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Wings and Horns Chapter Two Chapter Two- Home Alone
Roseline sighed, trying to figure out how to keep her two little creatures under control. She watched Pepo and Haki argue and hit each other, making little insults.
"I have to go shopping with my parents for school supplies. You two stay here, and don't do anything bad, ok?"
Pepo shrugged and turned to the side, grumbling acceptance. Haki tilted his head curiously, "But, Roseline, we can shrink down in size. Why can we not go with you and just ride on your shoulders?"
"Because I'm going with my parents, Haki, and what if they found out about you two? Do you know how much trouble I'd be in?" Roseline answered, pulling on a jacket and walking out the room.
Haki called out after her, "But what do we do while you are gone?"
"I don't know, find something to do that won't burn the house down!" Roseline responded, standing in the door frame before turning around and walking away; she closed the door after her.
Haki turned to Pepo, glaring at him with
Wings and Horns Chapter 1 Chapter One
A delicate fifteen year old walked into the old and extremely large house, cringing as she dumped her bags on the floor.
"This place is old...And disgusting!" She whined, scrunching up her nose. She pulled her hip length into a messy pony tail, scoffing.
"Roseline, it's an old house. It just needs some cleaning up." Her father commented, smiling weakly. Roseline snorted again and stormed away; her mother hurried after her. The woman smiled gently and rested a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "Hey, sweetheart, can you go unpack your stuff in your new room?"
Roseline shrugged and nodded, "Ok, mom." The fifteen year old girl walked up the stairs, on her way to the room. A feeling of unease creeped up against her spine; she swore she could hear movement that wasn't her parent's. Out of the corner of her eye, Roseline spotted a form of a person dart into the room designated as her's.
Roseline approached nervously, her eyebrow's quirked together in fear; once she reached
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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