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Daunted ReverieI grab the sheets and feel with fingertips
A chilled fabric, testament of
life without you
This quiet sleep without dreams
While the night still holds bright stars
And I gaze out the window wondering
if you ever will exist
Where I can hold you close and
A chiding laugh and I close my eyes
There is a whole lot of sky between
you and I
Which to a dreamer is not so daunting
But my wings are papier-mâché
Tearing in the collected rain of
this brutal reality
In which I can only close my eyes
In RememberanceIn Remembrance
Therein lies this emptiness
That simply wades through veins, festering
And spreading to every inch of the body
Where no one can see but choose to
And I long for the words to find
A way to simply scrape the surface
But they disintegrate before exposure
To a mind so consumed and devastatingly
Vacant where we were meant to spark
And create this growing life
To bring to a world where most want to sweep
Embarrassments and difficulties under
No meter or rhyme can clean it up
When something is indescribable
As the flickering elephant in the room
But even still my smile is sewn, my lips
All I know is the patience for inevitability
Because the world is temporary and
To drop anchor here is suicide for those
Who cannot swim amidst valueless waves of
But as the minute hand skitters the time steps
And I feel it slip into an abyss of abstractions
The world stands still for a split millennia of
Falling tears and stilled breath as I feel you for a
Within the Drum Within the Drum
The copper crept from within, a slow oozing trail staining its way. The notion that something wasn't quite right startled her awake. It was dark out still and she felt it weighing her down, a claustrophobic blanket of restriction. She reached up with soft fingertips, confused to graze a sticky path up her neck. The rough trail on her skin introduced a precipice of acceptance and the recollection of the doctor's warning. A lightning bolt hit and jolted her body out of its sleeping fold and into a tense knot. Turning her head slowly she waited for the next strike as the rockets burst in her head.
A Teaspoon For DrowningI visit many deviant profiles for writers and think to myself, "That could be me. They are so put together. Their writing just screams I AM ME! So little words, so many emotions. Truly beautiful and wonderful in a sparkly blender of Hellz yes!"
Fuck. Testing testing .where is your voice?
Not over here.
Venom Veracity Venom Veracity
I drink a cup of coffee, the aroma of a sigh enveloped by my skin. A tranquil moment. Pensive.
Perhaps if I had known that he would drag her away by the wrists, I might have skittered along the time steps. Avoiding the sparkling stars, their sharp edges never to slice her forearms. The crimson congealing to my skin, so chafed. Bleeding rubies.
Some secrets scuttle into the cracks. And words cannot survive the violence of the mutilation. The clenched jaw, starving screams. I carried the naïveté of her in a pen, ebony splashes dancing. When the water refuted the stars, she lost balance. Catch her.
Held in splintered animosity, the grin of victory scal
The AshesNo one can touch us anymore. You must have not known or else you would be here with me. Right?
Our world is burning
The song is beautiful. It reaches out and grasps my dying fingers. Like a Polaroid, the emotions slowly come into focus, colors and details getting more and more brilliant
I begin to cry. How do I show you? My words have died and they are decaying within me. My tears are ink, and they drop to the burning world, stained and unrecognizable to any who cared to take a look. If I had been able to show you, would then you have stayed for me?
I screamed, the sky r i p p l e d
You didnt notice. You have forgotten how to look up.
You just never cared like I always did
Listening, watching, waiting
Dawns PreludeRetreat is quiet and swift. I sit up, soft sheets falling around my hips as I blink blue depths, ever staring in the distance. Like the sparklers' story, it is fading before my eyes with sparks dying, though I saw its brilliance but moments ago. Stumbling out of bed in a daze, I try to grasp hold of Times retreating veil. He is too fast for me.
I must find the pieces of my dream. Each spark of it slipped out of consciousness and between the cracks of reality in mere seconds. Tearing at the earth, I stretch and reach, longing to skim the tips of my fingers along their rippling frames. The ritual of it all consumes my waking moments.
But before I know it, the sun spins her dance among the clouds, finally taking her bow into the horizon. She retreats into the waking realm as the stars take their cue. They open the gates and the obsidian waters cascade over the sky, trickling onto my world. I look to the ground again, my dream faintly glowing as sparks crackle and leap in
Requiem A muted landscape sits beneath the dark heavens. You step upon it, a scream sewn into your lips. The thread burns.
You are running, but why? For what is it that you seek? What do you hope to accomplish?
But you cannot answer these questions can you? You were the one that took the needle to your lips.
