chosen title of kittykittyhunter
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The ForecasterMy brother's solemn predictions often landed him in trouble, even though he was frequently correct. One morning he placed his trembling hands on my shoulders. I was busy, fishing. But I knew at once from the pressure of his fingers, from the grave way he spoke my name that something was amiss. "Tae," he whispered, "Atlantis is sinking."The Forecaster by kittykittyhunter
I remember my first reaction was to laugh. Shau shook me, frustrated. "I do not jest!" he hissed. "I am certain, Tae."
Brushing away his palms, I cast my gaze to the river. There had not been a single quirk of the line. I adored Shau, yet, I despised his antic, paranoid ways: he would never be a hunter. "You have frightened away our meal! Please attend your duties, Shau. Stop fretting. The continent is fine."
Shau did not relent; he twisted my wrist until I was forced to heed.
RomeoThe name's Romeo. Yeah, alright. Don't bother. Whatever you were about to say, I've already heard it: considering the fact that probably everyone in the world is force-fed Shakespeare at some point or other, it's not surprising that all the stupid puns that come my way aren't exactly original. I've had English teachers yell lines at me, thinking that, for some dumb reason, I've got the whole play memorised. Not likely. My parents didn't call me Romeo because they're Die Hard Bard fans. Dad lost a bet to a mate. Not exactly enchanting.Romeo by kittykittyhunter
I was watching TV in the living room, minding my own business. All of a sudden the door slammed open, and there was Mum, glaring at me as though I'd left a week's worth of socks stuffed behind the radiator. I was about to remind her that I'd taken out the rubbish that morning, but before I could say anything, she strode over to the windows and wre
mermaidImermaid by kittykittyhunter
When I met you:
the ocean had spat you, violently,
onto a beach.
You lay with seaweed winding your hair
and your eyes, deep ink,
carved out a hole
in my chest.
My body buckled
and my heart fell into
the small gap that stretched between my feet;
So, I thought, this is admiration –
I soon learnt
that it was
You told me of ships that had set their heads
on the seabed. Schools of fish trailed through
cabins while you and your friends traded
shells on the deck. Trivial pastimes for your
mermaid gangs; I cut my hands on the scales
that flashed on your tail and you watched
(avidly) as red dropped onto the sand.
Take me with you!
I screamed – you made faces,
touched my skin with your talons,
grimaced and whispered,
Too smooth. You liked corals and
rocks that were as gnarled
and twisted as you.
I’d heard of a trade that had worked in reverse:
She was a fool.
02 .My loved one –02 . by kittykittyhunter
knees soaked with mud and hands bloodied,
fatigue drawing lines
under the perfection of her eyes.
If I could take her pain and fling it in a river
I gladly would.
I think we were built to last
and I wish that I could share that belief with others:
this rollicking world spins us back and forth
but we are not
You craft new pinnacles
where I can roost,
where I can close myself from a vanishing sun,
where I can view the plains in all their splendour –
broken and being
rebuilt. We’ll fill the cracks with whatever we can.
We’ve already stuck confetti
to our hands.
I shall say it again till the erosion takes place
and crumbles the stone-studded hearts:
I think we were built to last.
life lessonsa decadent king upon an aginglife lessons by kittykittyhunter
throne sits stiffly; he brims with
vanity and will walk alone but
on his wrinkled fingers are hallowed
stones -- they will shine in the
earth and gleam among his bones.
yet i do not pity the
lonely king who has more
things than i shall ever
have; i swear that i
would relinquish my youth for
gold, stolen from dragon
hoards and rainbow streams;
it is worth every
coin and i believe
that pirates are
the wisest of
us all so
FootstepsThere are stories reserved for the hours succeeding midnight,Footsteps by kittykittyhunter
candlelit murmurs that volley through the darkness
and filter in through
the pores that form our skin.
I have read them, I have told them,
I have nestled them close as new born babes and now,
I shall sing the songs to you.
Once there was a child who longed to conquer everything:
the world, herself
and all the demons in between;
but she faltered and she stumbled and she split her knees –
she broke her ribcage open and her heart stopped
The girl begged for Mercy and was duly engulfed by
the embraces of those whom would
never let [her] go.
I edge closer to that superior version of me,
fragments fused in flawless unity, tessellating, interlacing,
forged from the fire and with the lightning strikes
that descend from the tangle of stars.
I am sewing up my scars with devotion, one-by-one,
I will show you
that paper cranes are more than the promise of a dream.
Dear Captain! Do you kno
Press StartSometimes I feel like throwingPress Start by kittykittyhunter
everything away and starting over
piece by piece:
it’d take a while, but who’s to say
that the finished mosaic
wouldn’t be worth the trouble?
I’m not an Artist; I only see with
my eyes and draw conclusions
from the little things I know,
yet I cling to beauty in it’s smallest form —
glasses free of smudges
and colourful pebbles.
