TAG: You're It

Bag of Bones

Deep under the earth, the clock knows no bounds. Rotting in chains, awaiting the devil's hounds. Sweltering in the soil so close. The one to call, flaming and gross. Spells abound, mumbled and cursed. Spat from scaly lips, tightly pursed. Should the ground split, part open or ply. Hell will give birth, demons will fly. She cannot be set free from earth or stone. For she will come calling, she lives for your bones.

Hostage sample

 

Ivy glanced into the smoky spot light and grinned. It didn't even bother her that her heels were now stained with beer. In front of the mic was where she belonged. Even if it was in front of 86 over worked, drunken slobs.

Her fingers rolled over the taught strings of her guitar and she took a deep breath....

~Kara Stefanowich 'Hostage'

The Escape

 

She struggled to get to her feet. Her back was killing her and her knees were bleeding.

She squinted as she looked around. It was dark here, always so dark. She hadn't seen the sun in days. Everything here was so strange. She began to wonder how long she' been adrift.

She looked out over the purple sea to find that same moon that had followed her throughout the darkness.... #art #inspiration

~Kara Stefanowich

Love and War

 

He looked down at his hands. Closing his eyes tightly, he focused on the details of what he knew he had to do.

It was always a struggle. Being born into a world of war. Never having a family, never having friends, it made him crazy. What was it for if not for love or happiness?

He opened his eyes and looked through the fiery clouds beneath his feet. For peace, he thought. It was all for peace. ...

He used his sub angelic powers to see through the ash and smoke to the mortals millions of miles below.

What a waste of life. He glanced from place to place, from one end of the earth to the next. They're given everything they need to flourish and still they choose to self destruct. He clenched his fists and bowed his head in sadness....

 

~Kara Stefanowich

Forsaken

 

Even as his heart beats no more, he burns with ache of love lost. Not death nor hell can dig their claws so deep as this. His gray skin, already cold with decay is pummeled by tears from heaven. He is forsaken. He is not allowed.

The Old House

 

Blustery winds assaulted the shutters. They beat against the windows as if insisting they be let in. The glass clattering in the frame rang down the halls. The silence in between clatters sent chills through the rooms. Cobwebs floated in the air, dust stained the floors and shadows swayed on the walls, in a slow dance with darkness...

~Kara Stefanowich