lijah

He had risen like a phoenix from the ashen pages of a former life. One which he kept in leather bound volumes around his house for someone to come and pick up as if they knew they lay on each and every page. His bleeding heart supplied the ink well, changing dusted parchment into something worth keeping.

His tragic transformation was to that of a time before time, when cobblestone and proper manners were still enforced over the slaughtering of languages and lazy scrawls of pavement that crumbled whenever his feet touched down. Elijah knew full well that he didn't belong in this world -- he wasn't from it. Occasionally though, he enjoyed a visit.

One worth writing about.