Messtiza Noire
Bio
I design all my artwork, and love to paint stories with words.
I invite you into my world.
Let's build, together.
Stories (9/0)
The Marigolds Sing Pt. 3
There’s a somber, melancholic rage hidden in the beauties of gushing waterfalls. The fragrant deluge, the grand reception of glimmering waters, majestic in its prowess, wailing and howling, crushing moss against rocks, enforcing the carelessness of her agile mass on the soil and rocks, as they clamor about and out of her way. Catapulted forward, rambunctious in the way that she lunges on, rushing to meet the rigid edges of the earth. Fleeing the dark to conquer the light. Sunshine.
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Earth
The Marigolds Sing, Pt. 2
I’m whirling in a dream with Sir William. I am descending in circles, gnawing at the singing marigolds, desperate. The harmonies of their melodic welcome, startled by the deranged grip of my swirling insanity. Plummeting, wailing, plunged in a dizzying, downward spiral force. Frightened by the warped swirl of darkness, seized by the kaleidoscopic purple and ambient hues. Mystic fairies continue to circle around me in fits of reassurance, cooing in melodious awe. Almost megalomaniacal in their sense of assurance.
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Fiction
The Marigolds Sing
Meryll is not her usual self. The sparkle in her light amber-colored eyes is eclipsed by a sunken, hollow longing of sorts. Deep, dark, sorrowful. Almost listless, in a trance of memories. She’s dyed her hair a lighter blonde, snipped it into a bob just like mine. So perfect in the way her new haircut is cupping her porcelain, chiseled cheeks. I've never seen a woman be so striking in her misery. Always entranced by sorrow. Body so slender and fragile. Eyes always so desperate in the way she so achingly yearns to be loved.
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Futurism
Operation Merienda
Two years ago, an old friend of mine who works in finance, offered me a free consultation to get my finances in tip-top shape. The first step was to account for every single thing I spend my money on - a really involved and rather dizzying budget sheet. On the “charity” line of my spreadsheet he commented: “You can’t afford that right now”. The subsequent comment then read: “You are like what now, 31? Why is your savings so low?”
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Humans
The Guardians
Our farm roads were always thick with grass. Grass so green and tall, that frogs leapt over them as the day disappeared into the night. Chopped bamboo trunks are always neatly arranged by the mango trees. Palm trees lined the perimeter of our compound and separated the carabaos from our vast rice and corn fields. The floral scents wafting from our orchid and rose gardens, subtly tickling our noses as we played tag.
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Humans
Searching for A Heart of Gold
I’m getting headaches again. It feels like we are all just animals in the zoo. It turns out the scientist in Israel who tried to warn us about the Galactic Federation wasn’t really so crazy after all. He was actually trying to tell us about the good ones. Apparently, in the same way that humans have “good” and “bad” people, intergalactic beings do too. The “Galactic Federation” are the good guys and the not-so great guys insist on being called “Masters”. We call them “Masters” when they are around, but they're just Phobots. Just Dirty Phobes. They love watching wars and spend a lot of money to sow chaos, and the Galas just keep on protecting us. Our inter-planetary ambitions have finally paid off! Except, human hubris genuinely believed we were the most advanced species in the universe.
By Messtiza Noire3 years ago in Fiction
