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Breaking Fall The morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have appeared like a Garden if Eden of sorts if it wasn't for the plumes of dark grey city-smoke on the horizon. The cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me...
"Mr Parker, Mr Parker!" came the shrill cries of the paparazzi as the world famous movie star fought his way from the set back to his trailer. "Could you answer a few questions?" He ignored the onslaught and pushed his way past the hordes of fans, journalists, and magazine photographers. He didn't need this, not now. He had just received the worst phone call of his life and they wanted him to interrogate him about it? "Will you give us a quote?" He
Witchcraft"It is rather unnatural for me to be here right now, but there are not natural times," the farmer said with a grim countenance. "I have come to you because I am going to die."
The witch leaned forward, surveying her guest. He was not unlike the other men who regularly came to her for advice, with simple clothes that were slightly torn and ragged but still adequate, tanned skin from his outdoor labour, and strong calloused hands from his work in the field. "And why do you believe that?"
"I have seen omens," the farmer replied. "My crops, you see, which I constantly tend to ensure their prosperity, that were grown on the same field that had grown many plentiful harvests in the past, have failed without reason. And last week I went down to the paddock where I keep my cows to find them all lying on the ground, strewn about, as they would have been standing before their lives were taken so suddenly and with no discernable cause. My farm is dead. And it is all in preparation for when I will
Pandora's BoxAt first I loathed that woman,
Pandora, who released the evils,
Into the world we live in,
And destroyed the human race.
But then I reconsidered,
For she had kept trapped the evil,
Of foresight, and had given us,
The light in the darkness,
The hero in war,
The one who nursed us from birth,
Like a glow in the fog,
Like a numb in the pain,
It is the silver lining on the cloud,
Hope, happiness, haven,
We owe it all to the woman,
Who let out all the horrors, except one,
And became both mankind's villain, and hero.
I Am WinterI warn you, I'm blizzards by the dozen,
Each surface glassy ice and powder snow,
Frost, sleet, hail, and all else that is frozen,
Is all that I am, is all that I know.
It seems that she'd been with me since the bud,
With me before I existed at all,
She said she wanted love, she took my blood,
Her teeth in my vein, she drained all my soul.
Her breath is vanilla, part of her spell,
And I thought it would be mine to keep,
I gave her my heart, she took it as well,
Like slipping into cold eternal sleep.
Lips on mine drank my warmth, she's the hunter,
I'm all that she left me, I am winter.
FearI stand, the night closing around me,
I stare into the dark whirlpool of black,
I feel the cold wind lash at my skin,
I am afraid.
Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to go,
Lost in the woods,
Stranded in a void of nothingness.
Rustling of leaves,
Frozen I stand,
My heart racing in my chest,
The silence like a thick blanket,
There is a tap on my shoulder.
I force myself to move,
TwoThe small sliver of sun that was just beginning to peak over the East cast a pale yellow light over the small park, making the drops of dew clinging to each blade of grass sparkle like a thousand diamonds. Two figures sat on the edge of the park on an old bench that once, many years ago, might have been painted green, but now had worn away to the bare, weathered wood.
The day had begun.
* * *
The figure in white took a deep breath, her short summer dress fluttering around her. She closed her eyes and began to count in her head. She wouldn't be staying long, just a minute in the frigid morning air before it would be back inside for her studies. The childhood of a future top grade private lawyer didn't have time for lazing around.
60, 59, 58, not much time. She only had a minute in the morning to ready her mind, then it would be time to go to her morning classes, followed by the day at her expensive private school, followed by more classes with professional tutors, all paid for by
Bed Time StoryI told this story to my two-and-a-half-year-old sister tonight, and if anyone is wondering who on Earth tells stories like this, just keep in mind that young children enjoy stories of just about any subject matter, as long as it flows and contains elements they like. As for my sister, she likes the planets, bunnies, paintings, and has a habit of memorising names that she hears regularly (say, politicians perhaps).
If you think this is ridiculous, well, just think of it as a very serious postmodern stream-of-consiousness piece.
You know how Mercury is a rocky ball? Well it's very small, so small in fact that it was carried by a bunny. The bunny and Mercury decided to journey to Saturn where they met a television who told them that a bird was going to land on Pluto. And then another bunny joined them, so the two bunnies, the television, and Mercury went to Pluto, where they found the bird that was landing and it was an eagle. They also found a Kevin Rudd Memorial Bunny and a Tony Abbott
Happy EndingsHappy Endings Are Just Fairytales That Haven't Finished Yet
They stand in the courtyard in their finery, the Prince of the land dressed in a majestic black tunic and the daughter of the kingdom's richest Lord draped in the glorious white silks of her gown. The people cheer as they walk past, throwing ribbons and flowers at the newlywed couple. The Prince basks in the attention, smiling and waving at the crowd as he leads his bride toward the castle gates.
It should be me.
It should be me at his side, wearing his ring, spending his wedding night. How many times had he told me that? How many times had he whispered words of love in my ear, telling me that I was the only woman for him, promising that we would be together forever?
And how many times had I believed him.
