Scream out your injustice.
From Create Your Own Story
| (One intermediate revision not shown) | |||
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
| - | The flames lick at your bare feet and you can feel the skin there blistering and then going numb, lifeless. The crowd has become a dull roar in your ears and you have never felt so much rage in your life | + | The flames lick at your bare feet and you can feel the skin there blistering and then going numb, lifeless. The crowd has become a dull roar in your ears and you have never felt so much rage in your life. |
| - | " | + | "WE WERE MATCHMAKERS!" You scream, your throat scratchy and bloody, "WE ONLY EVER WANTED YOU TO FIND LOVE, I ONLY WANTED YOU TO FEEL WHAT I FELT!" And as the words leave your mouth you realize the truth in them. You're a matchmaker because you're in love, and you only wanted to share that with others. You turn frantically to your friend and life-long companion and see the same urgency reflected in her eyes. |
| - | You silently pray you will meet | + | "Maple," "Erybelle," |
| + | |||
| + | The two of you speak each others names at the same time. | ||
| + | |||
| + | "I love you." | ||
| + | |||
| + | Your voices are hoarse from the smoke and your wrists bleeding and raw from the rope rubbing against them but none of that matters. You somehow manage to free your hands and you grab hers without hesitation. You both stay like that, holding hands, for what feels like an eternity but must only be a second or two before your skirts go up in flames. Smoke engulfs your faces and you try to suck in what little oxygen you can before your vision goes completely dark. | ||
| + | |||
| + | You silently pray you will meet each other in the afterlife. Because no matter what happens, she was and will always be your everything. | ||
===Ending: Tragic Love=== | ===Ending: Tragic Love=== | ||
| Line 10: | Line 18: | ||
[[Category:The Shipping Witches]] | [[Category:The Shipping Witches]] | ||
| + | [[Category:Endings]] | ||
Current revision as of 19:18, 17 February 2013
The flames lick at your bare feet and you can feel the skin there blistering and then going numb, lifeless. The crowd has become a dull roar in your ears and you have never felt so much rage in your life.
"WE WERE MATCHMAKERS!" You scream, your throat scratchy and bloody, "WE ONLY EVER WANTED YOU TO FIND LOVE, I ONLY WANTED YOU TO FEEL WHAT I FELT!" And as the words leave your mouth you realize the truth in them. You're a matchmaker because you're in love, and you only wanted to share that with others. You turn frantically to your friend and life-long companion and see the same urgency reflected in her eyes.
"Maple," "Erybelle,"
The two of you speak each others names at the same time.
"I love you."
Your voices are hoarse from the smoke and your wrists bleeding and raw from the rope rubbing against them but none of that matters. You somehow manage to free your hands and you grab hers without hesitation. You both stay like that, holding hands, for what feels like an eternity but must only be a second or two before your skirts go up in flames. Smoke engulfs your faces and you try to suck in what little oxygen you can before your vision goes completely dark.
You silently pray you will meet each other in the afterlife. Because no matter what happens, she was and will always be your everything.
