royal guards of the city. At their hip sat long sabers, the handles ornate, the sheath they sat in was wrought with silver and gold. They paid no attention to what was happening behind them, or beyond them, nobody would be crazy enough to venture outside in this temperature! Although the biting chill in their toes

Literature Scraps

Rose.

Silky dark-blue petals twirled gently in a unseen breeze. They brushed past the pale skin of a prone figure upon the floor, a petal or two often getting caught in the dark and mangled coat the figure wore. His face was nearly obscured by the darkness, though dark blue eyes, an almost exact shade of the petals, shone bright. A raspy breath would exit his lips, his chest heaving for another lungful of air, possibly his last. “He loves me…” The voice echoed throughout the long hallway, and the figure on the floor convulsed, shouting in pain. The petals surrounding him began to grow less silky, less beautiful, as if they were

Stories

The Dream. by ShadowyEclipse, literature

Literature

The Dream.

The world spun by in a frightening display of bright colors, the glinting lights from scattered arms and armor that littered the ground underneath, tainted by blood. She was vaguely aware of a heavy weight that settled upon her, of the motion that carried her frail body through this battlefield. The rise and fall of her bangs as they fell in disarray over her eyes. She heard the loud clanking and banging noise of steel colliding with steel. That must be the heavy weight that seemed to pin her body down, to whatever was carrying her. She raised a hand with all the effort she could allow, for it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. She

The skull mask. by ShadowyEclipse, literature

Literature

The skull mask.

Muffled footsteps echoed across the hallway, a dark figure illuminated by the dull glow of one whale oil lamp that hung in the far side. A hood was drawn far over his head, a metallic glint could just barely be seen underneath. He walked in a crouch, a short-sword held in one hand, the blade’s reflection dulled by charcoal. Gunshots could be heard from far away, terrified screams, explosions that the man could feel all the way where he stealthily stood. A rat scurried across his foot, it’s sharp teeth attempting to take a bite of the supple leather before being speared with the dull blade. The man came to a heavy wooden door,

The Assassin. by ShadowyEclipse, literature

Literature

The Assassin.

A gentle dusting of white snow was blown across the mossy cobblestone streets by a chilling wind. The flakes swirled and danced in midair, finding their way into the eyes or face of a pair of unsuspecting men, standing next to a small fire that burned from a broken barrel. These men wore navy blue coats, a uniform specific to the royal guards of the city. At their hip sat long sabers, the handles ornate, the sheath they sat in was wrought with silver and gold. They paid no attention to what was happening behind them, or beyond them, nobody would be crazy enough to venture outside in this temperature! Although the biting chill in their toes

Rose. by ShadowyEclipse, literature

Literature

Rose.

Silky dark-blue petals twirled gently in a unseen breeze. They brushed past the pale skin of a prone figure upon the floor, a petal or two often getting caught in the dark and mangled coat the figure wore. His face was nearly obscured by the darkness, though dark blue eyes, an almost exact shade of the petals, shone bright. A raspy breath would exit his lips, his chest heaving for another lungful of air, possibly his last. “He loves me…” The voice echoed throughout the long hallway, and the figure on the floor convulsed, shouting in pain. The petals surrounding him began to grow less silky, less beautiful, as if they were