A/n –I don't usually do fan fiction (then why the hell am I on
fanfiction.net??fool!) my last fic crashed and burned and hopefully this
one will join it the fiery regions of hell (hurray for imagery). Frankly
this story (and my last one..and all my other work) makes me cringe-but ive
decided to share it with the world just for the hell of it (feel privileged
() feel free to review but please don't flame unless its constructive-
..fire scares me…oh and I also have a tendency to use –'s instead of
punctuation-sorry bout that…
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story
The sky was beautiful. Not the screaming fiery burst of colour of a dying sunset, or the tangible dark velvet and diamond stars of a midnight sky- but just a soothing gentle beauty, a perfect background to a relaxed autumn afternoon dimming into evening. Hazy purple trails were drifting across the blue and clouds were touched with glowing rosy pink by the invisible sun. Another day was fading out.
In the deserted park sits a girl with autumns soul reflected in her eyes- deep chestnut, burnt auburn, the loss of youth and innocence, the belief that spring will come once more. She wears pink as she always has, but not the little girl pink of her childhood but mellow floating shades that melt into the rosy coloured sky. She has grown up since her naïve little princess days- you can see it in everyway. But as she gazes up the open heavens, twirling a single white rose between her fingers, you know she is still an innocent dreamer at heart.
Movement along the path drags her back into reality. A figure is framed against the sky and caught between the trees spindly black branches spreading like veins. The figure is coming towards her dressed in black, he is willowy, thin, and breakable like the swaying trees. His disheveled blonde hair is reflected by the last wandering rays of light casting a jagged spiky halo around his head-a crown of thorns.
"Fallen angel" she thinks to herself as she watches him approach-but she wouldn't wish such a misused and clichéd sentiment upon him- he was the independent gothic rebel who didn't need to be anyone's angel, he didn't need saving. That's what he told himself.
She calls out to him her voice carrying on the passing breeze. He looks up, the storms in his eyes calming as he sees her. He kneels down beside her on the grass bony limbs poking through the rip in his jeans.
"Hey Mimi"
"Are you ok Matt?" concern is apparent in her eyes but he shuts her out with a simple lie:
"I'm fine".
Well that's all I can be bothered with for now-if you liked this and think it would be worthwhile me continuing please review (actually im just stalling for time-I haven't really thought of a plot yet..opps-but don't let that stop you from reviewing mwahahaha!)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story
The sky was beautiful. Not the screaming fiery burst of colour of a dying sunset, or the tangible dark velvet and diamond stars of a midnight sky- but just a soothing gentle beauty, a perfect background to a relaxed autumn afternoon dimming into evening. Hazy purple trails were drifting across the blue and clouds were touched with glowing rosy pink by the invisible sun. Another day was fading out.
In the deserted park sits a girl with autumns soul reflected in her eyes- deep chestnut, burnt auburn, the loss of youth and innocence, the belief that spring will come once more. She wears pink as she always has, but not the little girl pink of her childhood but mellow floating shades that melt into the rosy coloured sky. She has grown up since her naïve little princess days- you can see it in everyway. But as she gazes up the open heavens, twirling a single white rose between her fingers, you know she is still an innocent dreamer at heart.
Movement along the path drags her back into reality. A figure is framed against the sky and caught between the trees spindly black branches spreading like veins. The figure is coming towards her dressed in black, he is willowy, thin, and breakable like the swaying trees. His disheveled blonde hair is reflected by the last wandering rays of light casting a jagged spiky halo around his head-a crown of thorns.
"Fallen angel" she thinks to herself as she watches him approach-but she wouldn't wish such a misused and clichéd sentiment upon him- he was the independent gothic rebel who didn't need to be anyone's angel, he didn't need saving. That's what he told himself.
She calls out to him her voice carrying on the passing breeze. He looks up, the storms in his eyes calming as he sees her. He kneels down beside her on the grass bony limbs poking through the rip in his jeans.
"Hey Mimi"
"Are you ok Matt?" concern is apparent in her eyes but he shuts her out with a simple lie:
"I'm fine".
Well that's all I can be bothered with for now-if you liked this and think it would be worthwhile me continuing please review (actually im just stalling for time-I haven't really thought of a plot yet..opps-but don't let that stop you from reviewing mwahahaha!)