InstinctThe house on Melinda Lane was surrounded by trees — walnut, nectarine, grapefruit, orange and a towering pecan — and the light that shone in the windows was always dappled and shivering. In summer, bees hummed drunkenly in the heady thick fragrance of the star jasmine. It was a quiet neighborhood, somnolent with dove-song and heavy with California sun that dripped like honey, rolling over my childhood where it stood poised for flight on the cusp of adolescence. Stretching to grow into the woman I would become, I craved solitude, and expanding realms of independence. In the silent hours I spent alone, creative inspiration cradled me in its breathless, deathless clasp — a figure more real to me than mere humanity could hope to approach, whispering ravishingly in my ear to the exclusion of all else.Instinct3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Thus it was that I chose to remain at home, writing, when my family left for the afternoon and evening.
The late sun shone through the blinds in a scintillating pool on my de
Battery MendellIt was just about sundown in the Marin Headlands. Away on the horizon, the Farallon Islands were silhouetted against the sun; the breeze had fallen, the world holding its breath. Across the Golden Gate Bridge, glorious in the dying light, The City sparkled and hummed inaudibly.Battery Mendell3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Kicking around the old bunker in the lengthening blue shadows, conversation had fallen into a lull, as well. Tired of scuffing pebbles with his shoe, Josh followed me down the crumbling concrete steps as I went to examine the heavy iron doors, rusted shut with the fog of a century.
“That’s where the Morlocks come out,” he said, jokingly.
Two things happened at once. The sun dipped in its final dive below the horizon, the last gold melting into the cold fingers of waiting fog on the western sea.
And in the empty warren of corridors riddling the mountain beneath us, we all simultaneously felt something wake up.
It was old. We knew that much. And we knew it was dreadful.
And it was comin
About the Blues There were reasons I was going to write about a grand mal seizure. Heck, I still have the reasons: I feel like it and it's on my mind. I say "it" because I only had one and it was some time ago. But they say I did a bang-up job of it.About the Blues1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My sister told me, "I woke you up to tell you it was time to go to the horse show, and you stood there and said you had a headache and wouldn't make it. Made me mad, actually. Then you keeled over and it's good my husband was there to catch you."
I remember the headache. Worst one I've ever had, truly crippling. I didn't want to disappoint my sister and her husband though. After all, my daughter and I were staying with them for an unspecified length of time. I'd even grown fond of the friggin horse shows.
The memory that's most embarrassing is a big sign the seizure isn't a small one -- loss of control of the bladder. Check. Tremors. Check. And I guess you stick out your tongue and your eyes go kinda
An Audience of OneHow many people have to enjoy your creations before they are considered art? What if you only share it with one person you love?An Audience of One1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
When I was in the U.S. Navy on deployment, my father would send me little abstracts he drew on pieces of card stock. I was his only audience. To me, they are the greatest art he ever did and they mean so very much to me. Art is emotion, and he showed his love for me with these. They are very special. There are many more in his gallery folder on my page. http://mistgod.deviantart.com/gallery/5376791/Dad-s-artwork-James-Leon-Devine-1937-2008
Thanks for letting me share him a bit. Artist: James Leon Devine 1937 - 2008
Wishing on Cigarettes"Oh no, only one cigarette left," Dena said, and I heard the crinkling of her pack of Marlboros as she fished it out. "We'll have to get some more later. Want to share this one, Mel?"Wishing on Cigarettes2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Still reeling from the first one I'd had, I replied, "Oh goodness, I don't want to hog them. I'll smoke one if you get a new pack later, though."
"No, we should share it!" she insisted genially. "It'll be so fun!"
"All right, if you're sure ..."
Deftly, she lit it and took a drag. I, still in nicotine slow motion, thought of how ironic it was that a mildly asthmatic girl like me would venture to smoke even once a year with Dena on Halloween, which was becoming a new and favorite tradition of ours. But my parents had smoked growing up and, at least outside, the smell of cigarette smoke held an odd sort of nostalgia for me.
"Don't forget," Dena said, breaking through my thoughts, "to make a wish."
"What? People do that?"
"I know what I'm wishing for, then."
