Exclusive Ink

Tag: kyla

  • THE RIDDLE

    by KYLA

    I could be green, yellow, or red, or brown.
    I could have fur, scales, blubber.
    I am a peaceful creature; kind and tamed.
    If you tick me off, I’ll go insane.
    I am a loving treasure, rare or not,
    I might hide in a cave or under a rock.
    I am an insect or mammal, reptile or fish.
    I am often captured, tamed, or served on a dish.
    I am an air breather or water inhaler,
    I am a beast, pet, or bird.
    I could eat vegetables or meat or all.
    I could migrate at the end of fall.
    I am ancient or young.
    I am weak or strong.

    I have had my home destroyed.
    I have become a human pet.
    I am wild or tamed.
    I am intelligent or lame.
    I see everything or nothing at all.

    What am I?

     

  • END OF WORLD

    by KYLA

    The world is ending, which means I have
    either succeeded or failed in my mission. This also
    means that a war is coming. A war that will make
    Earth its battle ground. Most of
    everyone we know has died and some of us are still alive.
    This means that we must come together as one. It means that
    a deadly evil has come for us, but he will not succeed.
    Everyone must come together in a circle surrounding
    our world and fight against this evil. There is no
    silver lining this time. All there is left is to fight for the rainbow
    or silver lining of whatever future awaits us. This life may not
    be our last. Like cats, we may have many lives. We may come back.
    We may have to fight again. If you have reached the end of this,
    it means I will no longer be with you in flesh, I am standing
    with you in your hearts.

  • RAINBOW PENS

    by KYLA

    Rainbow, rainbow. Where be my rainbow? Locked away in clear quartz until the clouds came, until rain waters the earth. Until the sun shines again.

    Rainbow, where have you gone. You were once warm like fire. You once shined like the sun. Now the darkness clouds you, suppressing your power to bring paradise. Black clouds cast an everlasting rain, so the sun can’t bring the rainbow.

    All that remains is a clear quartz with my rainbow trapped inside until the clouds go. Until the rain stops. Until the sun shines again. But the sun will die and his beloved the rainbow will die with him. The clouds bring darkness and sadness. The stars mourn for the rainbow’s death.

    A new light casts away the clouds. He is the moon, the reincarnation of the sun. The rainbow lives, but she is bound to earth in its puddles of antifreeze. Now leaky cars create the rainbow. The moon is no longer needed.

    The black new moon reigns the night with its dark clouds and endless rain. This is where my rainbow lies, its purity trapped in clear quartz.

  • THE SECOND SILENT HILL

    by KYLA 

    The darkness, the siren, the blood
    crackling down like rawhail, distancing the fire of each victim’s cry.
    The peeling of pain and the production of suffocating dust.
    Luxurious, yet frightening.
    The echoing of former conversations, the memory of past bench trials,
    the raging image of accusations
    swirling around.
    The scythe,
    the shadow,
    the victims,
    the blood.
    Ghostly figures dance along the very memory of living, the flashback of each slaughter.
    The disappearance of each….then, the thick silence of lost time.

     

  • WITNESS ISLAND

    by KYLA

    It is more than just an island. It is like Harry Potter’s cloak as it disappears behind the cloudy fog. It is a hunting place, surrounded by futile cries. Every time someone is invited, they never return. The authorities have investigated it many times. SOme of them disappeared as well. The officers return with blood stained uniforms. Each officer sits in jail for a conviction of murder. The rain melts any evidence and the old manor remains. A dark shadow clouds it constantly, craving the taste of the red, cursed soup that spills before the ground.

    There are no caves, only the manor. There isn’t a trap nor hiding place, only a shadow. Nothing but thin air, yet death is clawing at the foggy curtains that surround the island. Yet, not a scream nor tear pierces the atmosphere.