"School.., somebody save me"
15 , Germany
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Category: Writing and Poetry
On his travels Zeos had met a woman, Elen, they travelled together for months. This is a little something I wrote about her pov during his execution. It was 2am so there might be mistakes idk. (More to her sometime later) - She remembered the times they passed families on the road, how he’d smile, as if he found them as sweet as she did. But sometimes… she noticed something in his eyes » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
wrote this at school when I was bored, notice; I have never been to court I dont really know how everything works - » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
I dont really like this one. Just Marque's pov of his own death - Marque dies twice. The first time is in the way his parents’ eyes hollow when Zeos raises the knife. The second time is when he understands why. He always thought love was a bir » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
The treehouse smelled like sap and dust and the faint metallic tang of old nails. At night, the forest went still in that way that made every sound feel illegal—crickets ticking like a broken clock, leaves whispering secrets no one would ever know. Zeos climbed the ladder up the treehouse without a lantern. He didn’t need one » Continue Reading
— 1 Comment— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Marque’s pov ig? Idk man just read it or sum - I keep thinking I did something wrong. That if I rewind far enough, there’s a version of me that notices you sooner. They told me I was brilliant. Chosen. Easy to love. I didn’t know they only told me » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
A letter Zeos could never send. To his brother he brutally murdered, on the day of his execution. - Marque, This is not an apology. I do not believe in apologizing to the inevitable. They » Continue Reading
— 1 Comment— 4 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
This will prolly be kind of an introduction to who my hb Zeos is? Don’t kill me, I suck at writing - I always thought envy would feel loud. Green, foaming, theatrical. Something that announces itself like a villain stepping into the light. It wasn’t. » Continue Reading
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