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to yearn for a mythI am not afraid of the Grim Reaper,
the hollow-eyed bone man in the night black cloak
come to collect me with his scythe
and let me, without the burden of my flesh,
twist myself around his gnarled fingers
or press my face against his ribs and inhale the ashes
the empty odor of an autumn chill.
But I am afraid of the absence of a Reaper,
the fact that there is no man like him,
no one that will hold me close
and take me where I need to be; there is
only a tall pine box and dirt and the Conquerer Worm
and the fact that I will become in body
what I have always been in mind:
nobody and nothing at all
to be like this to be like this is
to walk a living death;
or to die again with every inadvertent breath
while rigor mortis petrifies the bones,
useless muscles under pallid flesh,
every breath is slow, is w e a k,
digesting rotten air in
and I can't s p e a k with you
any more than satan speaks with God
I'm too - -
too tired to maintain this
He decorates graves with stolen flowersI watched from nearby.
He was here again, and he was sad. Flowers of all kinds wilted in his grasp. Tighter, tighter he clutched them as tears prickled his eyes.
"You're choking them," I told him, but he didn't listen. He hadn't listened to me in years (though he certainly spoke to me a lot). The flowers' frayed stems told me he hadn't bought these. He never had the money to spare, anyway. I wanted to tell him not to waste his time ripping flowers from the neighbor's garden on my behalf, but it probably wouldn't have stopped him.
He kneeled in the grass. I smiled, though I wanted to cry (and would have, if I could have).
"I'm right here," I whispered. (All he heard was a fluttering leaf in the gentle breeze.)
"These are for you," he said. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and gently placed the suffocated flowers by my head.
"You crushed them again," I laughed. (All he heard was the creak of the black gate.)
Just as the wind began to pick up, he leaned over and ki
The Traveler and the PoetThere was a poet on the train that evening. At that hour, he was the only one in this car. Only one train ran this late into the night.
(On occasion, it would thunderstorm, and the raindrops pelted the train like a drum. Drrrum, drrrrrrrrum. Accented by the thunder, it was practically a symphony. The poet did like those nights.)
There was a time when the poet could sit alone, gaze out the window, contemplate the darkness. He could dream. He could nightmare.
(His eyes never stopped wandering. In the daytime, they ran to the horizon and back; they skipped among flowers, climbed trees, met new people, greeted old friends, and then returned to their owner on the train. At night, they plunged fearlessly into the abyss, not really looking for anything. And the poet saw everything.)
His alone days came to an end when the words began to overflow. They practically oozed from his pores. They ran from his lips every time he spoke. They graced his ears when he listened. They lived in secret places
My Tin SoldiersIt was a raindrop symphony
Performed on roof shingles,
Accompanied by thunder
And sweet wind chime jingles.
Plagued by monsters behind
Tip-tapping tree fingers,
I fled from my nightmares
Where the real beast lingers.
I ran to my toy chest that
Lay off in the distance
And sought the tin soldiers'
Defense and assistance.
With their tin hands and rifles
They fought off the noises;
The tip-tapping and splish-splashing
And whispering voices.
Battling on the windowsill,
I bundled up with a sigh,
So glad my tin soldiers
Are much braver than I.
MadnessI handed him the "Help Wanted" poster with quivering hands. I needed this job. I screwed up everything, and this was my chance to get back on track. In the silence, my mind wandered, dragging my thoughts to hope for the best. I peered over my glasses at the old man who was scanning my résumé.
At last, he looked up at me and laughed. "No experience?" he asked with his white moustache waggling as he spoke.
I shook my head. "Sorry," I said, a sheepish smile pasted across my face. I couldn't have wiped it away if I tried.
"Good!" cried the old man Alfred.
I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Tanith!" I exclaimed, reaching out to shake his trembling hand.
"Not quite yet," Alfred Tanit
[HYPNO] Lessons from Kenny or: Fainting in Coils"Look, I was maybe a LITTLE impressed with those big arms of yours--hell, you got a swell singing voice too. But THIS? Look, not for nothing, but I've seen handbags that were more intimidating then this...Which reminds me, what's with the coloring here on the tip? The only place that has red on it. You get bored and dye that one spot and then think better of it or...?"
Sometimes, he really needed to learn to just keep his yap shut.
"Would it help if I apologized?"
"Come on! I was only teasing! It's not like you don't tease people!" Tarot sighed, twisting his torso back and forth a moment, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Though, of course he was uncomfortable--he was bound from the waist down to his feet in thick, serpent coils that held him fast. It's not like he was in any danger; the coils were tight enough to hold him but not nearly enough to threaten his life. But dammit he hated it all the same. "For someone with snakeskin you seem to have a low to
Under the Night Sky The flames flickered, slowly retreating from their former height to lick solely around the charred wood. Everyone had gone to bed now, there was no point in keeping the fire going, especially if it was going to go unwatched. Chantal watched it die. She was the last one remaining. She would likely be awake for some time yet. Her green eyes fell onto the tents and then to Raven. She paused; the girl was looking nervous when Chantal mentioned the Circle. She meant what she said, about it being good that Raven avoided the Circle. But... perhaps the thought made her paranoid? The little woman chuckled mirthlessly to herself. Apostates.
