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Transcending the Immobility of Paralysis . .... here is one of my biggest canvas acrylic paintings to date. Three foot by four foot and needs to be seen in person to truly contemplate . Artisticconjurations.com #transcend #bustthrough #breakonthrough #theotherside #demononmyback #demons #death #darkart #fromthedarkness #artisticconjurations #undogmentedreality https://www.instagram.com/p/B3SevrWnp70/?igshid=1e2qmb025vg
Not on my watch
The inside: an old car, obviously older than it's owner. It is loved - no dust will be found on the surface, no stains on the beige leather covers. Several papers are laying on the passenger seat, A bit cluttered, but clean. The half emptied coke in the door at the driver's seat, still bubbling out carbon and oxygen indicate that the driver is not long gone. A blanket on the back seat, carefully folded, shows of nights spent in here more often than not.
The mirror: a small cross hangs from it, same for a voodoo doll. Not a professional thing - it has stitches everywhere. Seems like something crafted by a child, and various needles are pushed into it. Forcefully so, more than one is broken or bend. Some new, most are older.
The dashboard: right over the steering wheel, there are two cinema tickets, old and yellow. On occasion ripped, often crinkled and rumpled. Whatever movie they have been for is no longer readable. Drops of blood have made the ink vanish.
The view: a young blonde. A gun is tucked in the back of her belt, no attempt of hiding it. It is just as old as the car is, and therefore at least twice the age of their owner. Her face is not visible - she stands with the back to the car, hair falling in front of her face. Keys are clenched into her fist, ripping skin off. She doesn't seem to notice.
The object: A simple grave. On the stone: a name, a short period of time. The image of two cinema tickets.
She hates this town.
//I lose track of where your muse ends and where you being. YOUR OOC DOESN'T DIFFER ANYMORE. How. I know you as a very calm and shy girl. And then there's Eddie. How did this happen.
OutOfWit
Lies. All lies, Benny, all lies.
I’ve always been this way. A-l-w-a-y-s.
Also I think you mean "begin".
// In regards towards this (x)
I'm sort of a quiet speaker and I hate my voice. Deal with it.
Also random Skype.
Accents?
//Gosh darn it, Benny. That was days ago. You stalker.
5/5
00:00:00 [AU thingy?]
Cuthbert Allgood had always been a romantic guy. Even if it didn’t seem through all his jokes sometimes, he had quite a heart for those things. And why wouldn’t he? The young ladies in Gilead that just started on getting interested in guys talked about him a lot, he knew that and grinned brightly whenever he approached them. He had broken more hearts - not on purpose, never on purpose - to the age of fourteen than most did in their whole life.
Alain always told him to cut it, he didn’t know just what effect he had, but the dark haired just grinned at him and waved him off.
So the whole concept of soul mates fascinated him, and actually, his clock didn’t read that many years after all.
And then the tet was forced to go to Hambry, and that pretty much fell together with his clock’s countdown. Roland’s had one that was a bit shorter than his, and when he returned to their camp the evening before they would enter the town, he grinned at his friend.
“‘s zero, right? You gotta tell me all about them. Come on. Is it a girl? I was always a bit envious I wasn’t your mate, you know that. We’re just conneeeected.”
But Roland shushed him, and didn’t answer him any questions, so he had to deal with it.
And they were invited the next day, not as Cuthbert Allgood but as Arthur Heath, and under that name, he met her.
Susan Delgado.
His clock counted down to zero.
And how would he know that sometimes, destiny wasn’t all that nice to you? That it wasn’t always mutual? Because Roland and Susan were meant together, and he fell in love with the girl of his best friend.
And he hated himself for it.
