Skin Deep [Full]Skin Deep
Disorder"What do you do?
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The Strange High House [Chapter 1-3]The Strange High HouseThe Strange High House [Chapter 1-3] by Michel-le-fou
Chapter One. Seeking Accommodations
At the crossing of East Street and Darkwood Lane, in the south side of Arkham, Massachusetts, there stands an old two-floor house with a high attic. Long-tern residents of the town claim that the house was erected only five years prior to this story and that it was not there before. Several undeniable facts lead to the construction of this house. First is that general reports about the premises agreed that south side of the town had been relatively sparsely populated even before the house was constructed, so that anyone living there would be rather reclusive. That appears to have led to the next fact. The owner of that house was reclusive. Nobody has either seen or met him at any time.
The house is two floors with a high attic. Most of its windows, which number only six including the attic window, remain unlit throughout both day and night.
The Twelfth Hour (2nd Edition)The Twelfth Hour (2nd Edition)The Twelfth Hour (2nd Edition) by Michel-le-fou
The eleventh hour has passed by
The twelfth hour is breaking
Flitting shadows in the trees
Small winged rodents fly
Innate radar honed on our bodies
Their eyes dull, they do not see
Tall, dark shadows creep into this wood
Beware the risk you are taking
Not all who pass it live to tell
Who knows when people die?
The Old Cabin (cont.)The Old CabinThe Old Cabin (cont.) by Michel-le-fou
Night in the Cabin
The strange dreams ultimately compelled the detective to spend at least one night in the premises. Naturally, he felt somewhat trepid; but he needed to learn more about the old cabin. Most important was why the two books were not burned, but he was curious as to what made the river boat captains flee.
The succeeding night, at ten p.m., he headed back to the old cabin and determined to spend the night there. Finding the door was still open, he summoned his courage and strode into it. Within seconds after that, he found and entered the bedchamber. He was not very surprised to find a five-foot wooden bedframe with four stout posts and an old mattress with a faded sheet. The dimensions of the room made him think it was larger than its actual size.
Before lying down, he felt something in the room that seemed unworldly; but he was not able to analyze or explain it. Furthermore, the air inside the room was co
The Old CabinThe Old Cabin1The Old Cabin by Michel-le-fou
There is a remote stretch of the old quarters of New Orleans that lies within reach of the Mississippi River delta. People claim that river boat captains would rest in a cabin built there between voyages. The captains discovered the cabin and found it deserted. It had only one window, on the inland side. But people also say that these men stayed only one night each turn. Something had made them run away.
Once, after the last captain had stayed and left, the municipality dispatched an investigator to investigate rumors of the cabin. This investigator was a former clerk of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, who was shifted to the municipal office in New Orleans after her forty-eighth birthday. She had served the Bureau for ten years. She was a tough, iron-willed woman of fifty-six years, standing almost six feet tall, lean, narrow-faced with hawkish eyes and wire-framed spect
Only youAnother day passes slowlyOnly you by MorganWolfram
Life keeps on fading quietly
My years have been spend worthlessly
With no feeling fraternity
I walk my way solemnly
Make my path formally
All eyes lay on me respectfully
I'm treated like the great solely
But I owe them back disgracefully
I put them aside disdainfully
I whip my worries mercilessly
I am a powerful weapon ultimately
But my bullets are stunned by you so suddenly
Your Kindness shoed away my troubles so charmingly
You helped me upon my feet willingly
You expected nothing back unconditionally
From that moment my mind was on you individually
Even with all the fuss; you smile caringly
Pain was caused and you suffered sensitively
But you said regrets will go gradually
I don't care if there is no money surprisingly
You changed me astonishingly
I won't let a burden fall on you, even mistakenly
How can you be so gentle admiringly?
