BookstoreHeaven smells like someone else's allergies.Bookstore5 years ago in Free Verse
Ages and pages and dust, packed high to the ceiling
History in a thousand books I'll take the time to read only after I'm done living
A place where I could go a million years and happily never see the sun.
The spines of the old books crack and groan under my fingers as I pry them apart
Pulling their covers open like they were clams
And I am looking for the pearls inside
The stories glittering brighter in black ink and yellow pages than some mere stone ever could.
Ladders reach from floor to ceiling
Stepstools litter the ground
Packed up haphazard against the shelves
By the last patron to reach upwards for the Science Fiction.
Feeling the weight of uncounted words settle a comfortable shawl around my shoulders
It covers my frame lightly and loosely
Warming me body and soul from the inside out
The most comfortable home I know.
I breathe deep without coughing
Turning reverent circles beneath the ceiling-floor shelves
Eyes closed but getting diz
Bookstore ReligionLurking in the shadows of roses,Bookstore Religion4 years ago in Free Verse
I formed my own Gods,
my own constellations
between the thorns in my teeth.
Naming them after characters
in a November's love story,
Porphyria, Dorian, and Gatsby-
I tasted earth and copper pennies.
Choking on peppermint and oils-
out of my mouth in rambles of
I recited poetic prayers to the classics.
Recently at the bookstore...'Divorce for Dummies' is sold out.Recently at the bookstore...5 years ago in Short Stories
Zemyx- Bookstore(If you don't like yaoi, I suggest you don't read this)Zemyx- Bookstore6 years ago in General Fiction
Two friends walked into the cafeteria of Greensville High at 12:05 in the afternoon just as the school bell rang, signaling the start of sixth period. This was the time when Demyx and Derek ate lunch, as well as many other people. The place was crowded and noisy, as per usual, and they knew that they would be spending at least five minutes waiting in line.
"This is SO lame," Demyx complained loudly, reaching for a tray off the top of the stack. "My stupid physics teacher wants me to write a report on Albert Einstein. Einstein of all people!"
"What's wrong with Einstein?" Derek asked, stepping into line behind him.
"Well, nothing, except that I have no idea where to find any information about him. And the fact that I know nothing about the guy to begin with doesn't help."
"What about the school library?" the tall, brunette boy suggested, looking down at his friend with his soft, grey eyes.
"Um in case you haven'
barnes and nobleshe said she wants to lose her virginity at a barnes and noble.barnes and noble5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
it makes me feel so comfortable to be there, she said. the books, the pages, the people - all engrossed in print and words and new worlds, all like me.
she said, i want to make love in the fiction aisle. she paused. right between the palahniuk and plath, that's where i was this morning, i was reading the back covers of everything beautiful and thinking of you lying on top of me on the floor, and making something beautiful ourselves.
i want silence and intimacy, she said, i want bookstores. i want to be surrounded by book-bindings and straight spines with flat pages.
she said, at a bookstore, i can talk to anybody. i can be anybody. and i can know everyone by the pages they turn, and they can know me.
she said, it's beautiful.
she said, i can't write like you.
she said, i want to make something beautiful, too.
she said, let's do something to get us in the pages of a novel.
she said, i want to make love in a barnes and noble
AnonymousI am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backsAnonymous3 years ago in Free Verse
And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines
I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy
Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils
I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops
While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck
Wasting days wondering why grass is green
And how it can be greener for others and not I
Then I realized its all artificial food colouring
And polystyrene picket fences
Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile
I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour
But like all mangled words I will be thrown inside a wastebasket
Saved for a rainy day
BrightheartBrightheart5 years ago in Concrete Poetry
My name is Brightheart, of ThunderClan.
I know you flinch when you see my face.
You don't know what happened.
You think my face is scary.
At least I found somebody to love me,
who doesn't care about what I look like.
I couldn't hide the scars if I tried.
But I accepted what happened.
I don't like it but I live with it.
My brother was killed in the dog atttack
an I got this left.
