07-24-2017, 11:05 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Great+Vibes" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.atrani{position: relative;z-index: 3;width: 560px;box-shadow: 0 0 8px #000;background: #1B305D;padding-bottom: 4px;border: 1px solid#000;border-radius: 120px 0px 0px 0px;}.atrpic{position: relative;z-index: 5;width: 560px;border-radius: 120px 0px 0px 0px;}.atrgrad{position: relative;z-index: 7;height: 100px;margin-top: -100px;background: rgba(27,48,93,0);
background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);
background: -webkit-gradient(left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%, rgba(27,48,93,0)), color-stop(100%, rgba(27,48,93,1)));background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);
filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#1b305d', endColorstr='#1b305d', GradientType=0 );}.atrwords{position: relative;z-index: 10;font: 13px 'Times New Roman', serif;text-align: justify;color: #DFD3C3;padding: 10px 20px;background: #252C3F;width: 480px;border-top: 4px double#352b3b;margin-top: -15px;box-shadow: 0 0 6px #000;}.atrname{position: relative;z-index: 12;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #fff, 0 0 10px #D6A85E, 0 0 30px #fff, 0 0 50px #fff, 0 0 70px #fff;font: 30px 'Great Vibes', cursive;letter-spacing: 3px;text-align: right;padding-right: 40px;margin-top: -20px;}.atrquote{position: relative;z-index: 14;color: #C1C7BF;text-align: left;padding-left: 33px;font: 11px 'Times New Roman', serif;font-style: italic;margin-top: 4px;}.atrcredits{position: relative;z-index: 17;color: #000;font: 11px 'Times New Roman', serif;}</style><center><div class="atrani"><img class="atrpic" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b0/3d/34/b03d341a453bc269f27e608fdd5e5125.jpg"><div class="atrgrad"></div><div class="atrname">Atrani</div><div class="atrwords">How long has she been lying here, crumpled at the water’s edge bleeding? It seems like an eternity. Her atrophied muscles quiver from the exertion and her lungs boil with a heated pain. She doesn’t want to move; for a moment, she wonders if she even can.
The sound of her leg dragging across the grass reassures her that she isn’t paralyzed, that she still has fight left in her, but how much? Her meager strength is diminishing, but she musters her courage and resilience to stand. It isn’t a pretty sight, but what would she know? She has never seen beauty or ugly – only darkness. At first, Atrani stumbles. Her body almost collapses again, but like a newborn fawn, she spreads her legs for an exaggerated base of support.
And she whimpers for the first time ever.
She refused to show weakness when mother died, when she turned against father and his lover, when father bid her farewell. Almost like she was practiced, Atrani was able to mask everything behind an empty expression, never letting others know how her heart shattered.
But now, she weakens. The stinging of her wounds is a new thing entirely. She has experienced emotional pain, but physical? No, father would never have allowed it. Never.
The corded muscles in her jaw clench before she sucks in a sharp breath. Prepared to escape the water’s edge, Atrani takes pause as a song drifts into her ears. Such a serene melody it is; it stops her and makes moving away an impossible thought. Tilting her head, she listens for the source, drawn by an unfamiliar hymn. She almost asks who is there, but her lips are pursed shut as though entranced by the music. It croons for her to follow as its tendrils seep deep into the crevices of her mind. Having been turned away from the lake, she now faces it. That’s where it’s coming from. Water was there, she knows. Only moments prior did she crawl from its shallows, and yet she hears not even a ripple.
What world is this? What cruel joke is this?
There is no resisting the melody as it enraptures her entire being. It caresses her like a mother, or even a sweet lover. Atrani cannot help but to follow, never realizing that she is walking across the pond. How would she know? She cannot see where her feet fall; she can only feel how the grass that tickled her heels now recedes. It’s replaced by the cling of fog as it wraps around her body and legs, but she hardly takes notice as the hymns continue without pause. As she inches closer, the melody strengthens and it echoes through her. Every other thought is gone; there is only this honeyed song.
But with the song, there is an image. It’s far away at first, a blob that she doesn’t quite understand. What is imagery? Darkness, a heavy blackness, is all she has ever known, and yet her mind is concocting colors for the first time ever.