Don't hesitate to hold my hand tightly
But please keep smiling constantly
My eyes shall remain for you promisingly
I shall love
Scorched 1.1The moment the train stopped, she rushed out of her seat, ran out of the door, pushed her way through the morning crowd, and sprinted to the University. It was just her luck that her train broke down the day of an important exam. She wound up taking a different train which came later than its arrival time. Her eyes were fixed on her watch and her hand was securely on her book bag.Scorched 1.1 by Erin-Lynne
"What happened this time?" the receptionist asked Prishe as the Asterian burst through the doors of the University. She didn't look up from the desk but Prishe could hear the shuffling of papers as if she was reaching for something.
The young Asterian laughed uneasily and signed in. "The train broke down. I can't talk; I've got to get to class!" she replied, darting down the hall.
She took the stairs, figuring that they would be faster, but was quickly flooded by students. She was determined, however. She had never been late before and she wasn't about to start. Not caring who she plowed by, she continued tak
Scorched P.1She woke abruptly to the beginning of her favorite song—a loud, energetic low-brass song—and fell out the chair of her desk. She hit her head on the side of her bed and had knocked over several sheets of paper which were now littered around her. A groan passed her lips as she removed her headphones. The light in the room made her eyes sting until they adjusted. Her blueprints, essays, and medicine homework were on top of her bare legs, making her nerves tingle.Scorched P.1 by Erin-Lynne
After sitting in the odd position for a while, she took a glance at her watch. It was going to be a couple of hours before her regular alarm would go off. She sighed, stiffly collected her work, set them aside, and got up. Every muscle in her back and legs were screaming at her, but she paid little attention to it as she yawned and stretched.
She sat on her bed next to her work and stared at the walls for a while, collecting her thoughts. She would have classes today, and her work needed to be done, That way she woul
Rise of JERICO-- ProloguePrologueRise of JERICO-- Prologue by Erin-Lynne
The room was silent as he sat there, reading his book intently. A few candles were lit around the room, casting an eerie shadow across the figure. Two years he had spent in solitude, never leaving his mansion, since the end of the of the war. He rarely came in contact with people, unless it was one of the AMBROS prisoners that needed to be punished. Everyone who knew of him feared him; he treated none with mercy.
His name was Viare.
Lightning flashed outside as the rain began to patter on his window. He put his book down when he heard a metal ping of a kicked gate outside. He stood to his feet and looked outside his window to see a man with soaked, fiery red hair jump off the barrier gate. Viare curled a slight smile on his face. “Again? When will he learn?” he murmured to himself. He turned from the window and left his room.
The guards were startled by his presence. “Send the hounds. It seems our guest hasn’t been broken in. Bring him back
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 10CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 10 by HewhoDrawsALOT
IN DARK WOODS
The sun had finally poked the very brim of its head over the wall after spending most of the day showering the other side with its warmth of light. Noon had arrived and the chill but loyal shadows departed on the direction of a cold shine. Deep barking was booming at the secluded demon. He was alone at his liar located near the outskirts of the wilds, save for the brawny hound and its rebuking dally. This place was a lone foundation. Cracked and fragmented, there were only a couple of support beams standing with nothing to hold, and a single crumbling wall. Vines were breaking through the cemented earth and had been climbing the walls for so long now that it was a splatter of green. Littering the area was a mass of browning, dead leaves. Every blow of air would break the silence as the dead fauna would be called to do their scraping, clumsily orchestrated waltz. Such noise could not have been helped. As for the ot
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 9CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 9 by HewhoDrawsALOT
From the peak of the wall he had fallen. In a nose dive, the shrouded dragon had become a falcon grazing the colossal structure as it fell. With the wings of his rags folded close to his skin, he looked like a phantom bullet cutting through the sky as it crashed to the earth. After falling for so long he was approaching the tree line. Then, just as a swooping bird would, the shrouded dragon expanded. Stretching his legs wide, he opened his tattered rags. This cape of his was not in the best condition but its weavings were tight enough that air would not escape through it. With the added resistance in his legs the rate of his acceleration decreased for an opportune instant .The canopy was fast approaching so he merely repositioned himself. As he twisted his body his blooded eyes probed for that moment when his footing was just right, and, when it found it, fire sprang forth. The bursting inferno propelled him off the wall, and th
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 8CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 8 by HewhoDrawsALOT
THE LADY AND THE DRAGON
There he was. He had moved from his hidden place on the spine of the wall at midnight, and found himself back where he had been before. From then on, he remained here, at the shadowy edge of the tree stand. But now the morning was peaking over the east sea. The night, and the dark that basked in it, were on the retreat. He knew he would soon have to flee as well, along with the black, for the demon’s hour had ended with the sun’s slow march over the skyline. Vinced had returned to this very spot as well, for a third time in fact. He sat in the exact same place too – beneath her blooming tree – and this is where he had hoped to find tranquility. Having been hounded by the intruder however, Vinced would not feel the serenity that this place provided, not while he loomed.
