Kumori's Writing Dump

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Started by Chaneque 4 posts View original ↗
  1. Where I dump my half-decent literature, lol. There's not much to say apart from the fact I usually focus on the same characters in the same universe, so that's why (if they're named) you'll see them over and over.

    Queen of the Night [Poetry]

    Spoiler
    The Queen toppled by her mind

    Depression will turn the raging tides

    Alcohol and drugs may make her blind

    She cannot possibly stay in her right mind

    Hark the angels, the choir sings

    Who to the Queen is the true king?

    The first, the one with the diamond ring

    The second, the one with the shining wing

    She rides home in a chariot of fire

    Makes jokes of the Tempest, calls him ‘sire’

    They go high into the sky, higher, higher

    At night’s end, to her room she will retire

    The heir kisses the azure sky

    And says to her mother “this is goodbye”

    But nothing can break the bonds of time

    As her mother loses to a bottle of wine
    Gabriel [Flash Fiction]

    Spoiler
    The café was small and off the road. It wasn’t well-known of, and those who did know of its humble existence gained it by word of mouth. Gabriel hadn’t known of its existence until a sloppily-written letter had made it to his office that morning, from someone he wasn’t too keen on seeing.

    The place was small, remarkably so, with only a few tables stuck between its cherry-pink walls. There were two female vampires with electric-blue hair conversing over cups of tea, and there was a lone woman drinking coffee; Gabriel’s invite.

    For a few moments he ignored her, with the knowledge that she wouldn’t mind, and ordered himself a cup of tea. Once the deed was done, he perched himself on the wooden chair opposite the woman’s. She looked up at him with grey eyes. Her gaze flitted to Gabriel’s huge wings, which flapped every few minutes in order to prevent arthritis in them.

    “I’m sorry for what happened,” she said softly, taking a sip of coffee, her wedding ring hitting against the mug. Gabriel admired the simplicity of the motion. “It’s just... I should’ve known, Gabriel. Everything about it stank of falsity.”

    “How were you to have known?” he asked, thanking the waitress who couldn’t stop staring at his wings as she set down his cup of tea. “I may as well just have been corrupted, like you thought.” His gaze moved to a picture hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of someone, and he couldn’t quite place who was in the portrait, though he knew them, or had known them.

    “But you’re Gabriel,” the woman insisted. “Nothing can corrupt you so easily. You have God’s blessings, after all.” She noticed Gabriel was looking at the painting, and she turned to see it herself. She saw more than Gabriel – every single stroke of the paintbrush, the rough surface of the canvas, the time and effort placed into painting its beauty. “That’s a portrait of Moira Gray. You know who she is?”

    “The woman who pressed for equality between all species,” Gabriel recited from an old textbook he’d studied. “She’s the reason why you and I can talk here, and why we’re not screaming insults at those vampires over there.”

    “Don’t forget the ghosts on table four,” the woman said, suppressing a smile at Gabriel’s confused frown. He turned to table four and could see nothing. “Don’t worry about it. They’re in the toilets.” Gabriel returned his gaze to the portrait of Moira Gray. She had revolutionized the world of modern magic, creating perfect equality between all species. Long-lasting feuds between species still stood, like the feud between angels and demons, but for the most part it had been vanquished. That was the reason why he, a superior archangel, could talk with a measly human in an off-the-road café while two vampires talked about the latest fads in drinking blood, which repulsed Gabriel, though it was a vampire’s way of life.

    “I despise vampires’ lifestyles,” he commented. “Though I seem repulsed by all that happens in your murderous world, my friend.” The woman on the other side of the table chuckled.

    “You’ll have to get used to the sight of blood someday, Gabriel,” she chortled, taking a swig of her coffee. “Considering it’s a common sight in this world.” Gabriel made a face and the woman laughed even harder.

    “It’s a red liquid, Gabriel. Hardly going to kill you,” she snorted. “Hey, the vampires are ordering glasses of blood.” Gabriel glanced over at the counter, where the staring waitress was trying to explain that their café did not do drinks with blood in them, and they refused to even do a black pudding. “How difficult it is for vampires to adapt to their new lifestyles.”

    “Well, it’s all been a little difficult since magic was announced to the world,” the woman sighed. “Especially for us. Our existence was made public that day. We magicians, bugged every day to cast a spell for someone. If only they knew it wasn’t so simple. At least the necromancers are in booming business with the uprising of gothic people.” Gabriel sighed.

    “I’ve always hated necromancers who use their powers for money,” he grumbled. “Anyway, do you mind if I go now? Mountains of paperwork await my imminent return, and I need to get them done swiftly.” The woman smiled.

    “Sure, you can go. Thanks for coming on such short notice, Gabriel,” she said. “Goodbye.” Gabriel stood up and pushed his chair in, noticing the waitress’s stare.