"So do we," teased Kristen from her place
diecinueve.Ein Naturwissenschaftler wurde einmal gefragt, welche Eigenschaften des Schöpfers man aus der Erforschung der Natur ableiten kann. "Eine übertriebene Vorliebe für Insekten", lautete die Antwort. Es ist unglaublich. Ich habe gelesen, zwei Drittel der Biomasse sind Insekten, aber ich hoffe, es stimmt nicht. „Vermehrt euch und macht euch die Welt untertan“, heisst es in der Bibel. Niemand beherzt Gottes Wort besser als die Insekten. Wenn es so etwas wie ein "auserwähltes Volk" gibt, dann muss damit wohl ein Ameisenvolk gemeint sein.diecinueve.3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Ich frage mich, warum sich Insekten derart vermehren können. Die haben ja auch so etwas wie Sexualität. Aber finden die sich wirklich gegenseitig anziehend? Ich meine, wenn Julia ein Hirschkäfer wäre und ich auch, würde ich dann die Schönheit ihres Panzers loben? Ihre behaarten Beinchen? Es gibt ja auch staatenbildende Insekten, zum Beispiel Ameisen und Termiten und Bienen und Wespen. Die Menschen g
dieciseis.Während Julia hier in Madrid weilte, kriegte ihre Katze zu Hause in Bern Junge. Ich ging einmal vorbei, weil ich dachte, wenn Julia das alles verpasst, dann sollte ich es mir wenigstens nicht entgehen lassen. Die Katze hatte sich unten in Julias Schrank ein improvisiertes Nest mit heruntergefallenen Kleidungsstücken und Halstüchern gebaut. Und dort lagen sie, die drei kleinen Fellknäuel, gerade ein paar Wochen alt.dieciseis.1 month ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Man könnte stundenlang dasitzen, nur um ein kleines Kätzchen noch ein bisschen länger in seinen Händen zu halten. Irgendwie tut es gut und ich begann zu begreifen, warum Julia eine „tiergestützte Psychotherapie“ ins Leben rufen will. Hält man so ein Tierchen in den Händen, wird man sofort zu einem besseren Menschen. Eben war man noch voller bitterem Stolz und wollte die Welt niederbrennen, jetzt denkt man: Nö, lass mal.
Irgendwann öffnen die Kleinen ihre Äugelein und finden heraus, dass sie Bei
CarterBeautiful minds are found in the strangest of places. Today, I found one wandering about in a place where most beautiful minds are found: the library.Carter1 day ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The day had gone from bad to worse. One argument, one robbery, one piece of startling news. By the time my second period of freedom came, I was inches from tears and ready to end my day. I was fifty five minutes away from the freedom of home, and the promise of no teachers or schoolwork the next day. I moodily shuffled over to a table in the nook of the library and sat down at the table to list the various tasks I had to complete over the course of the next few days.
Hannah, a dear friend, called me over. She appeared to be stamping books. For what, I did not yet know.
"If you have some free time, could you help me stamp these books?"
I politely refused, saying that I had other engagements, and returned to my table. However, said engagement quickly was finished, and I returned to the table with the girl and her enormous stack of books.
Bedroom Ceiling Blues The little bumps on my bedroom ceiling are the most interesting thing in the universe.Bedroom Ceiling Blues1 week ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
In the dark of my room, lying on my bed, wrapped in oppressively comfortable blankets, staring up at them, they swirl in a vague approximation of a galaxy of stars above my head, barely visible, but just noticeable enough to prompt me to pick out patterns and designs in the seemingly random array of points. They mesmerize me, put me into a trance, and for a second I feel myself slipping away, the alien movements of the universe above my bed is the ultimate mobile, the faint noise of motorcycles roaring down Madison and an SUV thrumming with the bass line of a rap song down the street and the neighbors in the other half of the cheap duplex screaming in Spanish and slamming doors are my suburban lullabies. Sleep is close, and my eyes close for one sweet moment, the loving embrace of slumber and the escape it offers is so near.
In LoveI'm scared of losing herIn Love1 week ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I'm scared of seeming frigid
I'm scared of seeming uninterested
I'm worried she's with me out of pity
I'm worried she's with me because it's been a while for her
I'm worried I've mistaken my feelings of friendship as love
I'm worried because she's polyamorous and loves many people
I'm scared I don't treat her well enough
I'm scared I'll end up wanting something only romantic
I'm scared I'll end up wanting something only sexual
I'm terrified that she wants something only sexual
I'm fearful because she's my first girlfriend
I'm sad because I can't introduce her as my girlfriend
I'm sad because her best friend is strictly catholic [and against homosexuality]
I'm confused because she's transgender, but still sees her body as female
I'm fearful she's with me to make a joke of it
I'm horrified because she's my first real romance
I'm scared that I'll put too much pressure on her
I'm scared that I'll succumb to any pressure she puts on me
I'm scared that I'll snap and
To-Do List: October 201402-10-2014 Paint splattered bootsTo-Do List: October 20143 weeks ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
04-10-2014 Babies, dogs and street art
05-10-2014 Paint and beers
05-10-2014 And just like that, I lost an hour
08-10-2014 Water girl
13-10-2014 Pretty little rope marks
13-10-2014 All these broken men
13-10-2014 I always feel like I am entering the relationship with someone, they are never doing it back to me.
13-10-2014 He growls like you did.
