My Ball | Low Luv X Erin Wasson Hematite Round Ring in Gold

Mother was getting the rest of my stuff out of the car and talking to the coach whilst leaving very provocatively (for her age) against the door of the car. Dad was off getting hot dogs, probably with a side of whiskey.

And there I was, lying on the field on battle, waiting for the ball to start rolling.

It wasn't my first game, and I wasn't a good player. I was brilliant. The coach loved my skills. The other players loved my consideration for the team. The audience loved my goals. I just loved the grass and the ball's ability to roll over it in accordance to my foot's command.

My boot studs piercing the dirt and blades of grass; a stunning tragedy. Yet with all that destruction, rom afar a field was still a field. The grass would still grow and the dirt wasn't going anywhere.

Oh and when it rains? Hallelujah! Mud splattering everywhere, onto the shirts and shorts of the runners and swirling with the blood from skinned knees and elbows. I'd smear the mud on my face, readying myself for the primitivity of competition. It's a rough game, football. Don't think the opposition won't play foul and spit in your eye when it comes to victory. Remember: They want the trophy as badly as you do.

'Chase! Better start warming up!' Gary was shouting, but I didn't want to get up yet.

'I'm just stretching my calves,' I shouted back.

I curled my toes under my feet and made it look like I was really stretching them. I sort of was anyway, since I was in that position.

I stared out at the other little-uns getting ready for the game. They all looked so small from down here. Then I saw a beetle, perched on a grass blade close to my eye. It was the size of the football from my perspective. Gary nearly kicked it.

Speaking of the devil, Gary went on to grab my ankles and dragged me into the center of the field.

'Get a move on, man! We'll be starting anytime now!' he shouted.

He likes to shout.

I got up and started kicking the ball around, ran a few laps, stretched my legs (I really did). Mother was sitting with Dad on the bleachers. She waved at me and smiled, showing off her shiny white teeth. Dad was happily eating his hot dog. There was mustard on his shirt. He smiled at me with his thumb up, then grabbed Mother's hand. She looked at him and giggled, wiping a smidgen of ketchup from his cheek.

My studs were ready to stab, my legs were strong and eager to carry my weight across the field, and my eyes were as sharp as ever. I kicked the.. Hey that's my ball!


(photo via RevolveClothing.com)

Two | Pamela Love Rose-Tone Bronze Triangle Ring

We are the two inside your head.
We are the incorporeal things you dread.

Your fury,
You're mad.

Wasn't it Franklin who said three can keep a secret if two of them are dead?
We may not be alive, but we are certainly not dead.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Either | Ludevine Extreme Cat Eye Ring

Could I, for a moment, be incorporeal? I could be the glitch in the system, that fraction-of-a-second blackout; something that never lingers long enough to catch the next twitch. Let me invade the cove of thought that nobody listens to because they don't care. I can sneak through the gap above, beside, underneath, and assimilate you. There's a wink and a catch and a cough; I am none of these. In retrospect, I was never material or made of material. Perhaps I wish I was, so I could understand what it means to be nothing now. But I'm not important, you are. You're the ragamuffin squatting in the corner of some dirty alley trying to climb a fence that isn't there. Even if you told me there was a way out, I wouldn't believe you. There is no way out. I know this because I am the way out, and you're not letting me in. Why? Reason eludes us all; words even more so when we need them the most. It's okay. There's no real train of thought. Just thought. But I'll let you have one narrow ray of sunshine.
I don't know, either.


(photo via ludevine.com)

Hope | Marie- Hélène de Taillac 22-Karat Gold Rubelite Clover Ring

First, you were just a word on the screen. Then you became sentences in my mouth. Turning since from an unimaginable entity into something real. The first time I brought you out (or you brought me out, I forget which) you waited for me. And I have stood by you ever since. We have shared so much laughter and so much sadness. I have heard you cry and I have seen your heart break. You have heard my silence and you have seen my scars. One day, it became difficult to stand by your side, and your existence became naught. You might have still existed somewhere out there, for others and for yourself, but not for me. Another day, it became even more difficult to be away from you, and I salvaged the bits of us left. More words. More sentences. More real. We could be brilliant together, I thought. Nevertheless another day has come. And difficulties are surging their way through to sleepless nights. Again I find myself wondering if I had too much hope, and whether such hope must finally die.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Ring | Regal Rose Ginger. Fiery Feather Ear Cuff

The world is in such a state. Bombs in the making. Fires keep burning. Ashes still tossing in the wind. With a whole ocean's worth of water and the whole land's worth of dirt.

Ring-a-ring-a-roses!


People beat down, shot down, buried down. Down down down. Deep in the caverns of our hearts. Waiting forever for the freedom that never came.

A pocket full of posies!


With no one to trust. Whose words are worthy of belief? Where do we place our money? When do we begin? When will it all end?

Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!


But now is not the time to hesitate. Follow yourself. And help others along the way. Before it's too late.