What we did was stupid but we did it so we could
be warriors, too.
I found a mate, who doesn't care what I look,
like, it's the size of the heart that matters.
Newcomers flinch when they see me,
kits squeak and run to their mothers.
It hurts but I'm strong enough to take it.
So don't be scared when you see my face,
you'll get used to it.
The BookstoreThat was the summer we readThe Bookstore5 years ago in Free Verse
Leaves of Grass and fell asleep
together under the sunrise,
letting poems of the songbirds
stretch our limbs and free
our minds. Later that night
we went to the bookstore and
you bought Atlas Shrugged,
hardcover. From faraway
I admire your good American
work ethic, on foreign shores
we frequented apothecary cafes
and passed around House of
Leaves with girls in black lace
dresses and spoke in Only
Revolutions. Because the future
happened yesterday and yesterday
is far away. In thinking about
it we get worked up, we get
tearful, moods spiking and spinning
like your pointy cursive. I handcopy
Walden when I'm upset and when
I turn eighteen I'm going to adopt
Emerson as my middle name and
gift myself Illuminations. And
someday soon I'll title that book
I wrote for you and add it in here too.
LibraryLibrary6 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
I wander into my favorite forest,
where anything and everything is said,
where a drop of ink is a seed,
where words take the place of leaves.
For the Love of Stella [Audio Edition]For the Love of Stella [Audio Edition]4 years ago in Short Stories
FOR THE LOVE OF STELLA: The Audio Edition
Click here to visit the blog and download the file
~ Adapted from a fan-fiction by Faith Kelter, based upon characters appearing in the Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji series by Yana Toboso.
~ RATING: T (language, some mild content)
~ RUN TIME: 1hr, 44mins
READ the story
Chapter 1 on dA
ARTWORK by Simply-Psycho
(In order of appearance)
GRELL SUTCLIFF ... Curt Rose
STELLA ... Samantha Ylagan & "Miles Sebastian"
RONALD KNOX ... Vick Valentine
ALAN HUMPHRIES ... Sukisho
ERIC SLINGBY ... Jason Marnocha
QUENTIN HOWSHAM ... Steven C. Phillips
WILLIAM T. SPEARS ... Dylan Spencer
PIERCE ... Erik Copper
KAT ... Pam Larson
LUCI ... Rina Adachi
5 Tips for Market Writers / Commercial Writing5 Tips for Market-based Writers5 Tips for Market Writers / Commercial Writing7 months ago in Reviews & Guides
Anybody Can Write a Novel
Chapter 9 “Types of Writers” – Section 9 “Market-based Writers”
With Links to Supplementary Material
Of all the types of writers, or methods of writing, the one with perhaps the most untapped potential is the market-based writer. Every time a marketable story comes along, bookstores are flooded with watered-down, poorly-written, knock-offs that exist to leech off of the hype of that original story and to take advantage of the audience's desire to remain in a world after the story is done. However, this does not have to be the case. Actually... market-based writing can be very good, and I'm going to explain how! Please keep the torches and pitchforks under your seats until the conclusion of this bout of heresy.
Tip 1: Figure out what really draws readers to the pro
[3DF Mini-sode] THE FIRST MONTH OF RED[3DF Mini-sode] THE FIRST MONTH OF RED4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
THE FIRST MONTH OF RED
A BLACK BUTLER Mini-Sode
Based on"Red Theater" from the Kuroshitsuji Comic Anthology fan-manga
~ Translated by Selene Broers
~ Directed/Adaptation by Faith Kelter
GRELL SUTCLIFF ... Curt Rose
MADAM RED ... Faith Kelter
Click here to visit the blog and download the full audio
RUNNING TIME: 8mins
~ "Die Hasen!", "Diabolic Waltz", "Home Again" from the Kuroshitsuji Original Soundtrack.