When the fire had finally burned pass its capacity, Chantal got up from her spot and found herself cleaning up the site. There was nothing else to do, no one to talk to, and she was fully awake. And this way, no one could claim that she did nothing. She couldn’t help earlier, there were too many people. She brought the di
Dream-Eating Servant (Open RP)You have been experiencing nightmares for a while now and you can barely sleep at night. During a full moon, you go out for the night only to bump into someone. It turns out that the person you bumped into happens to be a dream-eating demon colored in monochrome. They offer to help you out with your problem by eating your nightmares and giving you any dream you want. They didn't ask for payment othen than staying with you and that they will tell you the payment on the next full moon. But something happens to the demon while they're eating your dreams. They...
A) Transform into a half creature?
B) Start to have bigger bellies?
C) Grow bigger and bigger?
D) Change gender?
E) Have a different symptom not on this list?
F) A mixture of the above things on this list?
Just Another Second In My HeadSo, here we are at the end of the world. Well when I say world I mean the end of the human race’s input upon things. No more pollution, carbon fumes will be gone, no more coke cans on the street or McDonalds burger wrappers flying in the air. It’s just going to be nature from now on, like it should have been from the beginning, just the animals, the plants and the trees.
It’s funny really; I spent my whole life trying to save the people on this stinky piece of rock. I spent every day trying to make people happy. Trying to make their lives just that little bit more bearable and for what? So I can sit here in the back garden, with the lukewarm rain pouring over me as I watch a war unfold in front of my very eyes. Okay, So I may have been the one to start this war but that doesn’t mean I had to do it or anything…I just got bored one day and me and my blue eyed friend over there who is currently riding a narwhal, ran out of pie and figure that we should
You have always been strong. Where your siblings were wild, loud, and careless things, you were the stony silence, the heart that beat steady and unhurried. You felt the sun, the moon, the stars, the solid ground beneath your paws all the same; but they were not quite as in tuned as you. They parted their jowls and howled for the night sky, and you were content to lift your snout in dignified quiet. In your wolf skin you love the feel of your fur bristled and your muzzle wet with blood. Even with dripping teeth and hackled fur you are a graceful stature.
In your girl-skin you are still strong, though sometimes you like it less. Your limbs are compact with muscle, your skin is silk and wire; soft flesh over hard muscle and bone. You let your hair grow past your shoulders and you are fierce even with the gait of a teenage girl. Your classmates will watch and gossip behind small, un-calloused hands. They marvel at the
The Spaces Between Their MovesA small boat approached the barren, rocky island. The blackened and soggy remnants of other vessels stretched across the jagged stones like ladies on fainting couches, but spoke of peril as much as exhaustion. The waves grew choppy near the shore and the boat tossed, but one of the occupants expertly angled the tiller, guiding the single-sail craft safely to a tiny beach. Other boats were here as well, dragged up onto the sand but long since claimed by time and storm, no longer hoping their masters might return to sail once more.
"Are you certain?" asked the pilot, hand still on the tiller. "There is no shame in turning about, I would speak of it to no one."
"I must," said the warrior calmly. "I took a vow, never to cast aside a worthy quest." The sailor bowed his head sadly.
"Then I will return, once only, in three days as we agreed. I hope to find you waiting here victorious, but I fear we shall not speak again. I cannot see how
[Transformation] The Djinn ForgeThe said it was perhaps one of the oddest and most incredible inventions of magical technology in the history of the Alaghan. A forging together of the engineering of mankind, the magic of the ages and the rituals of the primal past. And while it was more or less lost to the anals of history, Tarot had found it.
The Djinn Forge.
According to the legends, by placing in a series of required offerings to the ancient gods and saying the proper chants at the proper times, one could stand before the alter and the machine would forge together whatever the user asked for, just like a djinn of old. Granted the required offerings was unknown, the time was a mystery and, well--most chalked it up to legends and fairy tales. But it was on such tales that Tarot thrived and so he went about seeking it out all the same.
And he struck the proverbial gold, finally. After some digging and exploring in various temples, he finally found the thing, hidden deep within the deserts just beyond Little Ala-Mhigo
That Christmas EveThere was snow blanketing every inch before us, white and soft while it crunched softly beneath our boots. We sniffled while our noses turned red from the chill, and suddenly everyone could sympathize with Rudolph. Rosy-cheeked children slid past on anything from brand new sledges to garbage can lids, laughing while they spun in the cleanest mess of ice, dodging trees and rocks and patches of dead weeds. It was not a pretty place, and yet it was beautiful, for the evening was beautiful, and the faces were beautiful, and the laughter was Christmas itself.
Father Christmas watched closely by, and a million tongues uttered his name while the sun touched the horizon, and its all-encompassing rays were blotted out by treetops and sticky snowflakes.
You may have caught the sound of bells, had you been standing where I stood on that Christmas Eve. You may have seen a flourish of red in the sky, carried by winter winds and reindeer of fantastic majesty. And you may have, for a moment, believed
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More