I’m de-cluttering, organising, moving on,
freeing up space so that I have
the room to breathe. When you feel
asphyxiated, you wish that it was easy,
like the flowing sea.
So here’s to fresh beginnings, happy
endings, soulful middles. I’ve got my paper
and pen and will gather of the shards
of my masterpiece.
burn brightlythis will not be a sluggish victoryburn brightly by kittykittyhunter
but the stars heaped upon trembling shoulders —
the words I’ve spoken over and over
are gathering here,
and I will watch you as I watched Maud,
who brought a broader understanding
of love and of beauty — hark,
the verses are scribed on my fingers,
of an old lord
my fanfare shall not be dulcet —
bring your war drums, let them know I have come
and am here to stay
MoonpulseThey gave Ayesa’s mother comforting words.Moonpulse by kittykittyhunter
“You can’t help it,” said Old Thean, setting a basket of herbs on the apothecary counter. “We must all die – but outliving your child will be painful, I admit.”
“It would be worse if Ayesa had been more agreeable,” chimed Selanor Dixit. She baked the finest breads in the entire village. “I can’t imagine what you endure.”
It was true. Ayesa had always been a nuisance. When she was four, she returned from the forest being followed by herolves: Young Thean had fought them off with a torch. When Ayesa was seven, she waded into Brackery Pond and got herself covered in slime. It was no surprise to anyone when, aged thirteen, Ayesa became the first villager in thirty years to contract moonpulse. Her skin became clammy and the physician announced that she’d be dead within six lun
Water at 50 DegreesThe White Queen liked to show her teeth when she smiled. They were yellowing a little, but she had sharp incisors. The teeth made a strange combination with her lips, which were cracked though well-formed. Strange? Perhaps ‘noteworthy’ would be a better word.Water at 50 Degrees by kittykittyhunter
People who were brought before the White Queen often found themselves staring at her mouth when she spoke, watching out for the twitching muscles that denoted their fates. Her eyes were too frightening to look upon – hollow sockets that would steam when the White Queen was angry, or seep green tears when the White Queen was sad. There were those who allowed their gazes to stray to her forehead or cheekbones, but they were not many. Thus, they are regularly forgotten.
She always drank water at fifty degrees.
A servant would check the contents of the chalice or goblet with a thermometer. Her Majesty could tell if the water was
Paintings and PoetryShe enjoyed giving advice.Paintings and Poetry by kittykittyhunter
“You can’t always wait for stardust to fill your lungs.” She jolted her head in my general direction and I felt as though she’d flung a spotlight on me; she ignored my blushes and continued to string her bow, barrelling on, “Life isn’t always that accommodating. Sometimes, you’ll have to fight your way through huge obstacles. People who want to hurt or deceive you. People who want to see you fail. Your own fear. That’s the worst one, in my experience. Nothing holds the soul back more than fear.”
Her words prompted rigorous murmuring among the troops. Once again, our esteemed captain was right. She grinned, enjoying the quiet praise. I didn’t want to ruin her mood but I couldn’t allow my concerns to remain unvoiced: I raised my hand and a hush fell among the crowd.
It was unnerving. I star
meetings“Hey. Are you alright?”meetings by kittykittyhunter
Summer was buzzing in his ears when he turned towards the voice; a chorus of insects was accompanied by the flapping of wings overhead and, somewhere not too distant, a stream gurgled. He saw a girl with black, unkempt hair – there were holes in her jeans and her t-shirt was splattered with mud. His gaze travelled to her jaw, bloodied and grazed.
“I think,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “that you should worry about yourself instead.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
CardigansWhen the world slowly rolled towards evening, I leant over the balcony railings and watched her stand in the communal garden, flat face uplifted, eyes closed as she basked in the sun’s last warmth. It could have been like the sinking star in storybooks – a brash vermillion – but it was always golden. Once my mother heard of my disappointment, she scoffed,Cardigans by kittykittyhunter
“Life is rarely like a storybook.”
Those words did not leave me. In autumn, it brought me no delight to look for squirrels carrying fruit. In winter, I did not waste my time with searching for identical snowflakes. And in spring, which was the heaviest with folklore, there was no hunt for fairies.
Summer arrived. My mother returned to her old pastime. She stood outside, pale hands clutching her thighs. Her cardigan sleeves had frayed. The hem of her skirt swept the concrete floor.
It finally occurred that her words had been a warning. She
fantasy.there are moments in the day when you become too aware of all the ordinary obstacles. like a bookshelf squeezed into an awkward space so that you smack your shoulder against the wood every morning as you leave your room; like the trainers strewn across the stretch of hallway so that you trip on your way to the door; like the welcome mat that slips and slides on the patio because it'll rain till noon. life is doing its best to impede you from progressing or getting out and that is the worst thing:fantasy. by kittykittyhunter
you can never get out.