Poem Afterglow Novels & Stories

There perched inviolate the eagle's nest housing tender shoots; there flamed undying beacon consecrated by love's leap of faith naught could shake. And before harsher mercies required walking, we stole transcendent glimpse forever engraving magnificent glory glimpsed in beloved's stare mirroring the sublime. Two souls defeating despair hand in hand awaited victorious ever after.

_____ The shrilling sound of the school bell echoed through the walls of the School indicating school dismissal, everyone packed up their bags and trailed out of the class going to their various destinations, Angela packed her things and got ready to leave, she hung her bag loosely on one shoulder as she exited the doors of her school, she wasn't going home, as she turned around a corner going deeper into the forest, she seeked peace and senery and what other place to get one if not in nature it self. It was now sunset as she walked deeper into the forest looking for her favourite spot, the sun casts rays of orange and pink on the sky which reflected on the earth. Sunset came to the highland

Tonight is about building trust so every night will be as good as or better than this one. “Afterglow”. I say. “Pardon ?” She asks. “A woman I once … spent time with described the way she felt after sex as a glowing, told me I couldn’t leave her or fall asleep until the glow went away. She would refer to it as the afterglow”. I explain. “It does rather feel that way. Was she pretty ?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that”. I like that she sound almost jealous. “Can you imagine me with an ugly woman ?”

But that isn’t a problem with you now, is it? Aftershock (Mastery Level of Proficiency): This is a Glow descended from Olympus and is easily one of the most easy to use Glows in the user’s possession. This Glow is a passive one, and doesn’t need to be activated. Aftershock is a complementary Glow, and it extends the activation period of any skill by ten percent and decreases their cooldowns by 15 percent. However, it also has an active side, though user hasn’t unlocked this feature yet. This skill has no cooldown.

Caleb and Hela burn in hell, she thought to herself as the word left her mouth in a whisper, “Incendia.” The photograph caught fire and Caleb’s arm started to burn. The edge curled and shivered as the flames drank up the air and cherished. As she watched the dancing of the flames over, Eira’s chest felt a relief she hadn’t felt in a long while. She felt cruel and dark but it was nonetheless a good feeling. When she felt the photograph had burnt enough, she lazily let it drop into the toilet and with a flush it disappeared. “How did it feel?” Nate asked in an excited, rush tone.

I felt it the way you feel a held note resolve. The White-Glow is walking again, unhurried, drinking the trail of my own frequency off the walls I bled it onto fighting up the spine, and it is closing the distance at the only speed it ever uses. The speed of a thing that has never needed to run. And I am aware, above all of it, of the thing happening under my own ribs, because that is what has dropped me this time. Not the burn. Not the corridor's metabolic cliff. Something colder, and worse.

More alone than she’d ever been. The next morning arrived wrapped in a cold Los Angeles fog, the kind that softened the skyline and made every sound feel distant. From the window of her small apartment overlooking Downtown, Elara watched the city stir awake with cars humming below, lights flickering on in office towers, and rain clouds gathering like unspoken warnings. She hadn’t slept.

If I had answered her call, would she still be alive? Outside the car window, the night stretched on, endless and dark. I pulled over to the side of the road and dry-heaved uncontrollably. Tears blurred my vision. Pain crept up my ankles, and the late grief bent my spine. In this endless night, my soul was crushed again and again. Did keeping a promise to the dead even mean anything anymore? In my mind, I spoke to Cherry. "This world is unbearably cruel. I thought I could survive the darkness. But now that I've seen the light… I'm sorry, Cherry. I'm breaking my promise. Please forgive me when I see you there."

Behind us, I catch one last flicker of light—the crescent moon pulses once, silver running like liquid through its veins. Then it fades to stillness.

It was a song of mourning and reclamation. Her voice—low, smoky, unpolished—carried the names of every soldier she had trained. Every one she had buried. Every one who had whispered to her that they were afraid, and every one she hadn’t known how to comfort. But the chorus changed. From grief to glory. “Let the ashes sing Let the flame not die Even names unspoken Still reach the sky…” The entire courtyard lit up with silent flames—each listener’s hand catching fire not from magic, but memory.