The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

the golden sea (poem)

Aug
30

For K and B

the golden sea within your eyes
an innocence devoid of lies
(more…)

let this be known (poem)

Aug
30

For K and B

fire and light within my soul
stand by your side, let this be known
(more…)

a kind of lightning (poem)

Aug
30

For K and B

there’s a kind of lightning in the tongue
fired up when hea’en and earth were young
a light that shines but only in a heart
a passion that can pierce the fiercest dark

(more…)

Unfinished Business

Jul
25

Bam was dead.

“Were you eaten by a fish?” It was an inane question. It didn’t matter.

He answered though. “The bull.” (more…)

Challenge

Jul
24

Bam likes Khun’s knife. Likes wrapping his hand around Khun’s wrist and asking without words for— (more…)

Light Me Up

Jul
24

The campfire flickered orange and gold across Khun’s face, bathing him in a wash of light and warmth. He was beautiful. Bam knew he was beautiful, smiling that crooked, smug grin as he pressed Bam’s stick back into his hand, a toasted marshmallow on the end. (more…)

Never Let Go

Jul
21

For a moment, just one long perfect moment, Khun’s arms are around him and Bam still feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, but he also feels like everything will somehow be okay, because he still has this. (more…)

Non-Believer

Jul
19

“You’re our god,” they say, and it weighs Bam down, hanging heavy on his soul because he never asked to be their god. He never asked to be the one to kill Jahad. (more…)

Between His Teeth

Jul
01

A Khun doesn’t need love. Khun children were fed on ambition and cunning and trained to compete for their lives and their name by the time they were ten. They don’t need affection. They need strength in their limbs and lightning in their bodies and blood between their teeth.

Then Bam looks at Khun Aguero Agnis and tells him, “I didn’t have any friends. Let’s be friends with them.”

There’s something else between his teeth and he can’t decide whether he likes the taste of it, the word coming out before he can hold it in. “Fine.”

He doesn’t need the feeling of Bam’s shoulder between his fingers, but he can’t stop reaching for it. Doesn’t need this sudden warmth in his chest when Bam asks to climb the Tower with them. A Khun doesn’t need love, he tells himself, unwilling to admit he doesn’t still believe it.