Blood boiled over, and I could taste the coppery red in my mouth, between my pressed lips and sharp fangs as I stared him down. Something about the way he spoke to me, the arrogant demeanor and change in his confidence shook my own. I was certain something in my mind must've flipped, a switch of some sorts, and I was clenching my fists hard. A few mental images flickered to mind of my hands on his throat, nails digging in and I could almost salivate over the prospect of snapping that thick fucking neck on his twig of a body.

"Jacob," I snarled hotly under my breath.

"So sour," he replied with that lax arrogant tone of his, the one that sent spurts of fire through my body, that made it feel like fire was raining down over my skin in hot sputters as the hair arched on the back of my neck. "You're getting so worked up-"

"Don't." I interrupted him, the rage settling hotly in my blood as I tried to simmer it, to turn the heat down, but my eyes went to his pocket, watching the ring dance between his fingers like a toy. The black one that made my heart go cold, and the bird sing so loud in my heart that I almost felt like I was going to break down in tears. I was certain he saw that change in me, he had to have, because his expression shifted and everything took a turn for the worst.

"I know you loved your brother," Jacob mentioned coolly, pausing the ring between his forefinger and middle to look down at it. "And he meant the world to you. I just wanted to give you a memento back. Something small, since I mean... The rest of him is in pieces."

And I snapped. I don't know what occurred first, the guttural scream or my body flinging forward at him. I remember him dodging out of my newly occupied space as my claws raked down the brick wall. I didn't look to see the tear I'd managed to cut through it, like I was raking my hands through polyester fabric with jagged nails. But I do know that the surprise in his eyes at my speed was caught in those marbled blue eyes, the blue eyes I hated so much.

Snaking over hills,

winding through rivers.

Her hands are the things that deliver.

Death. Life. Reproach of all the emotions laid within.

She plucks on my heartstrings, making me sing with a grin.

Swallowed pride, mouth open wide, I can gaze at her whip.

The one she cracks smooth, the one with my neck at its tip.

When the jaw pried open, gaping hole and wide.

Staring down the dark hollowed center where I'd be buried inside.

Had my wits been so quick, had I not been as sharp.

I'd be swallowed deep within, another of her children's throats.

Still I wander, far and wide, with my foot pressing wide

Flat blades of green under toe.

Until I travel through her wintery snow,

Ever captured, ever lost in her wintery frost.

Lived another sweltered moon,

cold and white, dusted in blue,

To a warm Spring and Summer where life begins anew.

Nature please, love me so, but be more gentle when you come and go.

I am frail, I am weak when I feel I've lost my peak.

I am human, I need much, but I fear to partake in the hunt that you revel,

The one you force us all to indulge fate.

Where the strong live on satiated and the weak are a plenty.

More of food, more to eat, but I am not as meek.

I am human, and I wall off your creativity so to eat,

in my warm hovel home on the now leveled slope.

No more bears, no more lions. Just my old trusty rifle.

Soup in hand, spoon to mouth, no more hard winter travels.

Nature speaks and she keeps knocking on my porch,

breath so shallow.

Waiting here, peaking there in my frosting up windows.

She can have me when I'm old, she can have me when I'm ill,

but I will not partake in her hunting games to give her a thrill.

Pale white in form, her eyes looked hollowed and sunken beneath the textured face. Pasty white would dust off with each unconscious brush of her fingers, but the uncanniness of it all would give me shivers.

"Take off the mask, let me know that it is you." I heard myself say, though my mind was far from my lips, spinning ideas, spinning tales, weaving worthless lies of imagery in queried quips.

"It's just me, silly," Ferrah responded, her voice light and quick. I remember her pulling at the bottom of her chin. Lifting up, tacky sucking as if the mask was plastered on thick, peeling back, while my eyes did a quick little dip.

I found my head dipping, my neck a bow before it jerked back quick. There she was, Ferrah in all her beautiful-faerie-eyed trick. The ghoulish mask of the Forgotten, long left behind in its wispy sick, made me tired as I felt her hands grip my own with an icy prick. I had heard all the stories in my tiny leaf-stitched bed, acorn endcaps, daffodil plumage with a goose down fringe. And when I thought that I'd open my eyes to reveal what was a silly image deep within, my eyes would widen, her teeth would prickly the air with that sharp toothy grin.

And we'd dance, dance down the street in the cold hallowed night, singing our cheer, dancing our dance, letting children scream on our cold, pumpkin night. Pointed ears, sharpened teeth, and beady black eyes. I guess the mask was less scary to the humans with our unnatural guise.

