Tory's Works

[II Bob-The-Blob II]

Butterflies

Schuyler Force, you're a goddamn butterfly, and someday you're going to fly away. Just don't leave me hanging.

The sky was the perfect favorite midnight color, with inky clouds painted here and there, stars sprinkled around. In some places, the darkness was interrupted by another color, fluttering, barely visible in the cloak of darkness. Butterflies, twitching their way towards who knows where. They had a very lacking life, the butterflies, and they didn't seem to mind. They peacefully lay to rest whenever the time came, whether the job was done or not. Peacefully, they let it go.

If only I could be the same.

With Sylvia, my love, at my side, I was dying. My heart was failing me, for the first time. It was giving up, leaving me here to fight the battles it should have defeated long before. Now I was left with nothing but a rotting heart, weak bones, and the love of my life. I felt as if that should be enough for me, just to have love at my side, and being able to feel the pain. But it wasn't, it only filled up half of my greedy self. I needed more, and the worst part was, I couldn't even suggest to the Universe what I wanted, in particular. I just expected what I didn't know I wanted to come to my waiting palms.

We lay there in the tall grass, two innocent girls in a backyard, staring up at the perfect midnight, and dust of stars. Our fingers were intertwined, and the last twinge of summer still lingered on our tongues. She was beautiful, laying there next to me, the moonlight making her every pore glow like fairy dust. We were so still, there in the tall grass; the midnight air hugged us like an old friend. We each listened to each others' breath, as it went in through the lips, and out through the nostrils. It was so simple, and so profound.

Then a surprise occurred, and it was a peaceful, perfect surprise. One butterfly had been brave enough to flit down from its house in the sky, and was now quite close to my face. I held my breath, staring at it, barely even daring to blink. And softly it landed atop my nose. Sylvia gasped quietly, grinning from ear to ear. I managed to find her in my peripheral vision. Neither of us dared speak, for the delicate beauty of the butterfly was easily scared away.

More gathered now, as if the one on my freckled nose had called to her friends, and family. They were all slowly flying down, towards my slim body. Sylvia's hand began to slide away from mine, as if she were going to ruin it. She was such a modest girl. But I grabbed it back, keeping her with me. They all landed on my body, scattering themselves about, on my stomach, legs, face, and arms. They were magical, these creatures. Suddenly, I realized this was enough. Sylvia, my aching bones, and a failing heart. It was simply that in my head now. Nothing more than Sylvia.

And my heart gave up then. My soul left my body, leaving it cold in the grass, and the butterflies took it gently in their waiting arms. And then - wishing to give her at least a kiss goodbye - I left Sylvia hanging, and the creatures slowly fluttered off, my soul in hand, and an extra butterfly in their herd.

<3

Note:
Hope you don't have a problem with a Lesbian romance.

 

[II Bob-The-Blob II]

Here is my first fizzle. (: Hope you like it.

No Sleep

Eyes the color of the Atlantic, belonging to none other than Clarissa Miles, were still focused on the dirty bottle. The bottle may have once been a holder for alcohol, or for a small, handmade boat. The past purpose of it meant nothing now, thanks to the sparks and bright lacework of electricity now residing inside the dirty glass. It never stopped cracking and fizzling. Yes, one experiment gone right and you never got any sleep again. The dreams long lost kept calling to you, but your eyelids were so resistant, they refused to slowly flutter closed, like they used to in the comforting darkness.Hair the color of chocolate now tangled, torn from its once beautiful appearance. Curls were now scraggly locks, unable to be combed. Magic was a tough business, wasn’t it? It tore everything from its former beauty, and took over the soul.

The only beauty now, in this rundown, dirty lab, was the lighting sparking and fizzling in the dirty glass bottle. The scientist's fingers had been working and twitching, and her cracked, waterless lips had been forming spell after spell for hours on end. Finally, there were bright strings of electricity forming inside the bottle, an endless, cloudless storm of success. Nothing could get the woman's eyes to close, even though with a sensible mind, she knew going to sleep was inevitable, sometime. Yet, her mind was not completely sensible, now was it? Being a magician and a scientist was even more confusing than just being a magician. Of course, no one believed in such a profession. All they did was accept the fact she did things, and was not a complete dimwit.

A draft from the broken window was all that came from the outside world. The only thing that kept the scientist from freezing to death was the fabricated thermostat inside her head. The whole lab might as well be fabricated, for all the woman cared. She wouldn't mind if she was in Africa, or on Jupiter. The smile on her lips was the first, and only smile on Clarissa Miles ever to be seen, and all because of the bottle. The dirty, former beer bottle that now held the one thing she had been searching for. Home made light.

A manic cackle managed to escape from the scientists' reluctant, rusty vocal chords. It was too loud, and she had yet to notice the skittish murmurs outside the wooden door, which was heat-sealed, so the cold didn't bother the poor old hallway. At least, that was what the thoughts in Clarissa's head said. It was really to protect the scientist from ever hearing these murmurs, which were seemingly always outside of her door. The murmurs then grew louder, and louder, and the manic cackle ceased all too suddenly. Her eyes grew wide, and the murmurs were now echoing through her mind. She clutched at her ears, clawing at them, as if if she tore them off, the sound would go away. Just as she was about to close her eyes for the first time in hours, the Atlantic colored orbs fixed upon the bottle. The lacework lighting had vanished.

Clarissa Miles' eyes opened, as she gasped, subconsciously clutching her ears, and she saw the whitewashed walls of her home. She had been dreaming.