Well, I began this soon after finishing Amira, but sort of got stalled on it. I just couldn't seem to get back into the story. However, I tried again today, and it seemed to flow easily. Here it is, and I hope ya'll enjoy it! Also, I thought I had made the name Amira up, but I looked it up and found that it's some sort of Arabic name (I think). But it's pronounced differently. Instead of Uh-my-ruh (my pronunciation), the Arabic one is pronounced AH-meer-uh.

Amira

Part 2

Why did the ocean
fling me back upon her shores?
I thought it was for an eternity
that I was drowned
beneath her seaspray,
hurricane of consequence,
To now be reborn
and lift this chalice of life
again to these feeble lips.

My mother, the earth,
dust of my dust
limestone cliffs
of my calcified bones,
chlorophyll of my blood,
sunshine of my heartbeat,
welcome me again,
as you did before,
and take me to your breast
as an infant born again
from your womb.

Until he showed up at the ALIVE music festival this summer, I thought Kris Allen wrote only generic, sappy-but-clean girlfriend&breakup songs. I figured that any Christian with a strong witness probably wouldn’t have won American Idol.
I judge people on very little information, and yes, that’s a flaw, even if I justify it with James 4:4 and passages like it. In Kris Allen’s case, I have to make a lukewarm exception for “Live Like We’re Dying.”
Yeah, we gotta start
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given

Off Stage

you almost were
and then you weren't.
before the lights went up,
you disappeared.
on Friday
a full house
the first night
of what could have been
many more.

we held our breath
and everyone's hearts pounded
when the stage
empty
naked
alone
appeared before us
with no one to usher us in
to that fantasy world of yours

you had no other,
no one could play your part

gone was the magic,
the echo of the heart

 Hello, everyone! I'm back, with a short story set in my fantasy world, in the country of Relastin. I hope ya'll like it, but please feel free to criticize it (constructively, of course!). And forgive the bad poetry, as I'm not much of a poet, but felt as though I had to include those verses in it. Oh, and Amira is pronounced (Uh-my-ruh).

AMIRA

I stood quietly by the bedside, now and then dipping a cloth in a basin of water and placing it on Orren's forehead. He tossed feverishly and muttered something which sounded like,

Alone.

{Okay, so I don't usually write fiction. It just dosen't really work out for me. But I was writing today, and I think it turned out okay. Please let me know what you think! I haven't done much editing yet, so forgive the slightly sloppy quality. Thanks!}

One might say it was ironic, but he did not find it funny.

The wind swept over hallowed ground as darkness lay upon the earth. How ironic that his last glimpse of freedom was a graveyard.

Her hand was cold in his. He looked into her icy cold eyes and knew what he felt must be true.  The only human he'd ever loved had bound him into servitude.

Inspired by a video at the FiveSixteen Film Festival