Turn of the moon,

Wrestle the tongue.

Wrestle of white on thickening gums.

Whistling lips from a forked tongue.

Saliva drips on a foaming lung.

Eyes golden brown,

Liquid gold glazed

Yellow that takes in my sound.

In the teaming midnight glaze.

Tearing gaze from the moonlight,

on a harvestful night.

Fitful frights, fitful tears on a Halloween night.

Chuckle of masters of sharp canine teeth.

Let them howl, for they prowl with their hallowed-ass reach.

Claws will dip, fangs will snap.

Clamp and shut over gurgled red throats.

Lifting off in the night with a brush of clawed toes.

Take your breath, take your last,

On this Halloween night.

For the things that shake the bushes will do more than give you a fright.

Drag you off, make you scream, take you into the seem.

Hallowed hands, hollowed eyes with their devilish gleam.

Take your breath, take your last,

On this Hollowed-Ass Night.

Scrape of boots, scrape of nails.

Because you're in a fight.

Glass bottle on table,

Clank of marbled sand against wood.

Stuffed to the brim with pine needles.

Three days later, I would.

I should.

Guzzle the liquid of the sparkling wood.

Plucked from tree tall branches,

Shaken down from the thick brown wood.

Now shaken to the bottom of my bottlecap mold.

Three days later, I would.

I should.

Guzzle the liquid of sparkling wood.

Top off with sugar,

Swish with clean water and settle the bottle.

Contents cool to the touch.

My bottle, oh bottled.

Pressed against my forehead, making my face flush.

Three days later, I would.

I should.

Guzzle the liquid of sparkling wood.

Nature, thy keeper.

My love, my mother.

Share with me the spirit of sparkling wood.

Share with me the sprite of the pine tree wood.

Tipping the glass to his lips, his golden eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. He could hear the glasses clinking across the room as the ice settled into his own cup where his lips pressed tightly around the thin lip of his glass and liquid poured in between the part of his mouth.

"Smooth," Gerald added as he slid in beside him, running a hand over the resin-poured wood countertop until his watch loosely clanked and settled on the surface.

"It is," the golden-eyed man answered, turning his sharp gaze back onto the Lycan beside him. It didn't take much to register the friendly face despite the sour disposition that regularly settled over his mouth, setting his jaw stiff and making him look like he was in some foul-ass mood. No, that was just his regular expression. Shifting the glass at an angle, the ice settled into the corner of the round bottom, clinking softly until he jostled it into a new corner, swishing it around. "I only wish it had the same taste when I was human," he breathed.

"You were never human, Augustus," Gerald grumbled.

"And I never had brown hair and gold eyes," he snorted back in response, "but I figured a change in appearance was in order."

"Oh, I'm sure. Though, if your hair was a little more midnight, you might take on the uncanny appearance of a Tepes."

Something about that didn't set right with him. He knew the history, knew the awful semantics of the continued war within the family and how it turned the rest of the Supernatural society inside-out, but he just couldn't settle with the ideal of being intertangled with it all. "You'd think they'd have retired into the afterlife by now," Augustus answered as he took a long sip of the whiskey from his glass.

"You'd think," Gerald agreed. "But they haven't. The old queen is still alive and kicking, keeping us all in line and I've heard rumors that her bastard of an older brother is lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby. No one wants to go looking for him, but after his last stunt on some of the fresher-type, it's a little bit harder to remain aloof about the search for him since he's now made himself public enemy number one."

"When is someone not on the higher powers shit list?" August grinned into his glass, nearly flashing his fangs as he watched the bartender pass them by.

"Good point."

The two sat quietly at the bar, but the silence didn't last long before Augustus was depositing the cash tip under the cup, shoving himself off the stool and onto the floor. For a man of his stature, he was of more average height, but nothing about the way he carried himself seemed ordinary. He was straight-backed, narrow-eyed, and had eyes that could pierce through the soul no matter how he transformed them. Of course, changing ones appearance was a lost art, but he wasn't exactly any of the fresh blood roaming about. No, he was far older than that. Old enough that you could almost say, he was one of the first generation... Not that he cared what anyone called it. As far as he was concerned, he was a myth, a long-dead ancestor and he liked to keep it that way.

"Gerald," Augustus barked.

"Don't call on me like that," Gerald grumped, coming up behind him. "I'm not your lap dog."

"No, but you fetch good like one when I'm in need."

A wry smile spread over Gerald's plump lips and he smiled for a little moment longer before the tired look hit his eyes. "What do you need?"

