|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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
To Hoard Cakes: A Canadian RomanceOnce upon a recent time, in the mysterious kingdom of Canada, there lived a young artist named Christin. She was effervescent, eccentric, and somewhat reclusive, working tirelessly on her craft, keeping only cat and canvas as company. She worked so very hard, and often forgot to eat. The townspeople worried for her health, as she often left her lights on well into the next morning, sometimes days in a row. She didn’t always notice other people stopping by, even working during sales of her wares!
Of the townspeople, the baker’s apprentice, Brady…something or other, was the most concerned. He’d seen her on the rare occasions she wandered into town for something. She seemed as though she wasn’t there as she went about her errands. Her hair was in unkept, eldritch tangles, and she was smattered with paint, chalk, and ink here and there; her eyes seemed to be staring a hundred steps in front of her. By all accounts, she should be some strange creature,
Chapter 2: PAGE 4“Anyway what do you think I should tell them now?” The unknown man asked more friendly, as he paced through the room. “I don´t need to explain to you how important this is. There are so many innocent lives at stake!” He said passionate and for a moment his voice seemed to break.
It was at this point Dailon suddenly felt confused. The man seemed to be sincere and apparently it never was supposed to happen that Kaithleia got killed or they were forced here against their own will. Truth be told if this had been told to him directly he would probably have never believed it, but like this it was almost impossible not to believe. They could not know that he was eavesdropping on their conversation, so there was no reason to lie.
“Well if I may make a suggestion, just tell them the truth. We are fighting for a noble course and those kids all have a good heart. You selected them specifically for that.” the teacher said casually as normal, when he
Whispers in the dark 2 | Episodio 25
Episodio 25: Despedida
A media noche,alguien llamó al teléfono de Kevin y cómo Adam se despierta a la más mínima se dio cuenta,pero él no se levantaba,asi que usó la técnica de tocarle la oreja y salió perfecta.
- Te suena el móvil Kevin -
- Ah...siento haberte despertado - lo coge
Estuvo hablando un rato pequeño,el pequeño no pudo seguir la conversación,no sabia de que hablaban,él solo decía "si""ahora mismo"... todo el tiempo.
- Tengo que hacer unos recados... -
- ¿Recados? ¿vas a traficar tu último día aqui? -
- Lo siento Adam pero...él te conoce y si no hago lo que pide te hará daño -
- ¿Y cuándo no estés? -
- Les ordenaré a Dexter,Ori y Héctor que cojan mi móvil,y le diré a Teddy que yo no podré hacerlo más...aun que seguramente me de una paliza por eso -
Whispers in the dark 2 | Episodio 24
Episodio 24: Mi regalo
Adam tuvo que seguir yéndo a la escuela,aun que tuviera mucho sueño y nunca prestara atención.Las clases de biología ahora eran iferentes,Davi estaba muy deprimida y si los compañeros gritaban o paseaban por la clase ella no decía nada,a veces los dejaba hacer lo que quisieran.Un día,él estaba paseando por los pasillos cuando se encontró a su profesora hablando con el director.
- ¡Si no cambias esa actitud tendré que despedirte! -
- Si,señor... -
Ella seguía cabizbaja.Cuando el dire se fue,se acercó a ella para preguntarle sobre su hijo.
- ¿Cómo está Kevin? -
- No lo sé,no lo vi desde hace mucho... -
Se preocuparon aún más,ya era hora de salir y como siempre,tenía esperanzas de encontrárselo alli esperándole,pero ya no era asi.Todo le recordaba a él,la puerta de la escuela,los callejones,el b
peaceful at last,chapter 7The next morning exlo awoke to the sun in his face and a cold breeze blowing over him. He opened his eyes to find that kieroff was hanging onto a strut of wood on the roof. It had splinters hanging from every Centimetre of the plank and every time kieroff moved a toe or a foot, another would pierce his skin. Exlo got up and walked downstairs and sat down. He started to count down from three and at one he heard a large crash from upstairs and a moan from kieroff.
“God, why are there so many splinters in those struts, I swear if I hurt myself I am gonna light them on fire”, said kieroff walking down the stairs.
“Wouldn’t that be a shame”, exlo muttered under his breath. “Manna was going nuts at me yesterday; he wants you to come with us to live in a temple……..you were so……don’t go rambling on at me, manna, manna, MANNA”, yelled exlo.
Kieroff started to laugh and he fell over from it. “So you expect me to go
Chapter 2: PAGE 6In his haste to sit down he almost did not notice how far he actually sunk into bed as he sat down. He had never slept on anything better then thin leather blanket spread on top of a stone bed. Even that was already a luxury only bestowed upon those who reached the elite year of the Institute. It almost felt comfortable, though Dailon wondered what kind of filling they used that he would sink in that far. Now was not the time to check it though, so he kept massaging his head as the wooden panel slid upwards.
`Ah so it was a door after all.` Dailon thought to himself, watching the door entrance closely through a tiny slit in his eyelids, that was too small to notice in the dark room. He would never have found out that it was a door that opens upward. Somehow it goes so completely against taught nature, or perhaps even simple instinct, that he would never have figured that out.
“Ah I see you are awake young Dailon.” The man said as he slowly walked into the room. “When
'Flux' or 'Duncan's Diary'“Wake up, NanoSounds.”
Kim woke with a start, almost smacking her head on the bunk above. Had she just dreamt that voice? It certainly didn't sound like Duncan.
That was when it struck her that something was different. Firstly, the window to the tower was open a crack, and the winter snow was slowly drifting in through the gap, drawing a thin line of cold snowflakes across the floor. Second was the absence of any sound other than the shuffling of the leaves outside. No snores or snorts, no shuffling of bedclothes or nocturnal mutterings. She pulled the covers aside and stepped out of bed, groggily. A cursory glance to the upper bunk confirmed the absence of her partner in misadventures. She wondered if perhaps he was still downstairs in the workshop, although no sound could be heard from the many machines below.
As she made for the stairs, Kim's attention was drawn to a fluttering from Duncan's bunk. The soft wind was shuffling some sort of paper half poking f
The HuntedYou have spread over this land like a disease, devouring everything. You have slaughtered my kindred, my prey, griffin and unicorn and made them myth. I take your cattle for sustenance only, for you have robbed me of the thrill of the hunt. And now you call me monster and point your spears and arrows to the sky a turn your greedy eyes upon my golden nest. I am dragon and I am the hunted now.
Chapter 2: PAGE 5“Yes of course. You are doubling my fee after all.” He said without much further theatrics, ignoring the hand completely and walking to the corner of the room where a long sword was resting. It looked like an ordinary sword, but when the teacher pulled it out for second to check it, Dailon thought he noticed something strange.
The sword seemed to be emitting a feint blue light. Before he was done rubbing his eyes though the teacher slid the sword back into it´s sheath and walked to the door. “I will try to save as many people as I can.” He said as he walked outside and close the door.
“Bloody mercenaries.” the unknown man said softly beneath his breath, before turning towards the wall Dailon had been listing from behind. “I might as well check if the boy is awake yet.” He continued mumbling to himself as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
Having been so caught up in following the story it took
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
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More