We're all tumbled down!




(photo via RegalRose.co.uk)

Bourgeoisie | Kenneth Jay Lane Gunmetal Octopus Ring

From the very beginning, they'll start superciliously rubbing coins in your face. Once you've been introduced, they will seem friendly and humane, and start sending you invitations to their parties. You will reject the first few because you don't want to impose, but they will keep insisting until you finally break (which you will). A car will be sent to pick you up at six o'clock, earlier than the expected time of arrival of their other guests, so they can give you a tour of their abode, their lair. And when you arrive, they will make you wait at the door, while the butler fetches them and while you admire their foyer. The grand double staircase and crystal chandeliers, that precious vase in the corner, this glittering marble floor, and over there, and more there, everywhere! the walls are covered with paintings of old. Some of their arts are unknown to you, yet you have an inkling that they are just as unknown to their owners.

Down the staircase they come, with their heels and jewels that glint in the chandelier light. You wonder for a moment about the jewels in their vault, and you imagine a great octopus swimming in the underwater trove with its suckers nesting diamonds the size of your fist. You greet each other. Their tour ensues and you immense yourself in this alien den. With each step, you melt into their waxy floors. You start walking like them, trying to match their graceful gait. You upturn your nose, curious about the ceiling that seems to glow.

The other guests arrive and dinner is served. Classical music is played by a small orchestra in the back. You sit by the head of the table. You are a guest-of-honour, they say. Because of your inscrutable intelligence, you survive the dinner talk with your mouth full. They vibrate in their velvet seats when you start your talk of beauty within. Only the clinks of china against silver cutlery are heard when they cease the inquiries of daylight robberies. After dinner, you take your leave, graciously thanking them for the invitation. They invite you again, but you say maybe. They blink at you and have the door shut when you turn away.

I might be on the street, you say, but my life is not ennuied and worth the fight to keep. Goodbye. Farewell, you bourgeoisie. This shall be the last your tentacles see of me.


(photo via my-wardrobe.com)

Home | Regal Rose Star Rings

His stance wavered. His feet took the tiniest of steps to and fro, trying to keep him standing, but in the end they failed to support him, and he came crashing down to his knees. Blood trickled down his chest in three streams and stained his pitch black uniform like a dark red nebula. Shadows ran across his eyes, carrying pictures of the family he abandoned for his calling. The shining silver blade fell out of his loose grip and clanged loudly against the marble floor. A pinch of a smile grabbed his cheek before he began falling to the floor.

But just as he was about to hit the ground, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head close to her chest. Saving him from the fatal impact she laid his head gently on her lap and fingered the three shuriken stars sticking out of his chest.

"I have to take these out Sen," she said.

He placed his hand weakly over hers. "They've shattered my sternum, Kina. I can feel my heart trying to escape, but this passionate monster must stay inside."

She stared at him unmoved and withdrew her hand from his. The building was on fire and her brothers and sisters were falling dead around her. But Kina remained, rock hard and stone cold.

"Look at me Kina."

She blinked and turned down to face him.

"You have to get it back Kina. Make your last move swift." He coughed and just managed to softly say, "I will see you at home," before he became absolutely still.

Gently she laid Sen's head on the ground and stood up, but only after plucking the bloody stars out of his chest. Clutching them tightly until her hands bled she bolted towards the vault, casting the stars at the remaining guards's foreheads, killing them instantly. One of her sisters had already opened the door and fell consequently. She leapt over her mangled body and dashed into the vault.

The samurai stood between her and her goal. She was ready. This was mortal combat, but their swords sliced viciously through the air. Swift, she thought. She threw her sword towards her opponent. In a flash she was at the table, hugging the pink monster tightly against her chest, and her opponent had pierced her from the back.

Tears rampaged down her cheeks, throwing out years of forgotten pain and sadness. She died, but she made it back home.


(photo via RegalRose.co.uk)

Police | Mr. Kate Screw You Ring in Rose

God what a night.

I sat in the car waiting for something interesting to pop up on the police scanner. The hot chocolate Jane made for me wasn't enough to subdue the cold. The dryness bit my eyes and I had to shut them tightly to stop from twitching.

What I saw next, I didn't quite expect.

A girl, 18 by the (ahem) looks of her, stood naked right in front of the car's headlights like a deer. The only thing she wore was a red bracelet on her right wrist. Her feet were bleeding from the sharp prominences of the road. She squinted against the light and seemed to stare me down.

And I just kind of.. sat there. Honestly, how often do you get put into these situations?

Well I did eventually get out. I asked her what she was doing out in this cold (like that). She didn't answer me. She just flipped me off and sprinted away.

I think I could faintly hear her voice in the distance, shouting "Fuck the police."

I just sat back in the driver's seat and shut the door. Took another swig of the hot chocolate and thought,

Kids these days..



(photo via MrKate.com)