kore-karasu

Thomas snuggled closer to Travis, wrapping his arms tighter around his torso and squeezing his hand. Travis smiled sleepily and pushed back against Thomas's chest, wrapping one leg over, around, and back around Thomas's. Thomas rubbed his nose in Travis's hair, the scent of shampoo and his skin making him smile even wider. A quick kiss to the back of his head and a "good morning, hun" were quick to follow. Travis smiled and hummed a little, not willing to open his eyes and wake up fully just yet. Thomas picked his head up and stared at Travis's profile. "Not ready to wake up yet? Ok, we can cuddle a while longer." A quick peck on the cheek

Elysium: the word itself by nature alludes to the Elysian Fields, places of mythic peace and perfect, sublime happiness. Could such a place have ever really existed? Of course we already know that such a place never existed. The true, original meaning (in Latin, not in Greek) was the land of the dead, possibly (or probably) the basis for our modern ideas of heaven. What I mean by this question is not in its physical sense, did this place exist, but in its abstract sense. A better way to phrase this question, perhaps, is, has anyone ever been so perfectly happy and at peace that they could claim to have found the Elysian Fields? Now, don't

The sky was crowded with clouds as I arrived at my grandmother's manor on the moor, much as it always was. This time, of course, it all seemed so much more depressing to me, for though I still thought of the manor as my grandmother's, she had left it to me in her will. And seeing as she had passed almost two months ago, the manor was legally – if not rightfully, according to me – mine. My mood was not lifted as the car came round the bend in the drive, revealing at last the manor I had inherited. It was low to the ground, a sprawling building with a few tall windows, built mostly of grey stone. The few trees that stood before it we

He sat slumped in an overstuffed leather armchair, his back to the sliding glass doors that let the afternoon sun light up the entire room. One hand rested against his cheek, the fingers relaxed and draped over his lips, his elbow on the dark brown arm. His suit jacket was wrinkling, he could tell, but he didn't care: Alex was gone. He tried to fight back the tears, and his eyes focused at random on the chair across from him. In the sunlight, he could see how threadbare the arms had gotten. That chair was the first the two of them had bought together, as a couple; that chair marked the beginning of their home. And here he sat, staring at its

My spirituality has been something that I have found for myself over the past six years. I follow a religion that, to the best of my knowledge, no one else on the planet has followed. The name of this religion is the Order of the Three, or the Order for short. Because of this highly specialized spirituality, I have always had a hard time trying to find a “real life” spiritual role model or idol. However, my religion believes heavily in other worlds and realities, many of which are filled completely with people who are devout worshippers at the altar I call my own. Still, the only real spiritual idols that come to mind easily are the

I have had several spiritual experiences throughout my life. Some of these are connected to my religious beliefs. However, the most powerful and moving of all of my enlightened moments had absolutely nothing to do with my religious beliefs at the time. This vision did not strike me the way that most spiritual visions are supposed to come upon people. Most people think that the truly moving spiritual moments come upon you during times of extreme prayer or meditation, or perhaps during extremely peaceful times in nature. My experience came to me while I got out of a Japanese-style bathtub in my host family’s bathroom, somewhere in the subu

A song comes on. It’s ours; mine; no one’s. It reminds me of something, something that makes me long for someone; someone in particular, no one in particular, anyone, no one. I miss a feeling, a feeling given by people, a person, one at a time and never all the way. I want them all back, and none of them back. I want him back, but know I can’t have him. Sometimes he doesn’t feel right for what I want, not as this. I want a feeling, a touch, a person. I want a role to be filled, but filled right – not just some stand-in like last time, like all the times before. Another song comes on. It’s no different. The same

Death has parted us; first his, then mine. Nearly one hundred of my deaths now part us. His soul, it would seem, is lost to me forever. Yet as long as I can remember what it is like to feel him warm against me, holding me close, I will search for him. And I will always have faith that his soul, wherever it is, looks down upon me, in all my lives, and waits for the day that I may return to him. I have faith that he watches and waits in a place close to me, for I seem him now and then – not just in the snippets of old memories hidden away in my dreams. Sometimes, when I lie down, I see him through a door in the line of blue on my wall. H