The trespasser never would have dared to tread upon her sapling, for it was rooted on land illuminated. Asid
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 7CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 7 by HewhoDrawsALOT
NIOMI S. CAITLYN
Dawn shined its way into her room through the window. Beaming into her face, she was awoken by the day star. With her scunchy having fallen out during the night, her hair was a glossy fire of orange as it spread across her bed. She wiped the orange threads from her face as she slowly leaned upward. Rubbing the sands from her eyes with one hand and covering the wideness of her yawn with the other, Niomi’s movements were creeping along like a tired sloth. She reached for her phone on the night stand, falling back down into the comfort of her mattress as she drifted. With her face buried in the sheets, she felt along the wood of her dresser until her hands came into contact with the rubber casing of her phone. Dragging it off of the nightstand, she peeked at it with an eye half open. It was early, much earlier then she usually woke up. She took a double-take, and her eye went wide at the realization. But hey, she was up now.
Because of her early ri
Shroomy and her Melancholy state of AffairsForward from this: http://hebbybobdige.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d5hapii sceneShroomy and her Melancholy state of Affairs by Hebbybobdige
Okay let's discuss Shroomy and her completely un-endearing un-cheerful and un-attractive state of affairs. Firstly you must realise that Shroomy's life was far more dismal than most. Those at her school find her (in their own words) a 'skanky, ugly, creepy little bug-eyed weirdo'
You see when somebody isn't what you would consider 'normal' people have a tendency to ridicule or be afraid of this person. Shroomy being no exception to this, she would spend her time at school sat alone on a table muttering strange things to her only friend who was named 'Scarlett' and she could be seen only by Shroomy. Whilst the rest of the class formed their own, chattery little groups consisting mainly of people who would consider a scruffy, bug-eyed girl constantly whispering scary things to herself a strange sight indeed, therefore nobody wanted to talk to her.
You may or may not know that somebody who exists in
ConfessionHow come I feel so weakConfession by AlilliceMFC
while all you give is love?
That sparkle in your peek
is all I'm dreaming of.
In warmth of your tight hug,
my heart is left to scream,
for if you leave, I'm stuck,
"Is your love but a dream?"
My fear leaves me all blind
for all you've shown to me
and I am yet to find
what you want me to see.
Still darkness follows close
to muffle your intent.
I hope the road I chose
will make me understand.
A City Caught AflameAs I stand atop a trainA City Caught Aflame by TerramArmsXIII
I can feel the searing pain
The People's blood boiling hot
While I look at the corpses beginning to rot.
Why this city was destroyed, another group claiming us the enemy.
Don't you think this is getting redundant, come up with a better strategy.
Is sociably talking about your issues that much of a bane?
Or is it better to set a population of millions aflame?
Terrorism, bombs, attacks, can they all just end.
Why is there so many lives these people want to bend?
Was Goto, the Twin towers, were these not enough?
Or do you truly wish to send this entire world into a stinking rut.
I am here to say enough is enough, this violence for political agenda has got to die
Aren't we all sick and tired of hearing the politicians and extremist groups lie?
“This person is not human”, dehumanization at it's best.
If this keeps up, all cities will be able to rest,
like this one, because everything here, is gone.
