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VixensPrettyCorpse — Deviant ID
Published: 2008-03-18 12:15:58 +0000 UTC; Views: 1316; Favourites: 25; Downloads: 43
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Description
>.< just a boring portrait.Related content
Comments: 2
Thy gaze is affixed upon the tip of your red right shoe and the same hand wraps your pink skirt tight about your thighs so that you might gaze upon the beauty of the sparkling crimson. Then all at once you are brought to a lonely place, therein you find yourself walking upon a shoreline utterly alone. The sand is white and even, not a print of any feet have marked the beach in a great age. Clouds align themselves as guardians of the sun, the single star remains blocked behind them. The waves creep eerily, cresting only inches above the scattered shells and...
All at once, far off in the distance, upon the brink of becoming invisible forever underneath the surf a body lies motionless. You recognize him instantly, though your eyes have never befallen him, it is the hero you've waited for. With all haste you fly towards him, glittering red shoes falling off in the greatest dash of your life. As you approach you see that he is haggard. His skinny teal armour jeans are tattered and his tunic marked 'all rise for justice,' is torn. He is an image of his former glory, though not by confidence did he roam the world in search of you. No, he sought you under a guise of courage draped in a decrepit chivalry, for his life was an appeasement of suffering to resurrect virtue from it's apathetic 21 century ending.
Your brow furrows with rage! But why, is it at the one who lies before you, a chance meeting here on the lonely isle, which seems to be your first and only glimpse of him? No, it is at the sun whose aid is resigned to stay behind a cloud of corporate dust, ash and soot, an un-pardoning symbol of a former dream. In that moment, again looking down on the curly locked rugged lad whose septum ring of gauge four seems to have been torn out, you summon all your poweress and pull him up the beach.
Half way up you stop, kneel down with his head in your lap. The sands of time alter and the sun's trap is relinquished and for a moment it illuminates his face... A smile dancing upon the edge of his lips... The door bell rings and you're all together befuddled in a haze of shimmering red, a buzz and a loud knock. Whoever is at the door, seems impatient.
Ps. All of the above was written in the moment out from the photo.
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