The moon is solid, unmoving. You thank God it has ceased its descent of drowning in the water. Perhaps then you can catch up. The wind stumbles alongside you, losing strength, a frightening thought. Why are you running?
If only your skin would slide off and let you fly. But you are contained, restricted: a mirror to yesterday. Now there is no time. She suffocated whilst fate outlined her neck in gnarled fingers. Dont watch, just run.
Denial is simply the façade of reality who ba
The WeakeningGrief of gray, the silent trespasser
Descends with splintered wings
Their beat a rhythmic epidemic
A scratching within my being
Once impassioned with yearning
The framework for our own lives
As we tread somewhere in the middle
Between the seasons evolving intellect
Now all is the mask of Façade
Through these drowning eyes
As desire and beauty diminish
Cutting oxygen of the souls language
Loss amidst the tranquil second
While the lifeless gray scars within
Severing lifelines to my passions
Oh sorrow, if I only
There’s a vacant house at the end of my block. I’ve lived in this neighborhood for almost a year, but I never really paid any attention to it. Like any vacant house in a neighborhood with kids, it has its stories; most kids say it's haunted, surprise surprise. All the kids at school are too cowardly to do anything but tell “spooky” stories about it, ha, wimps. Not me, I’m going to do something about it. Today, I’m going to explore it.
I’m on my front steps now, wielding only a small flashlight. Don’t need a camera, not like I’m going to see anything interesting. I told my mom I'm going to go play with some kids from school. Then, finally, get off the steps and down onto the sidewalk.
The vacant house is only half a bl
[Creepypasta] We're expecting.It took us almost two years of trying,two years of waiting, of being let down and two awful years of losing that small ray of hope that was invested in our hearts,waiting to have that little someone that would call me dad and call Michelle, mom. The last time we tried, we were notified that Michelle was not able to conceive a child. I tried so hard to look at the bright side, to cheer her up. But I saw, oh I saw, how the lights faded from her beautiful emerald eyes and how her beautiful smile, it looked so nervous and hopeful, turned into a sorrowful one. She didn't cry, something I expected her to do once she was told.
How I wish that was the reaction she gave, when she was told she wouldn't be able to have children that looked like us. Maybe a beautiful girl with wavy long locks like her mother that would inherit my hazel eyes, or a little boy with her mesmerizing emerald eyes and my ebony hair. None of that would come, it all came down to a silently awkward ride back h
Creepypasta: I Don't Want to be Part of Your WorldCreepypasta: I Don’t Want to be Part of Your World
September 27, 2014
This is Alex Pierce, reporting in his journal on the off chance that this expedition accomplishes anything it was supposed to. Personally, I think this whole thing is a snipe hunt. There’s no way someone could have survived in the Amazon for this long, but reports of a “wild man” in these parts have bolstered the Morrison’s confidence that their son might have survived that plane crash. God, how long ago would that have been? Five, six, maybe seven years? I didn’t read the report, to be honest. Not like I need to. No chance in Hell that he’s anything but a carcass. We’ll go in here, find nothing, report back as such, shatter their hopes and get the remaining half of our payment. All in a day’s work.
There is one interesting thing that bears mentioning though. As the helicopter was touching down I noticed a few contrails of smoke on the horizon, indicating a brush
The Haunted Mansion: Dracula WG - CH.3Chapter 3
It was the second night in the Hellsing Manor. There was a small coming room situated next to the dining room. Dracula retired in that room, and it had a cozy redwood coffin for his convenience. But the vampire had to struggle to fit in the casket because his bulging gut was almost too large to fit. He finally managed to squeeze in and went to sleep.
The vampire woke up around midnight. He stumbled out of the casket and exited the door. Something caught his eyes. On the floor, a plate of warm muffins next to his feet. Dracula wasted no time at munching on the muffins. A wonderful smell wafted in the hallway and it found a way to his nose, signaling breakfast time.
Dracula stepped into the dining room with the familiar site of bountiful food on the table. Almost every dish was present: scrambled eggs, hickory smoked bacon, buttered toast, pancakes & waffles flavored buttermilk, chocolate, blueberry, and banana. More on the list was omelets, smoked sausages, French toast, a
INFORMATION LEAK~ BRINEARY'S TRUE IDENTITY.INFORMATION LEAK~ BRINEARY'S TRUE IDENTITY.
WHAT IF I TOLD YOU...
This whole entire time, Brineary wasn't originally from Minecraft?