VoicelessSilence as I'm waiting,Voiceless by AlilliceMFC
waiting for your call
'cause in the moment of redemption,
it's the moment when I fall.
I chose you to be my savior.
I chose you to be my doom.
In this time of dehydration,
it's the season when I bloom.
Silence as I'm crying,
while I'm laughing to the world
'cause you got me to believe you,
yet regretting every word.
And I feel my heart is breaking
in every moment of content.
And I feel the joy is rising
for the sadness will not end.
Silence as I'm fraying,
for this pleasure shattered me
'cause you left me here still broken,
for the world so clear to see.
In this moment as you leave me,
I will pick up every piece.
It will haunt me yet forever
'cause the pain will never cease.
.photographs of me..photographs of me..photographs of me. by Amanda-Graham
There’s smoke still hanging in the air; lurking low and white, like a Frisco fog but thicker ‘cept where the air blows it in long stringy threads like sour milk drifting in the sink water. It’s a throw-away zone thing. It stinks of oil and sulfur and hot tar bubbling in summer; ‘cept it ain’t summer. You’d think that stuff that burnt in winter would smell like the sides of Cali cliffs in flame wouldn’t ya? Doesn’t though. There’s no incense scent to it. No tight wound drift of pot, or myrrh or pretty pine Christmas trees piled up and flaming after collection. It’s a seething slurry of bad industry burning.
People are standing round in twos and threes watching it as little ash whirlwinds dance spirals in the heat that's still hanging onto hot spots. It’s warm enough now, just above 0 degrees C, that the water they’d pumped is wet on charred
. rail .. rail .. rail . by Amanda-Graham
It’s a misnomer; an absent appliance, robbery of the worse sort. The bar’s not got one though named as though it would hold some premiere placement. In this city it should be gleaming brass and a minimum of two inches in diameter, rolled and shaped and bracketed along the styles and sheathing of a gleaming dark-polished wooden front-piece. It should be history. Misapplication and misdirection; the crumbling edifice is still maintained but slovenly; some miscreant remembrance of the sixties or seventies when people still believed a Jetsons™ future were possible. It carries its appellation based solely on location; nearby is a stop on the city’s trumpeted transport line, the “L".
“Fuck this Susan.” “Give it a chance.” “Really?” “Yeah, it’s not awful and some of the guys here are just too sweet.” I turn and stare openly,
Mommy loved...Alright, we're going to go visit Mommy.Mommy loved... by Everlasting90
Why are we going?
Because it would mean a lot to her. She loved you.
No, she didn't.
How can you say that?
Because it's true. If she loved us, she wouldn't have left us.
That's not fair. She had a problem. She tried to give it up.
But she didn't. She loved the pills more than us. That's why she left.
OG's of OlympusFADE IN:OG's of Olympus by StevenGilby
Cars are driving through the busy streets. One guy, Marcus, stands on the cold street corner smoking a cigarette in an open frenzy. Another guy, Dorian, comes running across the crosswalk as the light ticks to red. He’s calm but his nose and cheeks are red from the cold.
Lemme bum a smoke. You got a flask? Mine’s empty.
Marcus holds an open pack and lighter in one hand for Dorian. After putting them away, he grabs a flask of blueberry sherry from his inner coat pocket and hands it to him. It has a two crossed broadswords on it.
Chilly as hell today.
Dorian looks around after a silent moment smoking, not seeing what he wanted to.
Where’s EDDIE at? I told him 3 o’clock. It’s almost 5. Is he ever on time for anything?!
Well, I got good news, better news, and bad news.
Dorian is visibly irate at the existence of bad news.
