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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
Locket SirensIf there's something I'm not supposed to be doing, I've forgotten. The locket rests, heavy and cold, on my palm. I shiver, gooseflesh prickling my bare arms as the wind shifts course. In a frenzied game of tag, the curls I slaved over this morning dance and flatten across my face and I squint, trying to see through the thick locks. The locket hums again, haunted, and grows colder still. Frowning, I flip my palm upside down, trying to rid it of metal. The chain binds my fingers closed. The locket doesn't budge, but hangs instead from the gap between my life and heart lines. A pain, like pinching and releasing the skin, pricks across the flexes of my hand.
"You can't let it go now, Lees," Koto whispers beside me, his chrome-tinted eyes bulging and riveted to the necklace entangling me. There's a sheen to his lips I've never seen before; as I watch, his tongue sweeps across them again. A nervous habit.
Despite myself, I chuckle--a clipped, haughty sound that falls from behind my teeth lik
[Growth+Crossover] Payback, Big Time"If you're trying to hide, whoever you are, you're not very good at it."
Tarot had had the feeling he'd been followed for a while now. It was definitely not something he wasn't used to; you didn't meet as many people (or more importantly piss off) as many people as Tarot did and NOT expect someone to be out for blood. This time didn't feel threatening. If it had been, he would have been attacked by now for sure. He was alone in the jungle, looking for that damn crown that Kenny decided would be HI-LARIOUS to hide somewhere. Of course, being alone like that made it very easy to pick out when he was being followed. He turned around fully and pointed to the tree his would-be stalker was hiding behind. "Come on out, whoever you are. You're not fooling me anyway."
Tarot watched and waited, dissimilar eyes focused on the trunk of the tree for a few seconds before he saw movement. After another moment or two, the figured peeked its head out, revealing a rather...well, interesting person. The
Trouble MakerKeeping up with a small, bouncy Feral Imp while stumbling along an abandoned path several feet behind is no easy task. Lilith is panting slightly; she’s been inactive for so long that her legs aren’t used to walking long distances anymore. Adding to her frustrations is the fact that she’s already lost sight of Icle several times. Her Imp’s shiny, white coat is easily spotted but she still doesn’t want to lose him.
She stops to catch her breath and look around. Her heart skips a beat as she realises that she is most likely out of the Burning Hells. If this is true, this path is a shortcut to Pandemonium and from there, to that weird realm called Heaven. An army from anywhere could use it.
No wonder it’s out of use.
Looking back at Icle, she pulls a face. Her trouble causing baby has also stopped. For reasons only he knows, he feels the need to lay on the ground and roll all over. Really, neither one of them should be out this far but he kept coming ho
Sleep TherapyShe'd liked to have blamed it on the fact that she was sleeping in a new room, in a new bed. She could, if she wanted to, come up with all kinds of psychological reasons why it was taking her so long to adjust to her new bedroom in the Friendship Rainbow Kingdom Castle after having spent years sleeping in the now former Golden Oaks library, which could turn into a lecture that would bore most of her friends and new subjects to sleep.
But Princess Twilight Sparkle knew that the reason she was having trouble sleeping wasn't the new surroundings, the new bed (which, despite seemingly made of crystals, was surprisingly comfortable and boasted sheets that were so soft and cozy that they would make a Saddle Arabian weaver jealous).
It was everything associated with it.
Somehow, she'd been okay with being a princess, so long as she still lived out of the library, could walk normally among the other ponies...so long as she could live a relatively normal life. Of course, there
Five Nights At Stitch-A-Bear ((Wonders))I began to hear noises in the supply room, buttons falling and needles dropping. I didn't bother go in the supply room I was listening to the voice mail.
'Hey there um I wanted to recored a message for you to get you stared with the new job. My name is Sky... Or Adam... Listen you don't have to worry you'll be fine! The mascots do move around a bit but they won't bite! Well there teeth are made out of sharp plastic Sooo... Um HEY look at the bright side! There are cameras so I think you should look at them for a while, just don't waist all your power ok? Anyways you'll be fine they won't hurt you unless you don't go anywhere but here. I'll talk to you soon!'
I sat there paralyzed... Why didn't they tell me this!? Why do they wanna hurt me? So many things spun in my head. I looked at the clock. 2:45, I looked at my power 87%.... I checked the cameras again and saw that one was gone. I quickly looked threw all the cameras and I couldn't find him, that husky! I panicked a bit and checked
TG: A New Akarikage and an Old Traitor "Man, this sucks..." Kana mumbled to himself, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. The emotional baggage that genjutsu-ridden forest had dug up was bad enough, but being left like a sitting duck by it all and being of no help to his friends... having to sit idly by as they fought tooth and nail to protect him as well as themselves... that angered him to no end, but at this point he was just too mentally exhausted from the prolonged genjutsu assault on his brain to do anything about it. He let out a resigned sigh and hugged his knees to his chest, waiting with the others for the scouting team to come back.
"Ughhhhh....What's taking those scouts so long, Mister Prince?" he groaned at his nearby friend, rubbing his temples in an attempt to rid himself of the dull headache that still plagued him.
Propped up against a tree, his head still resting on the hilt of his sword, Tsuyoi calmly replied, "Scouting is dangerous, Kan
Sick AngelsArias is miserable.
He had woken up this morning with a dull pounding in his head and a strange constriction in his chest. He had chalked it up to possibly not sleeping since he has indeed been going for the past two millenia without it. Why should he sleep? Angels didn’t need that sort of thing, right? Well… half-way through his morning, he realised it wasn’t because of sleep. It’s something else.
Half-way through his morning assignments, he had developed chills. The headache only got worse. Everything seemed too loud and too bright. The lights from his fellow Ascetics kept grabbing his mind until they were churned together to create a rainbow of nausea. Then his body decided to spawn aches all over the place so he wound up not getting much done.
The Head Ascetic hadn’t been pleased.
“Angels don’t get sick unless they’re doing something wrong,” he said.
Personally, Arias does not agree with that but whatever.
John Egderp x Reader- IT'S EGBERT!John stood before you, arms crossed. You two were arguing... AGAIN. It was about something from a movie, and whether there was going to be another movie in the future or not. Either way, you two were STILL fighting.
In the end, John eventually gave in, sighing in defeat.
“Fine fine fine. Shut your mouth about it, okay? I don’t want Dave to start teasing me about it.” His arms were still crossed.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I won’t tell anyone.” You ruffled his hair just to see him even more annoyed with you. You found John oddly adorable when he was all annoyed with you. He kinda seemed like a raging mouse when he was angry.
“Oh yeah. Speaking of the demon, what’s up with you and Dave? You guys are hanging out too much, and he’s starting to rub off on you.” He started almost angrily.
“Ohohohooo. Is Egderp jealous? Ooooo.” You teased, laughing afterwards.
“See?! You’re acting just like him! And st
Giant Nights With Freddy (Open RP)A friend of yours, who is an aspiring scientist, has been informing you that they were conducting experiments on turning different beings and creatures into humans. Their first test subjects are a few animatronics that they had found in an abandoned family pizza place called "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza". Whether you knew about the place or not, you ignored it knowing that no one had been there for a while and the robots were shut down... at least you thought it to be.
A week passed and you got a call from your friend. You thought that things were going to be normal when you noticed the sudden urgency in your friend's voice. You couldn't hear them well due to the bad reception, but you could make out, "Get away from here.... run.... they're going to get you-" before the phone hung ups. Suddenly, the ground started to vibrate as a voice seemed to call out from outside:
A) "W-Where am... I?" A rather soft-spoken, if not loud, male voice called out, although it seemed that the owner of the voi
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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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