    “I hope to see you again soon, little Shadow.”
    We Know [Flash Fiction]

    Spoiler
    Every day I wonder where my knives go. Some end up in the kitchen, turning fruit to mush. Some end up on the alleyways, for threatening or ending. Some end up in bathrooms at night, calling for the sweet allure of blood. Some are for simple tricks. But nothing here is ever simple.

    Here she is. Proud and tall and gorgeous. She always stands taller than everyone is. Always pretending to be superior. And as she orders twenty knives and hands me the cash, I wonder who will end up on the receiving end of the blade.

    We both know why she is here. Not for the knives – she could get them anywhere. She’s here to get away. I’m here to get away. We’ve escaped to the Sea of Trees, to the comforting silence of a dead forest. It’s faded away, past its expiry date. Like me. Like her.

    I wonder when she’ll join me, proudly supporting black skeletal wings. When she can rid of the spark. When she can rid of the angel. When she can rid of what little purity she holds on. When she can rid of all her mistakes.

    I want to float again. I want to rule the skies. I want to cut fools down. I want to be like I once was. I want my wings back. I want another chance.

    But both of us know we’ll never get it. Only we know. Her, the majestic Shadow. And me. Nothing. We know the time for second chances is gone. It escaped so long ago we can’t even remember when.

    We know. We will always know.
    Yeah... there's not many good stories I have that I'm willing to share.
  2. Great work there Kumori, really enjoyed reading all of them, even the poem! I usually don't like those so kudos.

    Actually fiction associated with divine/angels are some of my favs, you should definitely do more. :3
  3. Worry not, a lot of my stories revolve around the activities of two of the Seven Archangels, Gabriel and Raphael. I'm not sure, but maybe once I've finished the story behind the archdemon Sariel (Raphael's sister and Gabriel's former lover) I'll start introducing some of the other archangels.
  4. The start of something that may or may not be finished - one of my oldest and best ideas, from around 3/4 years back.

    Shatter

    Spoiler
    For the first time in her false life, Ebony Rose breathed. Her creator smiled, brushing back stray locks and packing away the last shreds of tools. Years of dedication and bloody sweat had finally amounted to something, something that seemed to be a light of sweet hope. Her lips moved, uttering a prayer that seemed amplified in the silence of the cellar.

    “Is it done, Wreath?” Her lips closed, her look of happiness fading into her perpetual scowl. There was the sound of stifled footsteps, bringing the ominous presence ever closer. She felt the need to get him out, to protect her child from the dark hearted.

    “What do you think is in front of you, Hugo? A child’s toy?” she snarled, an extraordinary malice burning in her vocal cords. A gloved hand wrapped around her shoulder, a terrifying power in the grip. She let out a deep-throated growl, one that came from every fibre of her rage to him. “It’s done, Hugo, and need I say little more?”

    “I don’t like your tone, Wreath,” came the cold and spine-chilling voice, laced with poison. “I can erase you. Your life is of little matter to us, as your purpose is fulfilled.” There also seemed to be a hunger, a hunger to wipe her out of existence, as if it was his ambition. “But I cannot ignore your genius. Erasing you at this point in time would place us at a painful disadvantage, would it not?” It was a rhetorical question, though even if it had not been, it was one she had no answer for. She knew little of Organization B’s endeavours, and they were something she preferred to stay oblivious to.

    “There isn’t much point getting excited,” she said, her voice like steel, cutting the momentary silence like a knife. “Leave. You cannot hope within Ebony yet.” His fingers wrapped around the side of her neck, tightening, pressure alternating on each fingertip. It was almost routine for his visits, to make her short of breath to the point of near unconsciousness, to prove his superiority.

    She did not fall or stumble, show any sign of weakness until he was too far to hear the sobs that racked her body.

    “Miss Wreath?” the youthful male voice was sweet and gentle, soothing her, making her feel slightly at peace, despite Hugo’s painful visit. “Miss Wreath, are you okay?” She recognised the voice, of a boy who popped up on her doorstep in search of money which he had a significant lack thereof. His visits were erratic, to say the least. “Talk to me, Miss Wreath!” He seemed desperate for words to spill from her mouth. His desperation prompted her to speak, though any of her former hatred had long since faded into oblivion.

    “I don’t want your help today,” she said, a slight whimper evident in her voice. “Please leave me.” A sigh of pain from the boy, but she could hear his feet dragging on the ground. “The money is on the table,” she added, soothing his fears. “Take it... You deserve it.”

    “Thank you.” His eyes, a milky white, glanced at the huddled object in the back of the room. Another pair of eyes, curious and soft, stared back.
    AAAAAH FONT CHANGE OH NOEZ

    Chillax, I just needed to CP from another site.