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28 May 2009 @ 12:58 am
this bright colors  
title: this bright colors
author: selfdemo 
rating: g
disclaimer: 100% disclaimed. no association to the character whatsoever. this is a figment of my imagination
summary/excerpt: there are lullabies sung under breath and declarations of love mingling in between
a/n: this is my first time posting here :) and i'm drawn by the shinny cookleta so i wrote? i fail with metaphors but i try anyway. and i'm scared of posting because the writers here are awesome, i kid you not. so, don't kill me? please? and i'm not sure how to tag this so... help?

David lies on the scratchy green grass of the local clubhouse, the leaves cold and sticky on his skin. There are lullabies sung under breath and declarations of love mingling in between.

Cook's voice drifts over his ears and it makes him smile all sweet and bright. It keeps him down on the ground, firmly planted among the greens and yellows and pinks.

Time passes and the hint of laughter and whispers rise high. Cook's soothing words get lost in the myriad of sounds now ringing in his ears.

David looks to the sky, the moon is shinning on its perch, sitting on her throne of navy and royal, and its enticing and drawing him in. The blue undertones and the splashes of red and green starburst lines his sight and he is ultimately captivated by all there is to see and hear and drown in.

The light is dim now, tipping the balance to dark, but the abyss has hues he's never seen, never though existed. And he longs to touch it, to feel it between his finger and the lines of his palm. He propels himself in great mighty circles and strikes, up and up and higher and higher until its all he breathes in and taste and feel.

The trace of scratchy green grass and the mellow laugh fades among the flashes before his eyes. He does not remember if it happened in this lifetime of the next or twenty sets before. Its so distant, this memory, that it does not feel his anymore.

And then he's falling. David is falling face-first into nothingness. Its too fast its blinding his eyes and searing his skin. He would stop if he can. But even the thought of trying to requires strength he doesn't have.

He lets lose.

He can feel the end looming close. Death in bold red colors.

And David's not falling anymore.

He feels someone pulling him close, calloused hands wrapping around his broken wrist, warm breath ghosting over his skin. He turns and there is Cook, dispelling all the darkness with his smile.

The swirls and blurs stop. His feet are on firm ground again; his eyes can see line and shape.

David looks at Cook, stares at his eyes and he sees life, pulsing, breathing, beating life. And he inhales and exhales and there is spark inside him. The flashes and burst of colors is lost in the depth and the love of Cook's embrace. David basks in it. He could stay here forever.

The sun shine from behind the dark clouds and there is warm, warm light.

Current Mood: tiredtired
rajkumari905rajkumari905 on May 27th, 2009 02:24 pm (UTC)
This is gorgeous. Love the imagery.
Snarky Journalist from Heck: david cook seriouslylire_casander on May 27th, 2009 08:39 pm (UTC)
I think we have a new great addition to agst writers in the comm. This was brilliantly done, bb, I loved the imaginery and the metaphors and everything in it, from the very first line to the last one. Poignant and somehow hopefu.
Goodnight Hollywood Blvd.onepunkymisfit on May 27th, 2009 10:29 pm (UTC)
This is BEAUTIFUL. I love all of the imagery you used.

(And shhh, you do NOT fail with metaphors! You're amazing with them!)
nit(ya): GOODBYE.asweetdownfall on May 28th, 2009 12:30 am (UTC)
This is simply mesmerizing and lovely in every sense of the word. <3
yssawicked_music on January 6th, 2010 09:02 am (UTC)



HEEEEEE~ <333333