❝ WE ARE ALL THE BAD IN SOMEONE'S STORY. ❞
do not copy. all rights reserved ⓒ
𑁍 blue rose awards | first place in poetry & second place in unknown story
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As the half-moon whispers against the wrath of dawn, she thought that those lush velvets beneath her fingers seems much more of a petalled curse than a truth cackling with its spindly fingers; a phantom of what it truly is.
Donned with rose-red cloths and ethereal jewels that gleamed with their crooked teeth, the young queen toys with a silky feather, her heart a fleeting rhythm against her chest. She knows he will kill her, and she does not want to wait any longer.
She does not want to wait for her slaughter.
Standing, poised like a dagger, the queen remembers who she was. She is a storyteller, a weaver of tales, a witch enrapturing men with her silver tongue. The girl smiles.
She pleads for a tale. A single, rose red fantasy begging to slip off her breath and onto awaiting ears.
And when he obliges, the raconteur begins, her tale seemingly seraphic against her roseate lips.
Her tale a story that never ends.
♛♕♛
tale | one
TELL ME THE TALE OF THE MAN WITH UNSEEN BEAUTY AND THE GIRL WITH HIDDEN BEASTS.