I should have known, I should have realised that a Prince like him would never marry a common girl like me. But I didn't. Instead, I lived thoughtlessly by his side as his mistress, his paramour, oblivious to the whisp
MilagroShe lay on the narrow bed, connected to an almost frightening array of tubes, needles, and drips. Snatches of conversation flitted in and out of her awareness.
" massive internal injury "
" close to death "
" no response "
" organs will fail if she does not wake soon "
She wanted to wake up. She tried so hard, but after two days of trying the small sliver of consciousness she was struggling to reach was only moving further and further away. And she was tired, so very tired.
On the fifth day she stopped fighting.
* * *
That voice. His voice.
"Evelyn, it's me, Adam."
Goodbye Adam. I'm sorry, I can't go on.
Something soft and small slipped into her hand.
"Remember the orange blossom I gave you on our wedding day? We both made promises that day. Fight this Evelyn. Wake up. Come back to me."
I can't fight anymore.
She felt something warm wrap around her fingers. Instinctively, they tightened.
"I know you can hear
The Truth The Truth
See, the funny thing with people
They like to create things
But they don't like to look
Upon their creation.
See, the funny thing with people
They like to make messes
But not clean them up.
See, the funny thing with people
Sheba Blackheart BioFull Name: Sheba Blackheart
Nick Name(s): None
Age: 18 (at death) 27 (current)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Light Grey, same as her skin
Family: Older Brother; deceased
Power(s): Energia Manipulation, Regeneration, & Transformation. More powers yet to be revealed
Abilities: Super Speed
Weapon(s): Muertos Spear, capable of extending to great lengths
Info: Sheba Blackheart, a teenage girl who sadly died too soon. Police found her murdered, along with her brother, pet dog, and a few henchmen that served under a crime lord. After being revived and given another chance at life, yet having no memory of her past, Sheba has agreed to serve her loyalty to her master, The Black Pumpkin. Most of the time when she's not carrying out orders or facing Jagers, she learns more about becoming a true Muertos from her master's teachings. Deep down within herself, she has feelings for her master, and whether she's of her own free will or not, she will stand by her maste
It's FunnyYou know, it's funny.
I never saw myself as one of those girls
That write creepy letters like this.
But alas, I am one of those girls,
I don't mean to sound weird.
I don't mean to sound like a stalker.
I don't mean to sound obsessed with you.
I guess I'm just lonely.
The day you left me
Sitting on the grass;
The wind dancing in my hair,
I didn't know what to do.
What could I do?
What was there for me?
Anyways, you need your rest.
It's very late
And you must be exhausted from putting up with me.
Go on. Sleep.
Wake up to the birds singing happily.
Wake up to a new day.
Wake up to a fresh start.
Live the mirror image of my life.
Shane-Vengeance BioFull Name: Shane Alan Poe (named himself that)
Nick Name(s): Vengeance
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Family: Abusive Father, Mother, and unmet older sister, all deceased
Weapon(s): Iron staff, capable off breaking a human skull on impact (If necessary) And an iron chain, with a length of ten feet. Both custom made, out of the toughest iron
Info: From the beginning, Shane's father always resented him for practically being the cause of the mother's passing after his birth. With no forgiveness in his heart, Shane's father abused him and denied him the comfort of a loving father. Many years later, after seeing the cruelty of society, Shane became his own persona to face against the corruption, Vengeance. Now in order to protect his newly beloved, Shane must face against the forces of which he's never seen before. No matter what happens to him, his love for Alyson will give him the will to keep figh
Fang BioFull Name: Unknown
Age: Over 2,000 years
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black with Ruby Red Pupils
Family: No longer has one
Species: Undead, Vampire
Power(s): Affliction, Teleportation, Regeneration
Abilities: Speed, Strength, Defense
Weapon(s): 9 inched Hunting Knives
Info: Long ago when he was human, he was bitten by a vampire, and was later held against his will by the Jagers after they appeared, and killed the vampire for his crimes of taking many lives. Fang later attempted to escape from the Jagers, but failed, and lost his life, he bears the giant scar on his chest to prove it. After the Jagers disposed of his body, many years past, and his body was eventually recovered by the Muertos clan leader, The Black Pumpkin. Fang now serves the Black Pumpkin for bringing him back to the living, and hopes to take his vengeance on the Jagers. Despite knowing that she's a relative of a Jager, he bears a deep passion for Rebecca-Clare Akano
Lady DeathThey think Death is the Reaper,
Carrying his scythe,
Able to disappear into vapour,
Like a shadow in light.
But no, Death takes the shape,
Of a person, a woman at that,
With a pitch black cloak a flowing cape,
A crucifix of coal, and grace like a cat.
On rhinestone boots she treads the land,
With midnight eyes she tracks her prey,
A spear of onyx in her hand,
Her hair of ink soaking up every sun's ray.
She dons a studded ebonite vest,
With denim of iron sitting on her hip
A blood stained cutlass at her wrist,
Rings of beryl through her lip.
Her ears are pierced with needle sharp bone,
Her eyelids smudged with ash,
Her mouth a deep, blood-red tone,
the colour of night on each eyelash.
So who is this Queen of Darkness?
Who can she be?
An answer finally comes to a question ageless.
Death, is me.
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More