But from an
What I’m saying He’s technically an Alien AI/Entity/poltergeist thing. That Destroys things for the fun of it.
After hiding this since I created ths "Herobrine copy" I finally told you all the truth.
*THE MORE YOU KNOWWWW*
Fantasy Films Adventures - Red Waters (4)
Palladon, Alex and Vitaly met with Hubert on the docks of New York Bay. They were standing before a large fishing yacht bearing the name, “S.S. Yabba.” A young, pot-bellied lion with a dark brown mane stepped out from the cabin area.
“Ahoy, mates! Captain Furry at your services!” the young lion replied as he leapt onto the peer.
“Cap, I’d like you to meet…” Hubert said.
“Alex the Lion!” Captain Furry interrupted. “The King of New York City in person.”
“The one and only,” Alex replied conceitedly.
“This is truly an honor!” Captain then turned to face Vitaly and Palladon. “And who are these two?”
“I’m Vitaly and he is Palladon,” Vitaly replied.
“New comers to the zoo, I’ll bet.”
“We don’t live in a zoo!”
“You don’t? So what have you been doing these days, Alex?”
Micropasta: An Austere Sort of TruthMicropasta: An Austere Sort of Truth
“Sensory deprivation”. Those two words, innocuous as they might seem, have come to define this eternity I have spent in here. My only connection to the outside world is the breathing apparatus that prevents me from drowning, floating in this tank of pitch-dark water. I have long since forgotten who I am or why I am being experimented upon, if my cooperation was willing or coerced, what my past life was and how long I have been caught in this dreamless sleep.
And yet, here in this limbo, this no-man’s-land between real and unreal, I have never felt more alive. I see him, Niisha, the one who is called Sanity’s Anthesis. The God of Secrets, grasping outwards from the furthest recesses of my mind. Entreating me to join the others.
The others. All those in Human history who have lost feeling, who lost all hope, who came to be dead to this world. Niisha watches over us, gives us purpose. I am ready to reach back and accept his offe
Creepypasta: A Routine CheckupCreepypasta: A Routine Checkup
Damn, looks like we’re fresh out of anesthetic. Eh, a gag soaked in brandy works equally well-oh, sorry, I’m just talking to myself. It’s so nice of you to come in for an appointment, I don’t get many patients anymore after losing my medical license. And my sanity. And my office. But this back alley seems the perfect place to practice dentistry. Did you know you’re supposed to see a dental professional at least once a-
What? Who am I and how did you get here? Well, as I said, I’m a dentist. More like the dentist, am I righ-SHUT UP, NURSE! Sorry about that, my nurse here never stays quiet for long enough. Anyhow, after getting kicked out of Nicaraguan medical school…er, again that is, because at first they wouldn’t even let me in and I had to sleep with the director before they’d…ahem, anyway, after that I set up shop in this alley behind the Burger Trench. Fast food is very bad for your te
Fantasy Films Adventures - Red Waters (5)
The afternoon quickly turned into evening as the sun vanished over the horizon. Captain Furry, Palladon, Alex and Vitaly dived head first into the ocean. They were now cloaked in wet suits and wearing scuba tanks and masks. Vitaly carried an ax in his paws while Alex and Palladon wielded spears loaded with shark poison. Captain Furry had he left paw gripped to a curved pirate sword and a loaded harpoon launcher in his right paw.
Below the surface of the water, it was incredibly murky. If not for the small headlights attacked to their masks, the group would not be able to see anything beyond their noses.
“I’m getting a bad feeling,” said Palladon.
“Keep your wits about you, Pally,” Cap replied. “That monster could come out of anywhere.”
“That exactly what I’m worried about.”
“Hey, I think I see something,” said Alex as he swam toward a large object.
“You found the shark, co
My Dearest BetrayalMy Dearest Betrayal,
Along your spine I zip open your flesh, peeling it back from the muscle and bone. Breathing heavily upon your utter nakedness, I watch the uncontrollable quivering as my poisoning breath scalds as dry ice.
A screaming monster claws its way up your throat, tattered shreds of your gullet are left in its wake. Flailing in the putrid fumes of agony, your yellow eyes search. But there is nobody there for you anymore. A sea of writhing bodies bump and flop against your own, unaware. Encapsulating screams have carved themselves into your irises as the selfish world turns topsy-turvy like a drunkard consumed in his own self pity.
The hair stands on the back of your sweating neck. As the claustrophobic drowning dissipates, a frost crawls to the ends of the earth congealing the flow of your veins. Solitude is now the scumm
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More