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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
Become History ~Human!Sly x Reader
Human!Sly Cooper x Reader
(Name) sighed, rubbing a hand through her (Hair Color) hair. She was so stressed out.
But who wouldn't be when your a six year old in an orphanage who is going to be presented to a couple who wants to adopted a child. Only one child. That means you've only got one chance to impress them or you'll end up still in the orphanage.
Ms. Puffin, the lady in charge, brushed her purplish gray hair back and ushered all the kids with a glare to the orphanage lobby.
The lovely couple smiled at seeing all the cute kids but their eyes widened when the looked in (Name)'s direction.
"That one; the little girl." The man said, walking toward (Name). (Name)'s eyes widened and she couldn't suppress a happy grin.
(Name) opened her small arms to embrace them but was surprised to see them walk right past her.
CAP.1: Servant Of Evil
-…¡llévensela!, ya veremos cómo pagara las consecuencias por sus actos, ASESINA- dijo esa mujer con la brillante armadura carmesí mirando con odio a esa princesa de tan solo 16 años
Pero lo que todas esas personas no sabían es que esa no era la princesa que buscaban; más bien era su amor verdadero Marshall, su sirviente, el más leal de todos sus sirvientes quien se hizo pasar por su amada
-¡oh! pero si no es un hombre -dijo ese chico disfrazado
-¡cállate! Tu mataste al amor de mi vida -se escucho a lo lejos una voz,
La voz de un hombre; con una mascara ese hombre el príncipe de una tierra muy lejana que estaba comprometido con una campesina del reino de la bondad y humanidad, mejor conocido como el “reino verde”, pero, esa campesina fue asesinada por aquella persona a quien culpaban de asesinato…
-prepárate princesa, porque tus pecados serán p
The Memories of one Wolf
Leaving only faint traces in her wake calloused pads landed silently upon the earthen floor as she was coming upon her destination. Her thickly pelted neck craned upwards as that leathery black nose sorted through the concoction of forest aromas. The sweet tang of freshly budding plants, the richness of the sheltered soil along with the tempting musk of bite sized prey. All of this and more filtered through her nares and was processed through her predatory mind. Triangular auditives stood high upon her timbered crown listening to the rustle the wind made as it caressed the woodlands, bringing with it the crisp essence of a winter storm approaching. The sun was well past it's peak when she had set out, now it was inching closer towards the mountains. Her bodice continued to weave betwixt the trees and over the rocks with an ethereal grace reserved only for gallant creatures. Muscles rippled underneath her dense coat that was a gleaming pattern of brown, black, gray, roan, and white with
Shelby's Buoyancy LessonShelby considered her situation carefully. She was surrounded by kids in a rec center gymnasium, and she'd just swallowed something minty and smooth. Okay, so why was this a bad thing again? Shelby was great with kids, or so she figured, and everybody liked candy, right? So why was she getting a weird feeling in her stomach like something was wrong?
Penelope had talked her into this volunteering gig - "gotta pad out your resume," she said, "when you graduate, you can't just list 'pot smoking' as your extracurricular." Shelby decided she really wanted to do something that wouldn't have the expectations or stress of a job. So, Penelope suggested volunteer work. Perfect for Shelby - probably no careful drug screening involved, either, so she could smoke in the bathrooms of wherever she wound up!
And so she did. Quite heavily. The nice thing about the local rec center was it had windows in the bathrooms, so she could manage to go through a bowl or two without anyone even noticing.
Nameless The older dragon let out a roar, stretching to show the full length of his thick wings, battering with strength against the blasting wind. It's younger son watched.
"Listen and feel for it," whispered Kryst, the older dragon. He had his test passed long ago, recieving his name proudly.
The young dragon has known for the moment to come. All dragons did. He was ready to receive his dragon name. Or at least, he thought that he was ready. Memories flashed in his head of the many times of when he hid among the rocks from the chilling air. Recently, he went out a little bit more, edging away through the cave-home he had spent most of his life in. His eyes briefly flashed with his father.
"Go," said Kryst.
The young dragon crept forward until he could see what all of the cliff edge had hidden beneath him. The wind was blowing harder now. He felt like a tiny star in the skies when it's dark. He slowly opened his delicate wings open, almost flinching when the air c
Golden Luck 6 A Tsume x Reader StoryChapter 6
It was getting dark pretty fast, and [Name] and the pack were heading towards a cemetery; not the best place to be in at night.
‘’This place gives me the willies’’ Hige said, he was hugging himself out of what seemed to be fear.
‘’Hey guys, why not just get out of this town as quick as possible?’’ [Name] had said; she was unconsciously getting closer to Tsume.
Tsume didn’t seem to mind, he was probably frightened as well.
Soon the pack had come across a large hole,
And before anyone could blink, an old wolf had popped out of the random hole in the ground.
Everyone screamed out of fear, except Tsume and Kiba (SURPRISING ISN’T IT)
At that moment [Name] had held onto Tsume by the arm,
And she didn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon.
Tsume inwardly blushed; he had never expected her reaction to be so physical.
Kiba had soon straightened himself out and asked the old wolf what he was doing.
The old timer laughed,
Amor infantil madameXMr.Blood Amor infantil
El amor es algo tan lindo nos puede transformar a cualquier de ser un amargado que al os ojos de los demás es un ser oscuro y sin corazón a alguien que puede arriesgar su vida incluso su propia felicidad
Mr. Blood: Suéltame de una “$#!!# vez mocosa dijo Mr.blood mientras madame lo abrazaba por la espalda sus manos estaban alrededor del cuello de él , a una distancia que se podría detectar su dulce perfume de su cabello.
Madame: aaaa eres un amargado Mr.blood no se suponía que los ositos so
Servant Of Evil Prologo
Érase una vez un reino. con un rey prudente, que edificó un gran reino, su vida fue tomada por una enfermedad y una reina de la voz dulce, que era su esposa, gobernó la tierra en lugar de él. Se regia por el mejoramiento de la gente, bastante mejor que su marido, y el reino gozó de prosperidad. Aunque su reinado no duró mucho despues de la muerte de su marido, sufrió del mismo mal y falleció. Quien seguía linea real era su hija única llamada Fiona, que se crió en confort, con lujosos muebles, una niñera llamada Cake y un sirviente llamado Marshall que era su mejor amigo quien estaba dispuesto a hacer lo que quisiera. Ella tomó el lugar de su madre y reinó sobre el reino. Sin embargo, su dominio estaba lejos de ser bueno. Ella impuso fuertes impuestos a la gente y castigaba a los que no cumplieran sus órdenes. Poco a poco la gente llegó a llamar al país como el re
Unexpected VisitGlenn woke up this morning with a strange feeling of serendipity, as if he knew today held a surprise in store for him. Of course this didn't excuse him from chores. Speaking of which, he could already hear the tell tale wailing from the nursery of the orphanage. So many babies were going to need changing, and he hadn't even eaten his breakfast yet! Glenn yawned before getting up to fold up his sleeping pallet. "Boys time to fold up the beds and move everything back!" he called down the halls. To make use of the limited space in the orphanage, everyone had their own sleeping bag that they put away during the day so the rooms could be used for something else.
Sharian let out a sigh as she walked with her arms folded in front of her as she just looked ahead. "Somehow...this walk just seems boring...Gotta say, having nothing to do other than training is starting to get boring...maybe I should find something else to do." As she looks down at the ground, the sound of children nearby caused
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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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More