"Time." Augustus sighed. "And a little more than usual. Keep Rebecca off my back for a while," he told him. "I'm visiting an old friend who's on his way out of life and I'd like to give him a little peace and quiet."

"Of course," Gerald sniffed, turning his head up as he gazed down at Augustus with those dark brown eyes of his. "I know how you get," he smiled. "A good buddy from the last millennia isn't the same as a little lover's fling." He patted Augustus' shoulder despite the man stiffening up under hand and passed him by. "Can't say I can keep her from sniffing too hard, but I know how to distract a woman on the prowl for a time or two."

"You better," Augustus growled. "I won't have her meddle in my affairs again. I'm tired of her antics."

"Maybe don't turn them if you plan to let them be an ex." Gerald waved before waving off to him.

As Gerald stepped out the heavy door of the Tavern, the door slapped shut with a loud groan and Augustus stood there, lip nearly curling into a snarl, before rubbing his hand down the length of his thin, sharp nose. "If only," he groaned.

-Clockwork Excerpt

A part of her is in essence, mentioned in the most cruelest of labels. 'Evil.' Nevermind the part in which woman was added as another adjective to her description, because it's quite apparent she is no man. No, but evil describes her well, almost perfectly.

If I had not been a cocky man, I might have lived a quieter life.

Unfortunately, I was no such lad.

I had seen her house in the distance, crept around it at the bottom of it's large raptor-like feet, then tickled the end of my quill onto it to see if the house would quiver. And oh, did it quiver before lifting up onto one large leg and scratching at itself. I only know because I nearly got stamped into the deadening leaves and mushy Earth underfoot when it tried to twist away from my feather as I tried to inspect the bottom of its feet.

Bumblefoot, I would have expected like those of the chicken farmer, but far from it.

Hardly dusty, just a little dirty, but shapely to the point they looked deliciously tasty if chicken feet were served in my village.

I only wondered if there was meat on the-

I would have marveled over my near-death experience a little more if the witch hadn't descended from the house in a rage, screaming over her tipped brew. I thought I could hide away, but she had a keen nose for anything living and sussed me out easier than I thought. That was more terrifying than the house when I shriveled up under her gnarled hands that had the strength of three full grown men.

In the craze of it all, I hadn't just stood there gaping at her like an idiot. No, I attempted to tear away, hoping my clothes would give, but she snatched me up from the floor at our feet to heft me over the height of her crippled form to stare up at me before saying 'I'd do well enough' and then dragged me back inside.

Into her dark lair, a place where men and children never come from.

But what of women? Well, women rarely come here. They are home with their babes... and so only fools dense enough like myself are privy to their eyes to be caught wandering their woods.

There, I had laid there, closer than probably any other writer ought to have got... Well, before their untimely demise, as I watched her reassemble her house's tidiness with a flick of her finger and twist of her wrist.

Chanting. More chanting. I could nearly hear the house light up to life inside.

Things skittering, glass scraping.

Bottles unshattered, climbed back up onto shelves, and liquid spilt steamed up off the floor. Some of it arched like lightning in the air, crackling and popping while the brew in the center of the house howled and screamed when she scraped that away. I shudder to imagine what those things were to make them do as they had, but I knew I should have been noting my escape rather than taking notes on her house interior.

"Ruin. Ruin... Ruin to run," she whispered, mumbling some other weird incantations to herself as she busily cleaned up the mess I had caused. A part of me wondered if I had foiled her latest brew to steal the life of the local children, but then I wondered if children were the only things these yagas stole the life from.

"A man of great youth, mine to find."

My eyes flicked up to meet her, surprised by her sudden appearance to my left. I hung upside down nearly, my back across the cradled bird's house.

I wanted to gasp, to ask what she'd do to me, but she only smiled.

"Nicholas, Nicholas. All the blame. Curious man, born with shame."

The evil hag knew my name. Knew of me. Knew I was not one in the same. I didn't know they turned young men to witches rather than dine.

Cranial,

splitting open my head wide until I can reach deep inside.

There's something bitter, dragging itself up from within me.

When my eyes peel open, I stare up into the gaping wide sky above me,

hoping to swallow it all. As if it might fill up the emptiness inside of me.

Still, I can feel it gnawing, tearing at me from inside, screaming to be let free.

I can't.

Won't.

Fire,

burning harshly so much that I'm melting from the inside out.

Nothing to cure the burning, just the bitter taste of copper and flesh to bring me back to reality.

Note how the emptiness is carving itself further inside the dividing depths in me.

