inspired by Jaybells's "Scars being more light than dark (they tend to shine)" and "things that mend?" prompts and Hollyshock's (hi it's so good to see you again!!) "kintsugi" prompt. Feedback and title ideas appreciated!

you fractured me into

a thousand glittering pieces of 

flesh bone blood 

and then you

sewed me back together,

needle carefully piercing 

my too-pale skin, and you

grew a garden of embroidery flowers

around my scars;

violet daisy daffodil 

to distract from the pain.

and then you

glued me back together,

casting my scars

in gold, and you

inlaid shining precious stones 

beneath my skin;

ruby topaz emerald

so that i might forget 

that it was you—

you who shattered me and tore 

me apart, 

you who lit the match that reduced me to

a smoldering, acrid pile of ashes,

and you may paint over my mistakes, 

oils smooth across my skin,

and call it a masterpiece,

and sign your artist’s signature all

over me but

the scars are still there, running spidery and

light across my porcelain skin,

every place you touched

transformed into an angry gash,

branding me—

but i’ve grown to love these scars because

they remind me of

how deep your knife cuts, of

how badly you’ve wounded me,

and no matter what you do to make me

beautiful once more

(a garden of threaded blossoms;

a gossamer of molten sunlight,

a canvas of the richest hues),

it does not change the fact that i am broken

beyond repair

Here's one!

-”You know those odd little glass bottles sitting in dusty corners of thrift shops and attics, the ones that have strange, crystalline liquid flowing around in them, the ones that are corked up securely as if someone was afraid of something escaping out of it, the ones that are fogged up inside so that you can't see the interior, the ones with grubby lables hanging on their necks by a frayed loop of thread with 'Not for sale' scrawled on the yellowed paper in illegible handwriting, the ones that catch the sunlight and throw it on the wooden floorboards in a iridiscent rainbow of colors unseen by the human eye...? Yes? You thought you were really smart when you swiped that vial, weren't you? Well now look what you've got yourself into...“

Yes. This is the result of me staring into my mom's half-depleted bottle of perfume for forty-five seconds. Feel free to interpret it as you wish, with quotation marks or without.

Here is something I wrote, like, YEARS ago, and thought that I would share it with you:

~~~

Arthur was alone in the room, but it felt like a million eyes were watching. Goosebumps rolled up his arms as he picked up a note. His eyes widened as he read. Get out It simply said. He stuffed the note in his pocket as he backed out the door. Arthur turned and ran. He knew he shouldn’t have tried to solve this case. He turned his head. I thought I heard someone. He thought to himself as he slowed down as he rounded the corner. Breathing heavily, he sat down on a bench to think. Why were all these things happening to him? First, he found a clue to a case his dad was trying to solve and Arthur thought he could solve it himself, after all, he was 13 years old. Arthur laid back and he felt something poke his back. He turned around slowly. “Phew!” he said, relived, “Only a tree branch.”

And then, when he turned back around, a strange man with a huge hat that covered his eyes stood in front of him. It felt like forever until Arthur finally had the courage to ask, “What do you want?” in a small, timid voice.

“Just tell me what you know.” The man answered in a gravely voice.

“No!” Arthur said, defiantly. “I won’t!”

“Fine,” he said as he cracked his knuckles, “We’ll do this the hard way.”

Arthur felt like he shouldn’t have said no. “Maybe we could work things out,” he said, as the man got closer. “I’ll do what ever you want!” he pleaded, as soon as the man got as close as a few inches away.

“Good.” He said and turned to walk away. “Are you coming?” he asked, in a sweet, enticing voice.

Arthur gulped. “Yes.” He said as the man walked.

And Arthur followed.  

~~~

Take it where you want to go, and we'll see what happens... ;) 

This idea came to me either in a dream or when I was falling asleep, I don't remember which. You know how the moon is responsible for the tides and in that way sort of "governs" the ocean? I thought that in a fantasy world an interesting expression would be "It's the moon of [insert charrie's name here]'s sea," meaning that it was what governed the charrie's world. For instance, if someone was constantly motivated by his love for a beautiful princess (just to have a simple example) he could say that the princess was the moon of his sea.