~ Various from the anime
DISCLAIMER: 3DF is non-profit. We are not associated with Yana Toboso, Square Enix, A-1 Pictures, FUNimation, or the writer of this story. We do this for fun and the love of the series, no money whatsoever. If you enjoy what you hear, PLEASE show the original sources support! The manga is available at your local bookstores and the anime is on DVD or via streaming on most
Panacea: Chapter OnePanacea: Chapter One6 years ago in Fantasy
I'm not sure how to introduce this story. I'm sure it seems odd for me to write it in the first place and if I'm being honest I suppose I was jealous. Writing this at first was as simple as copying one of my friends but once I got going I really did my best to get everything written down. He had a good idea, eventually even long memories will fade. I, for one, don't want to forget where I've been, if I do there's no point in moving forward. We all know that life is tough, and sometimes things have to get worse before they get better. That's what happened to me. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Well I guess I should start from the beginning.
The Hard Life
Caelen dropped to the ground panting and wheezing. His blue eyes darted between the ends of the alleyway where he was hiding. A high fence divided the narrow space in half, blocking his path forward. This was why he hated being out in the open. No matter how careful he wa
EnglandxReader- Just My RoommateYou pulled your tattered (f/c) coat closer to you as you walked down the streets, lit only by lanterns. You were just wandering around aimlessly, not having anywhere else to go. Your parents had decided to kick you out and you didn’t have any friends since you had recently moved to this neighborhood. Your breath billowed out in clouds of steam and you rubbed your arms, this cold was not making your situation any better.EnglandxReader- Just My Roommate2 years ago in General Fiction
“Well, at least things can’t get any worse,” you muttered to yourself. Than you felt two people roughly put their hands on your shoulders. Me and my big mouth, you thought as they led you into a darkened alley. They turned you around and you saw to men in hoods, and a shadow was cast so you couldn’t make out their faces.
“Hand over your valuables and you don’t get hurt.” One of them growled, and you suppressed the urge to laugh. You had no valuables.
“I wish, but I don’t have anything. But if
Barnes and Noble.Barnes & NobleBarnes and Noble.6 years ago in Free Verse
is my relief Saturday night
feet can only move
so quickly, the trail
can only be so straight
Barnes & Noble
Is my tree house,
a fort, above it all
and on the ground
are the childhood type bullies.
That we all need escaping from.
A bookstore is where
you look for love
on a saturday night
all the people you could ever want
to meet are in
a bookstore, on a saturday
My kind of love
is not found
on the sidewalk
in out door smoking
found in bars
or the bottom of beer mugs
I can't hear it in the house music
and it is not lured by
Abercrombie and Finch
My kind of love
is found in a bookstore
somewhere between the
graphic novels and poetry
BukowskiI'm looking for BukowskiBukowski5 years ago in Free Verse
in used bookstores
half because I can't stand
the thought of old men
collecting books of poetry
and half because I can't read
but forty year old inscriptions
in yellowed tomes.
And men cough behind the counters,
by 100,000 books, hoping
filthy fingers stay out of Melville
and maybe Stevenson,
greedy to read them again
before bed, the covers messy,
full of bookmarks
and bourbon stains,
they, coughing into mildew
pillowcases and their hands.
And my hands looking for
Bukowski, but finding nothing
instead only Melville
or maybe Stevenson
and the book sellers'
hungry eyes watching me
across the room,
wishing I could find
BirthdaysThe tears wept and shared, the angst fueled and calmed, the storms that have brought our worst selves, the cruel words said but we never really meantBirthdays11 years ago in General
let's play make believe"So tell me again why I can't purchase this book?"let's play make believe6 years ago in Short Stories
By this point, people had already begun reaching for more books off nearby stands from their spots in line. A woman behind me pressed her fingers against her forehead as she exhaled.
"Sir, for the last time, you need to move to the back of the line." She was leaning across the counter when someone started shouting at me.
"Fine. Have it your way." I left her to continue with her more important customers and started browsing the Clearance books. I picked up a cooking book, flipped through it a little, then tossed it aside, causing it to land with a thud on the carpet. Before I could walk away an elderly woman stopped me to ask, "Are you going to buy that?"