Start with the good, move to
Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) Amongst the light foot falls of officers going about their tasks, one set stood out as it sounded louder through the precinct, heading from the entrance over to the holding cells. The man to whom these foot falls belonged was tall; about six-four, and thin; not lanky, but like a bean-pole. His black slacks danced on the top of his black shoes, his dark-blue tie wriggled ever so slightly under the slight heaving of the man’s chest, but his bluish-gray waistcoat held it to his faded sky-blue shirt.Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) by BDancinJones
The man slowed himself down, actually stopping to tap his slightly damp forehead with his sleeve, before turning the last corner into the viewing side of the interrogation room. He proceeded to enter the room, and did so with a certain swagger in his walk and a sly smile sitting in the corner of his mouth. In the room stood a mid-twenties woman in work-place formal dress and an early-thirties officer in uniform. On the left wa
.deepening..deepening..deepening. by Amanda-Graham
I am distracted, knowing it shows, watching as it grows. Trying to keep centered acquisition and shedding onto others recognitions. Long too far to go; goading myself for lost concentration. You remember, do you, our Greek oared trireme passages? Take me home.
заточенного лезвия ветра
кристаллической решетки полых призраки
по коже охлажде
. rocket science .. rocket science .. rocket science . by Amanda-Graham
... with her, love was rocket science after all ...
... the only moments in which our eyes met, locked, and looked steadily was when we fucked; that's Asperger's with both of us ...
... "drive out in the desert and meet me, i'm waiting, i'm wet” ...
... photos of her gate in that small place on the hillside, her garden, a squirrel, the surf where she always belonged ...
... her in the clubs, library, avoiding passing people, staring at the sidewalks, cars, windows, wishing she were back in Paris again ...
... whispering in French to each other, she would laugh and i would tickle, my French was so awful ...
... unlike any other she kept me abreast of her days, fully informed, i felt safe in her arms ...
... still so many stubs of her and i, small notes kept safe from travel, tucked here and there so that now i find her over and over ...
a note in a margin
small tattered fabric
pressed flower she'd pl
.it was just a name after all..it was just a name after all..it was just a name after all. by Amanda-Graham
To be obsessed with someone who is negligent at best … is that search for satisfying the insatiable the reason for this place? Is it why I always remain? A revenant with such violent demands and capabilities my body could never sustain? Which of us is truly the psychotic spirit obsessed?
Psychic or physical – I impose impacts paranormal. Let me in. Picking your single voice from this hiss white noise, fading in and then back out in clarity; you singing with that soft drawl; your songs of loneliness. Is it just bait laid to entrap? Do you dwell in life so deeply longing that I’m on your breath? Move in with me to this space of emptiness that I possess, that is what my heart pumps cold and damp, parched and longing, starved and demanding I’ll thump your walls and taste your hungers. Surrender, but retain your strength, yield to pleasures the human only drips in ink; t
. tentative .. tentative .. tentative . by Amanda-Graham
I, in duplicate, reply.
"How are you?"
in reply i
"to make this easy; I'm fine."
out for snack
"Nice to see you again."
"Ja, you look good."
minimal, she's beautiful
takes a while
"That your hand?"
hoping she's oblivious
off key first
mezzo alto joined
defining love as
we’ll be fine
© Amanda 2014
Image: "whispers" by :iconbeyondimpression: © 2014
The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 1The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 1 by Ooakfeather
The Reaping will be tomorrow. Everyone in District Four is trying their hardest to keep their minds off of it by indulging themselves in hard work at the oceans. Instead of working and moving around, I find myself sitting in the sand, soundlessly watching as the people nearby knot fishnets. I won't have much to worry about this year. My twin brothers are only eleven, so they won't have to enter the Reaping until next year. I'm only fourteen, and with the three members of my family, I do have to take tesserae, but luckily, it's only in twelve times. I shouldn't be as worried as much as others, but I find that I actually am. The thought of it is frightening. I can hardly handle a spear, killing a fish is mighty easy... But a human being?
