Sakinaliak

The sound of her sketching on her pad is like music. I'm lying across the couch we are sharing with my legs over her thighs. It's nice to just relax and listen to her work. It's comforting when she uses my legs as a makeshift table - a gentle pressure that let's me know she's still hard at work. *** I love to sit here, with her legs draped over mine, listening to her breathe. It's serene. I could sit and sketch her forever. Every time I draw her it feels like I'm doing it for the first time. She thinks I'm working, and I was, until I noticed I hadn't caught her sleeping yet. Now was my chance. Her breathing has evened out and her face was

It's so strange swimming like this. It something that I never thought would be possible. In the deepest depths of the ocean, my lantern still works. I only remember the ship, battered and broken by pirates - fiends of the sea. I thought I was going to die. Maybe I've been given a chance to live on... But for what reason? A light. I swim towards it - what I now believe to be the direction of the sky. I break through the top of the gently swaying sea. I can't breathe. Back under I go, gasping for whatever it is that my body now craves. Water. I've been condemned to a watery grave. A school of brightly coloured, glowing fish swim by.

She lay in a field of different shades of gold and brown. The breeze as soft as a loving kiss on her cheek, the sun's warmth as comforting as drinking warm soup out of a mug on a rainy day. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing almost undetectable. --- I was on my way home and I decided to take a short cut through the wheat fields. No one really liked coming through here because the fields are supposed to be haunted. I don't believe in that stuff. Or, at least, I didn't. I saw a woman lying in the fields that day. Her beauty was that of the heavens. I never had been good at talking to girls though I suppose the woman in the fields was desp

Spin out. Stop. Spin in. Stop. The room is bright. I look at my partner's face. Clearly feeling out of place, but she was trying anyway. The violent, excited music slows. Slows to the calm that starlight can bring. She is looking more comfortable now. Both hands move to rest on my waist. Mine shift to her shoulders. She still looks uncomfortable. I stare straight at her so I can catch her gaze. Her eyes flicker up from the ground and I smile as warmly as I can. She blushes and rests her head on my shoulder, embarrassed, but at least she has relaxed. I rest my head on hers. She tenses up again, but only a little, which is an improvement.

I feel I am being held captive, Like a beautiful bird in a small iron cage. I feel a red hot anger within me, Like a crazy bull in a blind rage. I feel I am in constant, spinning turmoil, Like a delicate butterfly in a swirling tornado. I feel as though I am lost in limbo, Like a condemned angel without a halo. Then it passes, And a tinkling sound fills the room, Kind of like good friends toasting, Gently banging each others' glasses.

BANG. He died right in front of me then and there. I did not want him to die for me. Back in Amestris to gain something you had to give something of the same value. This is called equivalent exchange. I sat in his old room, leaning on his bed. As remembered him, small tears dripped slowly off my cheeks. ** "Edward, if you don't get moving soon, the guys will kill us for being late. Again." I simply rolled over and pretened to sleep. I knew what he'd do to 'wake me up'. He sat slowly and carefully on my bed as though he was trying not to wake me. I felt the mattress move as he leaned forward, his breath was warm on my cheek. "Wake up, Ed