~007-TypeWriter
L.E. Swanson
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Remember YouI remember you, just like I said I would. And I remember when you left. “Do you think you’ll remember me?” you said. “Of course I will,” I answered. “How could I not?” You just nodded and walked away. That was the day you found it. That was the day you opened the drawer before I could get home. I was never any good at getting anywhere on time. You always yelled at me for it. Guess I should have paid more attention. Mostly, though, what I remember is the phone conversation that day.Remember You
My cell phone rang. I was driving. I went fumbling around in the duffle bag in the passenger’s seat next to
by ~007-TypeWriter
NOT Sovereign BloodMy Love, I’m sorry I did not return home to you when I promised. I write you this letter from a prison in Buenos Aires, where, as you know, I had intended on staying only a few nights with an old friend. I did see him of course – I could not let a trip to Argentina pass without seeing such a dear friend - but we parted ways abruptly and on rather remarkably bad terms, and I have to admit that the fault lies with me. When I arrived at his home two months ago, he welcomed me warmly, as I had expected, and once I had settled myself in for my stay, we spent the evening letting our dinner get cold as we talked. Quickly, of course, theNOT Sovereign Blood
by ~007-TypeWriter
Sovereign Blood 15Trystan sat for a moment, considering this. The good thing about this was that Ronan would not have to take any more branches from any more trees, and the trees would be able to recover, well out of harm’s way. The bad thing about it was that no matter what happened, he would always have a supply of this undying poison. The Lord only knew what horrors he could bestow upon the people of Vetri’el. In Trystan’s mind, this was the beginning of an age of ruthless tyranny. “The only way Ronan will run out of his supply of the Sovereign Blood,” Eld’ri’en continued, “is if the vile is emptied completely, and there is no more of the potion to beSovereign Blood 15
by ~007-TypeWriter
Sovereign Blood 14Trystan closed his bedroom door quietly, stepping lightly into the corridor. The whole east side was silent, except for the low drone of Althea’s voice coming from Roslyn’s room, which was right across from Trystan’s. He wondered for a moment what she was saying, but decided pretty quickly that he would rather not know at the moment. He walked the few steps to his parents’ bedroom, where he stopped and hesitated before raising his fist to knock. He took a deep, calming breath before he did so, and by the time he finally worked up the nerve to actually do it, his hand was shaking and the knock was weak. He didn’t dare knock again. His mother wSovereign Blood 14
by ~007-TypeWriter
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Queens, New York
- Interests: writing, writing, aaaand, oh! writing.
- Favourite movie: Moulin Rouge, Goodfellas, Napolean Dynamite
- Favourite band or musician: In Flames, Dave Matthews Band, Michael Jackson
- Favourite genre of music: metal, and rock
- Favourite poet or writer: JK Rowling, Margaret Atwood, Ogden Nash
- Tools of the Trade: laptop, brain, my hands, my imagination
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YEAH BABY!
I searched his full name on google and got here... hi... your book/writing (I'm not sure if this is your book on here) is nice....
okay, I'm feeling kinda lame with nothing to say so eh... bye bye.
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My Poetry Site: ~ShadowsOfSoliloquy
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