Hi!

I founded a literary review earlier with a few of Prose’s most talented (y’all are amazing @Moonsinger128, @friendly_cynic, @chainedinshadow) as editors, and we would love it if you could submit to us!

https://linktr.ee/charmolypilit

We have no themes or word count restrictions - feel free to write about whatever you’re passionate about! Although our main focus is children, writers of any age can submit.

Thank you!

and we weave flowers like precious secrets into

crowns of our destiny, fit for a king and a queen

(or a queen and a queen), and let their nectar

dribble down our chins, painting our fate with sugar

coated sweetness (and i brush her lips with

mine to wipe the dew drops when they kiss our

hearts with false promise)

in a family of hyacinths stained pure white like

halos around our heads, a pair of cerulean roses

blooms (bold in newfound diversity), born from

the roots of her garden (the garden that i had gifted

her on our third anniversary) and flourished much

stronger than its petaled persona

unbecoming at first glance (like the stamen weaving

our hands and fates as one), these shades of the

ocean are, popping out of the ordinary, yet their

boldness sprinkle beauty and elegance about our

halos

and while not ordinary, these shades are no longer

unordinary, but extraordinary

(if only the same could be said about us)

------

notes:

wow i posted something decent without a one month hiatus. go me.

the stars in the sky don’t wait for me; this innocence

curls around caramel arms like vines and curses to

forever stretch stretch stretch into hues of cerulean and

lilac, desperate to brush celestial constellations with

fingertips tingling of anxiety and stolen hope, only to have

its stardust seep through fingers like molten gold and

broken dreams / the stars in the sky don’t let me quit; this

innocence finds them next in midnight eyes, laced with

mascara from the inky skies, with stars that shimmer

like galaxies through the shadows curling around

in a cold embrace, and for once, the stardust seeping

through fingers comfort the caramel / the stars in

the sky like to taunt me; this innocence doesn’t know that

all stars soon burn out, and caramel curls around burnt oak,

desperate for midnight to appear just once, fingertips

tingling with hope of one small speck of stardust, but /

the stars in the sky don’t answer my prayers;

It’s about time they let me grace the Earth again. The world was needing a little more pizazz, and lucky for them, I’ve got it.

But unfortunately for planet Earth, my time here is only a mere hour. 60 minutes. 3600 seconds. And while the world is in desperate need of entertainment, I cannot waste my precious time here for them because after this one hour, it’s back to heaven for me.

---

People say I’m pessimistic and ungrateful that way, that I don’t value my time on Earth and that’s why it ended so quickly. (Pro tip: We heaven-ees can still hear what you say about us. You may want to hold your tongue, Mrs. Channing.) There was one person who never said that though, who accepted me for who I am and loved me. And as her name tattooed on my pale skin catches my eyes, I know what I’m supposed to do in this one hour.

---

Perhaps it should be a problem walking on public sidewalks like a normal human being after being pronounced dead six months ago, but nothing has changed since then. People never noticed me then, and people don’t notice me now. As I drag my leather boots against the pavement to bring attention myself, I’m met with turned backs and distracted eyes. And perhaps it’s better this way.

---

It’s good nothing had changed since then. She’s still as gorgeous as ever, with ebony hair waiting for me to curl with my finger and rosy lips begging to slap mine against. She makes me want to stand there forever, to bask in the light radiating from her mere presence, but I stop myself. For I only have a half hour until I return to heaven, and I need her for much longer than that.

---

She’s sitting on her bed, reading “The Tale of Desperaux”. It’s her favorite book, despite its intended audience being fifteen years younger than her. I like that about her, how she’s unashamed of her childishness. It’s part of why I need her. I think now’s the best time, though, so I take out what’s hiding in my back pocket.

---

The sunlight reflects silver onto the dusty pages of her book, and before she can look up to see why, a knife plunges into her stomach. Crimson pours out, smearing the words and staining her bedsheets, and she stares at me in horror, wondering if it’s her imagination I’ve returned.

---

But it’s not.

---

She begs me to take out the knife and take her to a hospital, to get her treated so she can stay on the land of the living.

---

But I don’t.

---

For I only have a few minutes until I return to heaven, and now, she can join me.

00:00

And forever we will be together.

I painted my future black and white.

I'd pass high school and graduate at a nearby community college. I'd marry whoever my family chooses for me. Not a fancy wedding, but a quick exchanging of the rings in front of my house with only close family watching. I'd spend the rest of my life in the hilltops of my hometown with my spouse and both of our families. It was a simple life. A simple life for a simple girl.

And my black and white fantasy had become reality. We opened a small floral shop, my spouse and I. We passed the day there, I handing out flowers and my spouse trying to ignore their allergies. We passed the night in our house of twenty, playing games and having movie nights. It was a simple life. A simple life for a simple girl, and nothing could be better.

Or at least, that's what I thought. Soon, my black and white life was asking for more. Wake up, open the shop, run the shop, close the shop, go home, have some family time, sleep. This daily routine was starting to become a cycle, a never-ending chore. And I was getting tired of it.

That is, until you came along. It was a rainy night when you opened that door and took a step inside. You looked at us, huddled around Monopoly, and clicked your tongue. With a flick of your finger, you gave me what I was missing. Color. You splattered every inch of my life with color.

A color.

Red.

and each heart you crush

like a frail rose

i’ll collect their petals

for someday

i’ll string them together

into dauntless roses

and you’ll be their thorns

not everyone can have

fairytale endings

* * * * * *

im slipping into a pit of insanity

please hold on to me tight

so i can pull you down with me