Closer still she walks and it’s as though the image is approaching her, too. It didn’t notice her at first. Its back faced Atrani, but then a raspy breath escaped her lungs and the figure turned its head. A side glance finds her before it pivots entirely to see her.
<i>”This can’t be real,”</i> she whispers as she never stops walking, <i>”because I cannot see. I’ve never been able to see.”</i> The muscles in her eye sockets twitch hopefully, and she imagines what it would be like to blink, but to no avail. Perhaps a wiser horse would have turned away, startled by the strangeness of it all, but Atrani’s curiosity overwhelms her just as much as the melody in her head. The distance between her and the figure almost seems to close. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears and rising in her throat.
There are bony protrusions, stained alabaster from the sun. They run along his body in a grotesque way, and yet she finds its oddly beautiful. He is emaciated underneath that, the edges of his face pulled sharply. His legs are adorned with a beautiful twilight, the stars sparkling as they would in the night sky. Confused, Atrani stares in utter silence, wondering who this is that the world decided to create in front of her.
But then the realness consumes her.
When she breathes, she can smell <i>him.</i>
The only one she has ever truly cared about.
The one that she chased away.
The one that she has undoubtedly missed and craved.
Her entire body rattles with fear, with heartbreak, with regret, and some joy. This world is playing a joke on her, or concocting wild dreams, but she doesn’t want to wake up from this. To <i>see</i> him for the first time ever pulls at her heart. The only thing she has known is what the bony ridges have felt like against the velvet of her muzzle when she once sidled up next to him and breathed him in. They were rough, but now she can actually <i>see</i> how the bones rip through his skin and cover him like armor, and how his body is eerily thin like her own, and how stunningly grotesque he actually is.
In front of him – in front of this wild dream – she weakens again, whimpering into the darkness as she drunkenly takes in everything about him. A frown creases her lips and though she almost drops her head, she refuses to look away in fear of never seeing him again.
<i>”Daddy,”</i> she heartbreakingly croons, wanting only to wrap herself in him once more.
</div><div class="atrquote">dove into her eyes and starved all the fears</div></div><div class="atrcredits">picture by <a href="http://www.boredpanda.com/death-like-skeleton-drawings-haenuli-shin/?utm_source=androidapp&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=androidapp">haenuli shin</a>- HTML by Call - words: ________</div></div></center>
[Image: callwolf_zpsasro4cel.png]
background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);
background: -webkit-gradient(left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%, rgba(27,48,93,0)), color-stop(100%, rgba(27,48,93,1)));background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(27,48,93,0) 0%, rgba(27,48,93,1) 100%);
filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#1b305d', endColorstr='#1b305d', GradientType=0 );}.atrwords{position: relative;z-index: 10;font: 13px 'Times New Roman', serif;text-align: justify;color: #DFD3C3;padding: 10px 20px;background: #252C3F;width: 480px;border-top: 4px double#352b3b;margin-top: -15px;box-shadow: 0 0 6px #000;}.atrname{position: relative;z-index: 12;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #fff, 0 0 10px #D6A85E, 0 0 30px #fff, 0 0 50px #fff, 0 0 70px #fff;font: 30px 'Great Vibes', cursive;letter-spacing: 3px;text-align: right;padding-right: 40px;margin-top: -20px;}.atrquote{position: relative;z-index: 14;color: #C1C7BF;text-align: left;padding-left: 33px;font: 11px 'Times New Roman', serif;font-style: italic;margin-top: 4px;}.atrcredits{position: relative;z-index: 17;color: #000;font: 11px 'Times New Roman', serif;}</style><center><div class="atrani"><img class="atrpic" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b0/3d/34/b03d341a453bc269f27e608fdd5e5125.jpg"><div class="atrgrad"></div><div class="atrname">Atrani</div><div class="atrwords">How long has she been lying here, crumpled at the water’s edge bleeding? It seems like an eternity. Her atrophied muscles quiver from the exertion and her lungs boil with a heated pain. She doesn’t want to move; for a moment, she wonders if she even can.The sound of her leg dragging across the grass reassures her that she isn’t paralyzed, that she still has fight left in her, but how much? Her meager strength is diminishing, but she musters her courage and resilience to stand. It isn’t a pretty sight, but what would she know? She has never seen beauty or ugly – only darkness. At first, Atrani stumbles. Her body almost collapses again, but like a newborn fawn, she spreads her legs for an exaggerated base of support.