I look up from my thoughts and find Annie Odair walking on the beach with her fourteen year old son, Finn. I'm not exactly sure why, but in District Four, we find them to be lege
The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 2The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 2 by Ooakfeather
The morning felt short, and worry was setting back in my mind. We made our beds back, and I got ready in my turquoise dress. Mother put up my hair in a ponytail, and set the bow perfectly. I am ready. The happiness from last night is gone, and I walk out of the house with my brothers and mother, hand in hand. We take the path to the town square, as well as the rest of our District, walking in rows as a family. Either teary eyed or shaking, trying to hold back the tears. Trying to think that their own family will stay whole another year.... But the hope is lost to us. Both of my brothers are shaking, and I can tell by the grim face on my mother, she isn't doing well either. I try to keep a firm hold on myself, making sure to try and stay calm and settled so not to worry them, but it's a very difficult task to accomplish.
When it's time for us to part ways, I give each of them a kiss on the cheek, and whisp
.-.Silence.-. [Scourge X Reader]私の愛の沈黙は沈黙を守ってたことがないはずです。.-.Silence.-. [Scourge X Reader] by galewings
keep in mind that this takes place after World War ll
The deep laughter of crows reached the peaks of the sky, giving the battered place some hiff of it's silence. Vultures snickered and cackled amongst their grubby meal of a rabbit carcass, their skin-bared heads making quick movements as their battered beaks snipped and poked at the motionless body. The dead rabbit's fur was wet, covered in blood and the vulture's saliva. The mice that flees amongst the worn town sniffed, peeped, and stuck their tongues out at the vulture's careless work of a meal. Even though they were cute, yet disease-filled on their part, the black cat had to agree, the mice were right on being disgusted of the vulture's filling.
Scourge knocked a rusted can over to the side carelessly has his ov
Flight of the EagleIt was the last week of university. Classes were complete, exams were taken. It was the time for the students to find a job. Lucy sighed as she perused the job choices. None of job offerings appealed to her. She didn't want to be stuck behind the desk; she wanted to be out and about. Adventure and action were her calling. She logged out off the computer and got up.Flight of the Eagle by tyw7
Maybe I needed a breather. Time to cool my head. Lucy thought.
She headed to the wardrobe. She grabbed a towel and disrobed. Although age has filled her in considerably since her stick figure days, Lucy wasn't particularly curvaceous. In fact she was stronger than most typical girls (or boys). She was sure she could take even the strongest bullies in a fist fight and win.
Staring at the mirror, she could see faint scars that covered her face. She paused at the one that under her left eye. The same mark that she had sustained when monst
The Dragon SlayerThe Dragon Slayer by thwackcrackers
“King Pharlas is the greatest scourge of our age. His insidious acts and tenacious wartime tactics have more than earned him the seat of his people three times over. He hungers for greater conquests and has set his sights upon Amas. Dimahth’s voice sings in his head, corrupting his mind and subduing his soul to do his bidding. Gods be with all the brave of Amas, for this is not a man that will be defeated so easily.” – Ryn’ver’ayf describing the Ghovian King
The dragonelle foolishly believed herself safe, secluded and protected from the harshness of the Ghovian wasteland. She ignorantly rested in the abandoned mines of the once great Elven Dominion, hoping that the shroud of darkness would shield her activities from the prying eyes of those who would wish her ill will. Now, her blood was staining the ancient tunnels in glistening waves, pouring freely from the open gates of her rended flesh.
About her, four Ghovians mercilessly laid
To Hug a DragonJacky and Chris solemnly pushed their way deeper into the eerie vault. The labyrinth of hallways and crevices were littered with the dead of their slain foes: goblin, troll, and bandit alike rent the air with the rotting stench of their decaying bodies. Only the glistening sweat dripping from their brows, and the gleaming shimmer of their swords lit the path to the set of ornate double doors that marked their final destination.To Hug a Dragon by thwackcrackers
Chris, panting profusely, rested himself tiredly against the door, letting his sword rest limply at his side. "Gods dammit, whatever is inside this vault must be pretty damn important for an army to be guarding it."
Jacky stopped not six feet from her companion, nursing a fresh wound which painfully bruised her arm. "It must be pretty important to elicit our attention." Her eyes gleamed as if enthralled in a euphoric trance. "Treasure beyond imagining. Even with splitting the profits we'll be able to buy a country, each."