13-10-2014 Pavlov was wrong
16-10-2014 Winking at children
19-10-2014 Dust bunnies are honourable
19-10-2014 Also works great on butts
19-10-2014 She keeps her toolkit with her make up
24-10-2014 Pineapple and minestrone soup
24-10-2014 One step behind and to the right
26-10-2014 You have to stretch to get anywhere in life
26-10-2014 Putting clothes on just to take them off again
29-10-2014 Blubes and strawbs
29-10-2014 Getting stoned and eating chicken kievs
My Recovery Journey Recovery is very important to me and Art is a huge part of my recovery. I have been struggling with mental health issues for years. Some days are a battle but other days I learn to move forward. Creativity has really helped me with that. It seems like every time I end up in treatment (detox, rehab, psych ward, ED treatment etc.) I pick up my art work again. When I am deep into my anxiety and depression and into my addiction, eating disorder or self harm I am not nearly as creative. I struggle with addiction and when I am in active addiction I don't draw or paint but when I'm not I can't stop doing it. I'm always doodling or have some kind of art work with me.My Recovery Journey2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I tend to live my life in extremes. When I tell people my story especially when I tell it like it is. A lot of times I tell certain parts to certain people, I almost can't believe it myself. I have travelled, volunteered, worked, got a BA in Sociology/ Social
The Old Man and the StenchThis summer an acquaintance told me that an old man was looking for someone to help him write a book.The Old Man and the Stench3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"He's an old university professor, and a bit quirky," he told me. "He'll only be around for a few months, because he needs to return to the university and he'll sell his apartment here, but until then he wants to get the book done."
So I decided to check out the job offer.
I met the old man at a bar. He wore a cowboy hat and a suit which made him look like someone who'd stumbled into town straight from the set of the Dallas series. I sat down with him and we started talking. Now, as I was speaking, my eyes wandered to his suit, where I happened to notice a green stain which seemed to be a grass stain. I averted my eyes to pretend it wasn't there, because who knew how the old man had gotten it - maybe he'd stumbled and fallen into the grass and now he was embarrassed about it.
Now, while averting my eyes, I saw other parts of his suit. A red stain, a yellow stain... Different colors, di
Procrastination CrapIt's dark now. The last drops of sunlight have been drained from the valley, leaving the soft film of twilight over the camp. She has long since left the safety behind the white line and wanders in the forest alone. Her footsteps are light on the ground, careful not to make a sound louder than the whispers of the tree around her. She crouches low to the ground as she moves through the shadows, keeping her ragged, frightening breathing under control. To her, it's more than a game. In her mind, the shouts in the valley are from a great battle where her allies fall to the ground with dead eyes and blood wets the long grass. Capture the Flag is a simple game, but in darkness, it turns to a deadly fight for survival that can only be ended with a triumphant ringing of the victory bell and a flag held high by the victors. Until then, the campers are brutal hunters. The girl freezes as she hears the voices of older campers drawing near. Dropping into a crouch, she presses into the bush and watProcrastination Crap1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My List1. I have loved, and I have lost, neither in the way that you would expect. This isn't a typical autobiography, so you'll just have to bear with me.My List1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
2. I've tried to write down my life many times, but can never seem to get to the end. Previously, I've written poems, essays, and unintelligible gibberish on the subject. Thus, my current format, as you see before you, is a list.
3. Most of these sentences are going to begin with "I". That is the nature of humans, myself, and autobiographies.
4. I shall warn you right now, if you are expecting a story of a little misfit that has a horrible beginning but somehow scrapes together a happy ending, this list isn't for you. In fact, I suppose you could say that my life is reversed: it began sweet and happy, and has gotten progressively worse throughout the years. Again, I am unsure of how this story will end. Right now, I'm just giving you a heads up that the ending isn't looking so great, at the moment.
5. That was just a brief introduction. Th
A night in the head of an insomniacI laid awake in my bed one night pondering my past, present and future.A night in the head of an insomniac1 week ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I noticed that my past had it's share of heartache , some of which still lingered and I feared it forever would.
My present was rather uneventful , but I would rather it be that way than have the events of my past reoccur. Then there was hope for my future , I was meant for something great ,as are we all, I could feel it somewhere deep within me in a place I had yet to go to. Once I found that place in my self , my greatness would spill out profusely.
I remembered walking through the enormous redwood forest and coming to the realization that We are all just a small part of the creators larger plan.
I remembered my childhood home with its shame , fear , pain and doubt and how it lead to compassion , strength and gratitude.
I thought of what I would do next.
I had toiled very diligently in high school and finished strong.
