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Literature Text
A future ordained
is millions lost,
stories cut short in the decision
to only follow one path,
take one route
and never double back
or even glance down
the multitude of others
spreading from the crossroads.
A natural thing,
because time isn't
infinite,
or reusable,
and most of the time,
there are no second chances.
What would happen
if there could be, though?
What would happen
if a prophecy fulfilled
was subverted
by a second chance?
The road unwalked
now becomes
the only unknown,
and the unknown seems
to be a lure,
for the unwise traveller.
But perhaps
the one given a second chance
would be the wiser
for the first time around,
so would they turn
to a new path,
or walk the safe, known one?
is millions lost,
stories cut short in the decision
to only follow one path,
take one route
and never double back
or even glance down
the multitude of others
spreading from the crossroads.
A natural thing,
because time isn't
infinite,
or reusable,
and most of the time,
there are no second chances.
What would happen
if there could be, though?
What would happen
if a prophecy fulfilled
was subverted
by a second chance?
The road unwalked
now becomes
the only unknown,
and the unknown seems
to be a lure,
for the unwise traveller.
But perhaps
the one given a second chance
would be the wiser
for the first time around,
so would they turn
to a new path,
or walk the safe, known one?
Literature
The Clock
The dials spun counter clockwise back into time on a large old wooden chime clock. It's broad base stands mighty on the floor, made of dark auburn thick heavy oak wood. It towers in an unknown living room. Looking left of the megalithic clock upon the hallway against a beige wall, there is an opening into a kitchen with a dining room table and dining set not unusual in any typical household. In front of the clock is a bland white couch made of coarser thread and to the right of the couch is a living room TV set spanning across a 5 foot wall ending close to where the kitchen begins on the adjacent wall. It is as you would suspect, a typical li
Literature
Never Forgotten
You are pushing...
Trying to erase...
But you refuse to wipe away those words that rest gentle on the lines.
You can't do it.
They are written in pen.
You won't rip the well designed paper either.
You will have to paint over those honest words.
You will always know that underneath those vibrant colours lies a hidden script.
A secret code that whispers in your sleep.
You have become a spy.
Undercover, in your own world.
What are you searching for?
Is it your treasure which you have tucked away?
Hopefully you will find that which you have intentionally lost,
And at its appearance,
You will forget the tears you shed,
And once again remember
Literature
Somewhere in Time
In a fickle world, in a town that was forever reinventing itself, the shop was a constant. It had presided over the corner of Abbott Street and Lillian Lane for nearly a century and a half. There had been subtle changes, of course, but they were minimal compared to the upheaval that had taken place in the pastoral town around it. It was not, Kael realized, so pastoral anymore. He marvelled wistfully at the transformation as he drove through the outskirts towards the shop… where Lorelei would be waiting. She always was.
Where once there had been rolling meadows and farmland, now Kael sped past pool supply stores, fast food joints,
Suggested Collections
Another prize for the winners of the Fairy Tale contest run by IrrevocableFate and DreamingAutumn , this time for Charmed-Ravenclaw , who placed third. She requested a poem about a prophecy. I did kind of follow the prompt, if you look closely... 
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