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My breathing became agony. That damn agony separated my body from my brain, making it impossible for me to move. The rain pushed me harder to the ground falling to my bare bloody opened flesh in my stomach when I realized it was over.
I couldn't do anything. Just watch how that man with his hair raised up in a spike gave his last glance at me, spitting to the ground before turning around. It was odd, seeing you insulting yourself like that. Like the taste of your own damn medicine. Worst of all, he stole my rightful place. It should have been me the one how looked down to a soon-be-dead-body on the ground. Me the one who scoffed disappointed in that guy's low potential. I, Kenpachi Zaraki, of all the Captains the strongest, how could I let this happen?
Nevertheless, he was stronger.
I never though that I would die to the likes of myself.
The intensity of me wanting to move my fingers and grab my Zanpak-to increase like the rain that kept me attached to the ground. My
Beautiful and SolitaryBeautiful and Solitary
Chapter One: The truth
The Council of the Captains was aligned just for me that morning. I had to present my report in front of them all, all covered up in wounds because there was no time for treatment. The Old Man was desperate to hear what I was about to say about the mission. So I knelt in front of him with my Haori touching the wooden floor with some of my blood. The thing was I heard an anonymous hiss beside me, as if the absent agony that should been in me had moved on to another person. I didn't have to look to know that it was the Captain of that Healing Squad, she always stood there. Besides she always smelled like Herbs and Incense, and so it has been since the first time I saw her since I first joined the Squads.
She was all so different. I've heard that she's the strongest of all the Captains right after the Old Man, so she had this privilege to questionize the Old Man's orders every now and then. She always talked about the innocent and our priority
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More