"No. No I'm not."
She quickly whisked it off the floor and headed towards the back of the line, curving sporadically through the store. I turned back to browsing, some more cookbooks caught my attention when I noticed that the overhead music could be faintly heard through the masses of
No Bails TGNo BailsNo Bails TG5 years ago in Short Stories
Ashley landed flat on his back with his Razor scooter tumbling away from him on the sidewalk. He muttered a quiet, "Shit " to himself and rested there a moment.
As he hopped up and picked up his scooter, Josh came out of the Carroll & Pearton Books coffee shop with a heavy bag poised at his slender elbow and a small cup of hot green tea in his hands. He gave a nod to Ashley and said, "They didn't have cinnamon-apple tea."
Arching a thin eyebrow, Ashley shrugged. "Sokay. Almost nailed that trick."
Josh pulled one of the metal outdoor chairs over and sat down. "Yeah I saw some of it. Toby back yet?" Ashley shook his head and turned to the eye the small wall he'd just leapt off with his scooter. It was about six feet, pale brown, and had a great, flat top to ride across. It sheltered the carts for the small specialty market next to the bookstore.
Ashley made a move towards the other end but turned around when the white-shirted manager of th
Request: EnglandxReader 3Request: EnglandxReader 34 years ago in Romance
You hummed a little tune as you walked down the sidewalk. You were heading to your favorite bookstore and that always put you in a good mood. You walked around the corner and smiled when you saw the sign. The little bell above the door clanged as you walked in. Your smile got bigger and you made your way back to the fantasy section.
You skimmed the titles on one of the upper shelves. You were looking for the next book in the series you were reading. You ran your fingertip along the spines of the books as you walked down the aisle. You finally made it to the series you were reading. You stopped on the book you wanted. Your hand wasn't the only one there though. You looked in surprise to see a man about the same age as you, in the same position as you. Your fingertips and his were barely touching and they were resting on the same book.
"I'm sorry Miss!" he said quickly, pulling his hand away.
"Oh no! It's fine!" you said with a grin. You noticed that he sounded British.
You stood in an a
fitstrina is a small woman who illustrates greeting cardsfits3 years ago in Free Verse
and pores over self-help manuals
the fact that she touches humanity
in concentric circles
when she breaks like this.
she's a magnet who creates blank screens
on the spiraling doped processors bumping her on the way
to the bookstore,
where there are longer novels and greater manifestos than her moccasin flats
tapping their way through Reference
she may be a trend, a fad who is coming to terms with the fact that
her author-affairs create an allusion of affinity because all novels
are caricatures of truth.
she may be a fraud or a scale-model
of something so huge that there are only
hitches in her breath are only eraser smudges.
we are viruses, we affect our own glitches.
isn't that what vonnegut says
i'm quoting genesis, i skewer serpents
conspiracies, at least, are purpose-driven.
paper-cuts and name-dropping
are a denial of chronic wanderlust.
an external hard-drive has be
Immolation: a dialogueYou cried sweet yellowed glueImmolation: a dialogue5 years ago in Free Verse
when my fingers danced across these bindings
and so I said:
I will not scribble in your margins
or blacken out the tender purple skin
below your eyes where the veins
and profanities show through.
But I will throw you up
let the fire catch your pages
till the ink bubbles and runs
floods each white expanse as it burns.
I did not tell you how badly
I wanted to be rid of your rough edges
big colorless eyes, thin arms
and run-on sentences.
You tugged at the dog ears and bookmarks splayed
around your neck and wrists like collars
opened dying bookstore lips
I am not meant for your hands
or the flames, I am an altar
if ideas are the holy land
then the oil in which to kindle me
is nestled in olive branches. It will not flow
from the nozzles
of gasoline pumps or lighters.
Still I traced the golden letters on your spine
and whispered, "Phoenix, phoenix,"
as you shuddered. I pressed
a kiss to your mottled surface
right below the title
and I asked:
But what is