I put blood sweat and tears onto the
diecisiete.Nico und ich erörterten am gestriegen Abend ein interessantes Thema: Wäre es nicht reizvoll, wenn man sich seine Traumfrau gemäss dem Baukastenprinzip zusammenstellen könnte? Welche Einzelkomponenten würde ich auswählen, um eine voll funktionsfähige Julia herzustellen, die genau auf mich zugeschnitten ist?diecisiete.2 weeks ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Also, ich nehme mal dieses Gesicht hier und die Haare dort, Länge, ich würde sagen, so fünfzig Zentimeter oder darf es ein bisschen mehr sein. Die Nase gefällt mir allerdings noch nicht, können wir da noch ein paar andere Varianten sehen? Nein, ich glaube das hält alles nicht, wir brauchen eine Dauerwelle. Gut, lassen wir es einmal so.
Dann zur Innenausstattung. Mit welchen Interessen soll ich sie bestücken? Kunst und Psychologie sind eigentlich gar nicht so schlecht, hier könnte ich die Werkseinstellungen belassen. Gemüt und Temperament sind auch noch wichtig. Eigentlich mag ich Julias Nachdenklichkeit u
Liberty's LocksI'd be lying if I said that I remembered all the details, but I think I knew even then that the maxims of conversation had been violated. I indicated no interest in Princess Diana or Great Britain, but the conversation kept turning back to those subjects. Aunt Betsy—who was actually my cousin, not my aunt—made a diligent effort to introduce me to Princess Diana through picture books we flipped through on the floor of the musky basement apartment. “This is a real, live princess,” she told me. I was at an age where I asked a lot of questions, but I don't remember being particularly interested in Princess Diana. I marked, however, that her hair was very short.Liberty's Locks2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I would soon be sobbing ostentatiously as my fine brown hair dropped onto the floor in clumps. My aunt would halt the barber to lecture me about the inappropriateness of the racket I'm making, and console me that when the nice barber lady is done, I will look like Princess Diana.
“I don't want to
Be careful, I'm HomicidalBe careful, I'm Homicidal4 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Be careful, I’m Homicidal: What happened to Liu Woods?
“Liu?” An eight year old Liu opened his heavy eyes out of coming back from a deep sleep to a hazy reality at the sound of the small voice. “You awake?” asked his big brother. “Hey bro..: He yawned. “Hey.. Sorry to wake ya up.. But uh..” His brother fell silent, a light blush appeared on his cheeks. “Monster hunt?” He asked. His brother nodded shamefully. Liu understood how he must feel, it had to have been pretty embarrassing asking your little brother to help check your room because you were scare. But in all honesty, they were only two years apart so it wasn't that big a deal, they were kids after all. But this had been the fourth night his brother had woken him up.
He was always the more sensitive one, while Liu himself was a brave, yet naive kid when it came t
Ramblings of a Little GirlRamblings of a little girl who got caught up in cloudsRamblings of a Little Girl2 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Hold me up, help me fly. Help my fly away above the clouds so I can look the sun in her face and tell her my thoughts. Help me fly so the sun can shine her rays of encouragement on my face, so the sun can look me in the eyes and tell me it is going to be okay.
Hold me up, with my head in the clouds so I can tell them what is wrong. Hold me up, so they can embrace me in their soft arms and tell me to close my eyes and drown, just drown until my lungs can’t take it anymore and I will finally be able to breath freely.
Hold me up.
Do not hold me down, under the water where I can not breathe. Do not hold me down because you and I both know I am not strong enough to fight it. Let me go, let me go. Stop the burning fires in my lungs and set me free.
Do not hold me down and suffocate me in the soft soft feathers of your pillow. Do not hold me down, for I can not fight you. I am not strong enough and I do not know how t
Family mends where friends endI have always wanted a friend whose mind works the way mine does. It does not have anything to do with comparison; I do not mean to say that I am an intellectual Everest surrounded by molehills, that nobody “measures up to me”. It is just that the way different radio stations are on different frequencies, I wanted someone on my frequency.Family mends where friends end3 weeks ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My frequency matched others’ in the manner of a Venn diagram (in which each component is represented by a circle, and the places where the circles overlap stand for the qualities shared by the overlapping elements). I “fit in” with many different people, but nobody fitted me.
In school, I used to keep raising my hand until the teacher told me to let somebody else answer. I still remember the time in eighth grade when the teacher asked what whales were hunted for, and I answered “blubber”. A classmate blasted me with a wide-eyed look of incredulity that I have not forgotten to this day. I was the only one in th
No, I'm Going To Be Spider-Man!I’m gonna try something different here because of the time constraints (I want to get this in before Halloween), so excuse how informal everything sounds. I was really on the fence about whether to make this a proper deviation or just a journal post. Since this story is entirely non-fiction and the narrator is 100% true-to-life me, I’m just not going to bother picking up my fancy purple quill.No, I'm Going To Be Spider-Man!1 month ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
So, I was browsing around my favorite literature group here on dA, Nurturing-Narratives, founded by (the very talented) WriteRelease, trying to give much needed attention to some submissions that had no comments, and I came across a little story called “Tales of a Daycare Teacher #1” written by (the just