Newest Deviations
Amongst ThemAmongst ThemAmongst Them
They all wore signs around their necks, straight hats that perched like hungry birds on shoulderbones. I tried to learn more, took from them the loan of one such symbol of their tribe's belonging.
It sat heavy on my back at first but I grew used to having something hold me down, a slab of storm-cracked sky to bolster my nerve when gone amongst their wise and old.
I learned to read the writing on these signs because, they said, that's what the garments were: a summing up of all the wearer's mind. Reduced to text, I felt distraught, prepare
by ~aGoodNeighbour
WendyhouseWendyhouseWendyhouse
The afterbirth of storm still flaps my hair like it forced through the wings of this blackbird that's lain like a gift at the spot the door
used to be. But the gale has flipped the dead weight of it, held its face to the long drawl. I climb on top, scraping away the muddy
skin of my knees, the window's dank crosshair splintering in my fist. My head is framed by the doorway's crumbling matter.
Earwig of my own head, I duck inside. And that is all: the must and beetles, this hunk of thundered wood, no symbol.
by ~aGoodNeighbour
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