"Was it worth it?" Chris asked, a rhetor
The Riddler's WoodUlureia trotted silently through the dense woodland which ran parallel to the blighted Barrens, a scorched patch of earth extinguished of shimmering beauty and life through years of magical and conventional warfare. The centaur youth exited her home at the tearful embrace of her sickly mother, who pleaded for her to remain vigilant and safe. It was the war over the Barrens, after all, that took the life of her father and many of her kind.The Riddler's Wood by thwackcrackers
Now, Ulureia was the last vanguard of her bloodline, a single ember of light burning in a dark world. Her ailing mother, who kept to the home while she was away, fell victim to the Goblin Rash; a malignant virus which seeped out of the devastated Barrens. Green rashes and splotches of hideous black marred her figure. Her bones fell feeble and her once vibrant heart seemed to be siphoned by the illness.
Ulureia could only pray for a quick death for her mother. No manner of magic of elixirs could cure this newly bred infection. A wet tear st
The Pit Fiend of the NessusGrayson poised himself proudly at the far corner of the circular arena. Pits of lava lined the exterior and the painful harrowing of demons fed through the many corridors leading into the battleground from where he stood. Across from him, his malice-driven, snake-bodied opponent slithered back and forth, eyeing him with those glittering, otherworldly eyes. Even under her soulless gaze, Grayson knew that even mariliths bled; even mariliths could be killed.The Pit Fiend of the Nessus by thwackcrackers
Her six arms hoisted an array of serrated, demonic weapons which vied to cleave, bludgeon, and gut him limb from limb. Her sinuously long and armored snake-like tail slid rather elegantly along the blood stained metal arena floor. Grayson patted himself down, a habitual examination he did before every fight. His obsidian-red plate armor moved with unmatched balance and grace. He smiled to himself, knowing he wasn't sacrificing protection for the sake of agility unlike his rival.
To the side of both combatants sat a mighty throne
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 6CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 6 by HewhoDrawsALOT
BETWEEN THE WORLD SEAMS
The boy was resting, high on top of the grand wall that kept the wilds at bay. The sun had disappeared with the westward rotation, and its sky blue blanket was dragged along behind it. In the absence of the day’s light, the nocturnal shadow had cast its own veil. Darkness would creep out to fill the nightly voids, but it was not wholly free during this recess. The moon served as its glowing warden. Vinced’s lunar gaze had been blessed with the ability to cut through black, but they were mere candles in the wake of this celestial keeper. As he looked out from his roost, on top of the colossal divide, he was able to see by the light of night’s glowing orb. From his venue, Vinced found that the wall abided by its sole charge. Lying right on top of it, he sat on the very line of two worlds: the city of man, and the wilds of nature. But this was not the only rim that the boy found himself balancing on. Because of the wall
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 5CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 5 by HewhoDrawsALOT
TAKE ROOT AND BOND
The sky was a blanket of golden dusk. Through the veil of blending orange and yellow birds were fluttering in a crisscross as they made their way home. Singing their evening songs, all who had taken the peaceful tour to their refuge were allowed to enjoy it. Walking within the resident area he had woken up by, Vinced saw that things were different during the sunset. As opposed to the stillness of the morning dew, little people had begun to emerge from their dens and cause their own little ruckus. Mounted on tricycles and bikes, scooters and skates, the kids road in circles while others chased one another in good fun. A few animal kin couldn’t help but join in. Small dogs and puppies, woofing their tiny woofs, were the most prevalent. Pattering along on their stumpy legs, the balls of fluff pursued their owners unbothered by the notion that they would never catch them. Even so, when they did, the rambunctious li
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 4CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 4 by HewhoDrawsALOT
A while after Niomi darted off, Vinced departed from her tree and began to walk toward the city. By venturing through the woods that gapped the modest neighborhoods, traversing the increasing number of roads, and cutting through the highway break offs, Vinced made it to the living heart. On his way there however, the boy took note of the gradual shift in foundation. The vast sea of grass and trees had been more then pushed aside. They had been deliberately buried. However, this was not done merely in the name of modernization. Near the city, where the ground had been left naked, the lush green had begun to transform into a scarred yellow or an ashen brown. These drearies were only apparent in the back alleys of the dusty ghettos, but the intent was clear. Hide the wounds in hopes of forgetting the pain.
