Weekly Art: Cross Bone


Lying in the midst of all the Dust to blow,

Sand is coming, so with History I’ll go.

There’s bound to be a way to keep this,

This Life in my hands.

There’s bound to be a way to keep this,

On my Cross Bone.


Should’ve listened to my Elders before I flew here,

A Place that I’d been told would hold the worst of my Fears.

There’s bound to be a way to keep this,

This Life I know.

There’s bound to be a way to keep this,

On my Cross Bone.


When I bow down to a Greater Force than me,

I’ll know that I am stronger when set Free.

And now, I’ll rust away the World’s bones.

When there is only one heart on the Cross Bone.


The Sound of Bones Cracking (a Darkening plot)


via Daily Prompt: Sound

He flicked his wrist and slammed the Rebellion soldier’s shadow against the white wall. Seconds later, the soldier’s body followed. He did this a couple more times until the wall was smeared with the red from the soldier’s previous wounds and he heard the satisfying crack of something breaking. Then he stopped and settled his hand.

The soldier slumped limply to the ground, breaths coming in rasping coughs. The Darkling Prince stepped forward and knelt in front of him, one hand on the ground- just in case. The soldier’s eyes were shut tight and his chest was quivering with the effort of just breathing.

“Had enough?” said the Prince. “Where is she?”

The Rebellion soldier coughed once and met the Prince’s red eyes fearfully, but defiantly. “You’re a Darkling now, aren’t you?” he muttered. “Go find her yourself.”

The soldier was instantly flung across the corridor and slammed onto the opposite wall, resulting in a gasp and more bones cracking.

The Prince lowered his hand and stood. “Your stubbornness or loyalty or whatever wasting my time right now is useless. Don’t try to be a hero, Underling.”

“Like you? I wouldn’t dream of it.” The soldier stayed on the ground, partly because he could no longer sit up and partly because he was waiting for another run in with a wall.

The wall never came- instead, the Darkling Prince smiled and said, “Me? A hero?”

Laughing softly, he bent down over the soldier, his red eyes taking a dimmer shade of brown. He sighed, almost tiredly. “I’m not a hero. Let me just get one thing straight before you die.”

The soldier’s eyes widened but the Prince didn’t seem to notice. “She’s the hero now. Actually, June has always been the hero, has been since the day she entered the Dark World through the door that I myself opened. She still is now, I bet. If you were to put this entire war in a book, she would be the heroine. I’m just the friend who turns out to be the enemy, the traitor in their midst.”

The Prince stared into thin air for a moment, lost in thought. A small cough from the soldier brought him back to the real world and he looked down at the Underling.

“But of course, in books, especially those about war, people die.” His eyes took on their original sinister red glow. “People like you.”

The frantic screaming enveloped the Changing House, drowning out the nasty sounds of bones cracking.