Curdled,

like the spoiled milk I forced upon my pressed lips. Sour in taste, caught in my throat from the consistency before I vomiting it all back up.

She can't expect me to keep drinking this, to delude myself into believing she is the innocent and I am the sinner.

I am her giver, she is my taker.

Lies,

things I delude myself into believing we are separate. That I am 'leaving you behind,' not desperate enough to come back. I sever the things my instincts latch onto, cutting it away again and again. I cheer with each snapped chord, cry when I braid it back together and suffer at the noose I've wrangled around my soul.

If I could leave behind my vessel, to be free of you. To escape. I'm sure the strings would be begging to be reattached, to drag me back, to let her sink her claws into me. To let the emptiness dive back in and devour me from the inside out.

Massive.

Unbound.

Sinking it's endless unbound grief, there is no repentance for the perpetual victim. There is only consumption, and consumption of the kin in its grief. Let me go. Let me go. I don't want to be attached anymore. I have nothing more I can release to her, because she is killing me anymore.

Freedom,

let's me take in air and wonder if I've been drinking in poison for years far longer than I came to realize. The breath I need to realize all the things I could have, that the world does not need to devour me and I it. I can be as free as I want so long as I sever the bonds that seek to bind me. Let me be her villain. I am the nightmare child she wanted me to always be.

___________________________________________________________________

I didn't use this one too much, but I found a sort of pattern in it that I enjoyed and that was all I gleaned from this one. I scrapped a majority of it.

Original:

Massive.

like the cavern of the earth.

Calculative.

like the husk that's left behind.

A spark of flurry. I touch of fire and the heart is set ablaze. I care not for my fellow man, not in the way I brave. My hearts a sputter and curiosity is always at its brink. I cheer away the endless days and lock the door for my soul to keep still within. My soul is set asunder but blunders from the sky. The conscious mind takes float and leaves a body behind. Once more now.

Massive. Unbound. Untouchable by any. I'd tease the hands that grab and pry to drag me to my steady. A wild spirit from within. I live within no bounds. I may be crazy. I may be human but I am different, tall, and loud. I love nothing but everything. I desire no further fear. I live to see the curiosity before I've been set astill. So leave me up and unbound. I care little for the ground. My spirit shall take flight while the wolfen body growls from the grounds. Two parts within one body. Two minds within a soul. My will is but a measure of how bold I am to show the depth of all my reasoning. The depth of my despair. I am a free spirit and have long since moved on from my current dwelling. Catch me if you can. On both terms and you shall be considered very lucky.

Sputtering fantasies,

choking on spit I have to keep in my mouth.

Muses of whispered angers,

no other emotion to fill my cups with.

Where I've always lived,

a place between rage and sorrow.

Tears are for tomorrow,

when I can breathe in a place free and clear.

No human hands shall pull me down,

I'm already as far down as I can be bound.

Join me in the revelry,

Dance with the shadows as we walk into the fray.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to be.

Sing it high,

let your voice free like the wind,

all up til' our bitter end.

Chanting things of our reality,

nestling in homes we never knew.

Dance, dance with me into the darkened day.

Lick your lips, tip the skirts forward and then high.

Kick your leg up and rustle the kirtle up.

There's only lace to cover our innocent little legs.

There's nothing normal here.

Lifeless, all low.

Hollow eyes,

Dead faces to a reality we all have to play in.

Skin wrinkling, time spinning on.

No limits to the devilry we mimic,

the mimicry is the closest cry for salvation we'll ever get.

Rattle on, rattle the chains,

drag on with the deeds of our kin.

They'll let themselves rest six feet under when they can,

buried with secrets and shackle us in life.

Here we are again,

dancing down the line.

A silver trail we leave behind,

until innocence is gone from our mind.

A stain that slip on down twisting drains,

giving life blood to the ones we left long ago in vain.

___________________________________________________________________

11 years ago. It's fun finding these on a whim, they're fun to recreate into a newer concept and flesh them out.

Original:

My mind shall sputter fantasies. That's where I've always lived. No human hand can pull me down for my mind is forever lived. It's free and like the wind, sings a bitter tune, it also can become maybe a book or two. It likes to explore unreality and nestle a home in new. The devilish attitude is rather cocky too. My mind is always out there. It's never close and near so I shall swing a new mood to express what is not there. I'll trample in emotions to dot the silver line. My mind is far from near. My mind is deep inside. Gorge the doubts and hopes. It's a forever tortured soul. A flying bird that dreams of lands it cannot stir.