Unseemly craters of the past aside, most places were made to sparkle. The center, where Vinced found himself, was such a place. The sapphire
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 3CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 3 by HewhoDrawsALOT
“ Umm…Excuse me,” the girl jittered. The red in her face was beginning to drain as she had begun to rain in any emotions still in a flurry.
The boy jumped at the sound of her voice. His shoulders then pinned themselves up as his neck sunk into the valley between them. He peaked over the pensive ridge of his shoulders, hiding the tightness of his jaw as well as the twisted anxiety splattered on the whole of his expression.
She had turned to face him and left herself exposed in comparison. Where she could only see the cutting edge of his moonlight eyes, she allowed him to look upon the fading filler of blush still on her cheeks in addition to the brightness of her gaze. Not at all bothered by the disadvantage, but still a little spooked by the void of his pupils, she continued on. “…I just wanted to know if you were okay…”
Still ducking behind the shield that was his shoulder blades, the boy’s scowl looked
. memes to dismember me with .. memes to dismember me with .. memes to dismember me with . by Amanda-Graham
We want to know who we are, and alone, we find no answers. We turn to the eyes of others inquiring, "Do you know me?" At times we suffer their silences. Much later, in those moments where endings are being approached, we wonder, ‘Was it what they saw of me?’ or ‘Had I made other choices, at some point earlier on, would this moment have been avoided?’
Our meanings, seeing ourselves, occur only as echoes. The sound of footsteps in dark alleys, in Marseille perhaps, where I was uncertain in my language, so involved in thinking that I missed what it was she said softly. I caught only the words "... your beauty is too subtle." These years later, it's come upon me that that was her goodbye and I'd been damned by looking with microscopes at what I thought I was seen as, and that she'd seen what I truly was.
Our minds are flavored by all of the accumulated histori
Choice in the DirectionIf being gay is a choice, then so is being straight, bi, etc..Choice in the Direction by Everlasting90
The truth is we can't choose the feelings,
but we can choose the direction.
. fortune cookie messages .. fortune cookie messages .. fortune cookie messages . by Amanda-Graham
what you want
leather an lather
mirror reflects a glimmer'n light
tilt of helmet
booted and grimacing
- remembers –
' ... i'm about ... '
her loyalty and love
precision of her self-assessment
countered only by the weight
of the rocks tucked in her dress
sisters of the shadows
blurred in passing
ouuuu Clive Barker? umm errr wot about
Hemingway - dead
Plath - still dead
Pynchon - doesn't really exist
my list is long and plays like a wax-tube recording
names and places those writers and poets roamed
while I remained a child trapped by obligations
only reading, imagining, formed scenes far from home
not a come on
simply a moment of
Chapter 1: The Tempest
Young Nyck awoke to the muffled roaring of crashing waves. The shaking boom of thunder seemed to clear his eardrums. His eyelids opened, revealing a blurred vision of lightning striking out of a dark blue overcast sky. He felt his body rock up and down.
Nyck's vision clarified, the lightning striking out of the sky was a pale blue. The smell of rain and the seawater entered his nose. As he lifted himself up, he realized he had been lying on the damp floor of a launch. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he looked around at his nautical surroundings.
Nyck placed a hand on his throbbing head. What happened? How did I get here? Is this a dream? The last thing he remembered was staring at the ceiling of his hotel room from his warm bed, trying to fall asleep.
The undulation of the boat assured him that this was no dream. His stomach felt it was dropping.
Three piles of damp ash surrounded him, some of it spilled from the heaps. He frowned at the mounds. Where did they come from?
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