My dearest Cinnia,
When I saw you, I knew you were the perfect one. You had eyes that shown like stars and a beautiful smile that made me want to throw away your life to be with you. Your hair shines, as fair and golden as the rays of the sun. A swan could not even compare to your radiant beauty. Every inch of you, every part of you, gleams with radiance and beauty, and even your name has beauty. I was like an open book for you to read, a diary for you to tell your secrets to, a pillow to cry into, and a place to seek reassurance. I knew from the moment I lost my heart to you, that this fairytale was here forever. Your name gave the aroma of a fairy tale princess, for it does mean beauty. I will forever be lost in your clutches, without ever attempting to get free. I will always love you, every aspect of you. I only seek the knowledge that you feel half the same way for me, as I do for you. I only wish to hold you in my arms, and make the world change, so it no longer hurts you. I wish, I wish, with all my heart, that we could be together, eternally bonded together in an everlasting, head-over-heels, backwards-forwards bond of Love. A bond that never shall break, even with the troubles and changes that surely will come to past. My dearest Cinnia, my dear, dear Cinnia- always know that I love you with all my heart.
Always.
Always, Always Loving,
Braydon
Though I had read Braydon's love letter a thousand times, it still brought the tears that were becoming familiar to my eyes.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
From the day that I met you
The day was anew.
The world was fresh as dew.
The world had changed,
since the time before I met you.
Things, once of a great importance,
are of much lesser impact to me.
From the day that I met you.
From the day that I met you,
I must have been oblivious to the marvels of the Earth.
Just from the days that I met you.
As bright as day,
yet as dark as night,
your beauty stunns all that come within its light.
Your eyes shine like stars in the ever-present light,
your hair is like the rays of the sun;
beautiful, yet dangerous.
You reel my heart in,
as a fisherman does to his fish.
My heart was yours,
and only yours,
from the day that I met you.
Just From the day that I met you.
The world was fresh as dew.
The world had changed,
since the time before I met you.
Things, once of a great importance,
are of much lesser impact to me.
From the day that I met you.
From the day that I met you,
I must have been oblivious to the marvels of the Earth.
Just from the days that I met you.
As bright as day,
yet as dark as night,
your beauty stunns all that come within its light.
Your eyes shine like stars in the ever-present light,
your hair is like the rays of the sun;
beautiful, yet dangerous.
You reel my heart in,
as a fisherman does to his fish.
My heart was yours,
and only yours,
from the day that I met you.
Just From the day that I met you.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Dina's diary
CHAPTER ONE
January 19, 1892
New York City, New York
Dina Danison
Dear Diary,
The days are getting colder. There is new snow everyday. It glistens like a thousand diamonds, the most valuable things ever seen on this block . I am scared for Tessa. She’s so little, and the City is merciless. She could get lost, or sick, or hurt. She’s just a little girl. I fear for Kara too. She is trying to be brave, in this time of terror. We are all grieving for Mother. That was such a sudden loss, and so terrible. Abrianna is doing the best out of all of us. I don’t know how she manages. She is my role model, though I’ll never ever admit it to her. Caileigh is being so difficult. All she does is scream and brawl around like a banshee. The Roberts might give Abrianna a job.
That would surely lift all of our spirits to have full stomachs for once. And soft beds, and books, and paintings and other wonderful things like that. The things that Father burned. The lovely, most extraordinary, the marvelous things that he didn’t take a second glance at. My books, mother’s books, Kara’s books, Abrianna’s paintings. The beautiful things; the valuable things that had been thrown away, discarded, as my mother’s life had been. It had been like he had wanted to get rid of her. Like he didn’t want to cherish in the faded memories of her smiling face. Like the memories had hurt him. That was, after all, what he had said; that every memory of her had hurt him. Like it hurt him to think of her. That every once-alive memory was actually a dagger that stabbed him in the heart when he saw the remnants of her joyful reign of our little household. Abrianna says that he didn’t want us anymore; but I say that every time he looked at us, he saw her, reflected in our somber faces. That we were like those beautiful sentimental belongings that had reminded him of her.
Sincerely,
Dina Adele Danison
January 19, 1892
New York City, New York
Dina Danison
Dear Diary,
The days are getting colder. There is new snow everyday. It glistens like a thousand diamonds, the most valuable things ever seen on this block . I am scared for Tessa. She’s so little, and the City is merciless. She could get lost, or sick, or hurt. She’s just a little girl. I fear for Kara too. She is trying to be brave, in this time of terror. We are all grieving for Mother. That was such a sudden loss, and so terrible. Abrianna is doing the best out of all of us. I don’t know how she manages. She is my role model, though I’ll never ever admit it to her. Caileigh is being so difficult. All she does is scream and brawl around like a banshee. The Roberts might give Abrianna a job.
That would surely lift all of our spirits to have full stomachs for once. And soft beds, and books, and paintings and other wonderful things like that. The things that Father burned. The lovely, most extraordinary, the marvelous things that he didn’t take a second glance at. My books, mother’s books, Kara’s books, Abrianna’s paintings. The beautiful things; the valuable things that had been thrown away, discarded, as my mother’s life had been. It had been like he had wanted to get rid of her. Like he didn’t want to cherish in the faded memories of her smiling face. Like the memories had hurt him. That was, after all, what he had said; that every memory of her had hurt him. Like it hurt him to think of her. That every once-alive memory was actually a dagger that stabbed him in the heart when he saw the remnants of her joyful reign of our little household. Abrianna says that he didn’t want us anymore; but I say that every time he looked at us, he saw her, reflected in our somber faces. That we were like those beautiful sentimental belongings that had reminded him of her.
Sincerely,
Dina Adele Danison
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