𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉, 𝖚𝖓-𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊

(𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫—𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥)

 Possibly.

Maybe.
Not entirely.
With his head buried in his hands, Isaiah was near admitting defeat—something he rarely did.
The buzz of his old radio became whirring white noise, the commercial voice of the announcer tuned to a mumble.
He glanced up, eyes immediately darting to the phone that sat idly on his wooden desk.
Outrageous…
Isaiah could try to be angry, but a flash of those sweet doe eyes only made his heart jump.
Completely miserable to the mere thought of her, a slave to her name— a dog chasing a bone.
Orange glints of the late afternoon sun danced over his desk—her, again…
She enjoyed ice skating, didn’t she?
A wry smile filled his perpetually tired eyes with a warm gaze. Turning his neck to stare out the window, he wished to see her there.
To balance on her tippy-toes and waving erratically through the window with a childish grin muted giggles.

The day he realized this wasn’t just a pesky, frivolous fling, would be the day she appeared through the glass, awaiting his smile.

(𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉)

Comments

Post a Comment

𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿

𝖉𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖑𝖞

(𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐧) Wiggle, Writhe, Scream! A rat to the pointed blade of a master. Only fools could misinterpret my actions as malice. I upheld a standard—one their feeble, ignorant minds could not comprehend. (𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉)
Read more

𝖊𝖌𝖔 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗

 (𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞) Im-possible! As if! Am I some joke? A scowl overlapped by usual apathetic expression, a low scoff growled from my throat. Advisors stood before me, antsy and worrisome under my scathing gaze—an iron to sore skin.  They commanded the imposible, the idea of sweet summer bliss.  Fools. I employed fools! Incompetent, Lackluster, Idiotic Jesters. Peace was as millions of soft, endearing kisses.  I never liked kisses—nor physical affection. (𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉)
Read more

𝖊𝖌𝖔 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉

 (𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭) How I sat upon my throne, though chipped and unpolished, was still a lit to my existence. A life that shan't be forgotten.   I’d carve myself back into history, repurpose and rekindle these old buildings to their former glory.  I was yet to be defeated in any battle, though old tellers would say I ran from the battlefield, they had no say in my marvel. I reshaped humanity to my fist, and yet all has changed to worsened days with my absence. Trade now flourishes but without my command uprisings seem of interest. I was the sole controller, but now I’ve been discarded for these feeble minded rulers with nothing but pretty mouths. Why conquer with speech when a war cry can project the same message? Insolent in their rule, they know nothing of battle and the euphoria of slaughter. Such unbearing men don’t showcase the true potential I unlocked. The inhabitants of these kingdoms are blind to their ...
Read more