victoire summers
Bio
hey i'm V! i write poetry, queer fantasy, and dabble in memoir style journalism. you can find me on tumblr @oscula-sucre. (all pictures are from unsplash)
Stories (4/0)
i will create
I learned to embroider this past October and started my first project the same week I broke up with my girlfriend. We'd been dating for a month when I found out on Halloween night that she'd shared my dark secrets with her friends—I cried, felt that too-familiar numbness, and asked one of her friends to drive me home. I'd had two white claws, and all I knew was I needed to get out of there. Needless to say, it was the worst Halloween I'd ever had.
By victoire summers3 years ago in Motivation
the goddess in the barn
Normandy, France June 10th, 1944 My dearest John, Every battle I live through makes me more grateful that you are back home and safe. It's horrible here—the fighting. I dream about it a lot. I can't stop thinking about the men I've killed, or how one of my men got killed, or how a grenade almost got me two days ago. But I shouldn't tell you all this; I don't want you worrying about me. It's been a year now, but I know I'm coming home soon. The men talk about it all the time—home. I miss it. Europe is beautiful, but we have to visit when there isn't a war going on. Ha-ha.
By victoire summers3 years ago in Fiction
life imitates art
Some people are born poets. Their souls rage the moment they are ripped from the womb, lungs aching and heart ready to burst out of a too-frail chest. Some people are born dancers—they fall, more than you could imagine anyone possibly could, yet they’re the ones who never give up. Who never look back, no matter how hard the choreography gets or how badly their bodies fail them when their dreams grow past their cracked ribcage. Some people are born artists—the smell of paint and the snowy gleam of an empty canvas gives them a high that no drug can replicate. Some people are born lovers—no matter what their object of affection is, their cause or passion—they cling to joy with every ounce of their being because they know that without love, life has no meaning at all. And some people are born fighters—they know the world owes them nothing, yet they create a life worth bleeding for. There are tears in their eyes, and if you follow them—as many are wont to do, with such saints—you will find their path marked with shards of their sundered hearts.
By victoire summers3 years ago in Motivation
The Mermaid (I Don't Believe in Destiny)
Gunshots rang out across the midnight-black deck, pirates shouting as they raced from one ship to the other. Sabine struggled to her feet, squinting in the darkness—the only light came from the pale moon far overhead. "Somebody better light a damn lantern," she growled, making for the lower deck, sword in hand. She stepped over bodies on the way, glancing at each face to make sure they weren't members of her crew.
By victoire summers3 years ago in Futurism