And she whimpers for the first time ever.
She refused to show weakness when mother died, when she turned against father and his lover, when father bid her farewell. Almost like she was practiced, Atrani was able to mask everything behind an empty expression, never letting others know how her heart shattered.
But now, she weakens. The stinging of her wounds is a new thing entirely. She has experienced emotional pain, but physical? No, father would never have allowed it. Never.
The corded muscles in her jaw clench before she sucks in a sharp breath. Prepared to escape the water’s edge, Atrani takes pause as a song drifts into her ears. Such a serene melody it is; it stops her and makes moving away an impossible thought. Tilting her head, she listens for the source, drawn by an unfamiliar hymn. She almost asks who is there, but her lips are pursed shut as though entranced by the music. It croons for her to follow as its tendrils seep deep into the crevices of her mind. Having been turned away from the lake, she now faces it. That’s where it’s coming from. Water was there, she knows. Only moments prior did she crawl from its shallows, and yet she hears not even a ripple.
What world is this? What cruel joke is this?
There is no resisting the melody as it enraptures her entire being. It caresses her like a mother, or even a sweet lover. Atrani cannot help but to follow, never realizing that she is walking across the pond. How would she know? She cannot see where her feet fall; she can only feel how the grass that tickled her heels now recedes. It’s replaced by the cling of fog as it wraps around her body and legs, but she hardly takes notice as the hymns continue without pause. As she inches closer, the melody strengthens and it echoes through her. Every other thought is gone; there is only this honeyed song.
But with the song, there is an image. It’s far away at first, a blob that she doesn’t quite understand. What is imagery? Darkness, a heavy blackness, is all she has ever known, and yet her mind is concocting colors for the first time ever.
Closer still she walks and it’s as though the image is approaching her, too. It didn’t notice her at first. Its back faced Atrani, but then a raspy breath escaped her lungs and the figure turned its head. A side glance finds her before it pivots entirely to see her.
<i>”This can’t be real,”</i> she whispers as she never stops walking, <i>”because I cannot see. I’ve never been able to see.”</i> The muscles in her eye sockets twitch hopefully, and she imagines what it would be like to blink, but to no avail. Perhaps a wiser horse would have turned away, startled by the strangeness of it all, but Atrani’s curiosity overwhelms her just as much as the melody in her head. The distance between her and the figure almost seems to close. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears and rising in her throat.
There are bony protrusions, stained alabaster from the sun. They run along his body in a grotesque way, and yet she finds its oddly beautiful. He is emaciated underneath that, the edges of his face pulled sharply. His legs are adorned with a beautiful twilight, the stars sparkling as they would in the night sky. Confused, Atrani stares in utter silence, wondering who this is that the world decided to create in front of her.
But then the realness consumes her.
When she breathes, she can smell <i>him.</i>
The only one she has ever truly cared about.
The one that she chased away.
The one that she has undoubtedly missed and craved.
Her entire body rattles with fear, with heartbreak, with regret, and some joy. This world is playing a joke on her, or concocting wild dreams, but she doesn’t want to wake up from this. To <i>see</i> him for the first time ever pulls at her heart. The only thing she has known is what the bony ridges have felt like against the velvet of her muzzle when she once sidled up next to him and breathed him in. They were rough, but now she can actually <i>see</i> how the bones rip through his skin and cover him like armor, and how his body is eerily thin like her own, and how stunningly grotesque he actually is.
In front of him – in front of this wild dream – she weakens again, whimpering into the darkness as she drunkenly takes in everything about him. A frown creases her lips and though she almost drops her head, she refuses to look away in fear of never seeing him again.
<i>”Daddy,”</i> she heartbreakingly croons, wanting only to wrap herself in him once more.
</div><div class="atrquote">dove into her eyes and starved all the fears</div></div><div class="atrcredits">picture by <a href="http://www.boredpanda.com/death-like-skeleton-drawings-haenuli-shin/?utm_source=androidapp&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=androidapp">haenuli shin</a>- HTML by Call - words: ________</div></div></center>
[Image: callwolf_zpsasro4cel.png]