Death of a FoolSmiles, laughter, silly sounds
Running, joking, milling around
Fools abound in every crowd
Not noticing the coming clouds
The others leave, one fool remains
Everythings quiet, the wind, the games
He spins and sings but doesnt know
The absence of the suns red glow
A raindrop falls, tear of the sky
The herald of one yet to die
One friend returns, a girl no less
So pretty in her new red dress
She calls to him Fool, come back in!
But cannot be heard oer the din
Large torrents fall on sheets of steel
The cries are muffled by an echoing peal
Of thunderclaps, the fool, he freezes
Noticing now the violent breezes
The fool returns, and in his flight
He dodges left, a lightning strike
She grabs for him and holds him tight
Now heedless of their stormy plight
The march inside, hand in hand
But none seem to understand
The fool was struck by a godly power
An old clock now resounds the hour
Four past noon the damned thing reads
The one called fool now ceases to bre
APH/Portal: When Memories FadeDrabble request fill for ScarletteDiscord: “Quiet me.”APH/Portal: When Memories Fade2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Summary: Matthew Williams-Jones wakes from cryogenic stasis with gaps in his memory, his twin MIA, and a murderous, science-obsessed computer cataloging his every move. He and his brother must use every scrap of cunning they possess if they have a chance of escaping this hellhole facility alive. Spoilers for the Portal 2 Co-Op storyline.
He floated, drowning in oblivion. The silent ocean enveloped him, cradling him in its dark, cold depths and shutting out all memory of light, of life, of self. Only nothingness remained.
A flicker. A tiny flame, wrapping around the edges of his consciousness and burning into the inky black. Slowly, the dark receded around him, and the light steadily grew brighter and brighter. Numbness was replaced with a dull, aching chill, and grew painfully colder by the second. A growing roar echoed around him, and the ocean began to churn. His world became a confused cacophony of so
DSR - A Happy New YearIt was New Year’s Eve.DSR - A Happy New Year2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was New Year’s Eve and Isabella Vega was at a crazy house party.
It was New Year’s Eve, she was at a crazy house party because someone convinced her to come so she could, as he put it, ‘have some normal people fun’.
It was New Year’s Eve, she was at a crazy house party because Aleks Vignali convinced her to go so she could have some fun, but she was most definitely not having any fun at all. In fact, she hated the situation she was in with a searing, burning passion. Izzy had planned on a nice, quiet evening spent in in her room sporting comfortable pajamas while passing the time with a good book. Some may consider that rather dull, but the girl had hardly time for herself anymore. What changed her mind you may ask? Well, the answer came walking into her house three hours ago, just as she was settling down.
The answer was Aleks.
Persuading her to tag along was an easy enough feat. It took less than ten minutes. All be
DSR - A Fluttering FeelingIs it all his fault?DSR - A Fluttering Feeling2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Over the past few months Isabella Vega has gotten quieter, if that’s even possible. To the trained eye, one could notice her smiles look forced more often than not. She doesn’t laugh as often as she used to, and when she does, it's forced. Her blue eyes don’t have the electric spark they once had. If Aleks invites her to hang out, half the time she comes up with an excuse to bow out. Those few occasions she does go out, it’s with a group of their friends. In those extremely rare cases when he gets her alone, a certain blond girl shows up.
With his bag slung over his shoulder, Aleks saunters into the lecture hall. He gives the area a once over and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees she isn’t there yet. It’s only prolonging the inevitable, but it gives him a few minutes to think things over, or to rethink things over. After ambling to his seat, Aleks drops into it, folds his arms on the
A World of My Own...If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.A World of My Own...3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Nothing would be what it is because everything will be what it isn't
"Allison, what are you doing here so early? Well, you might as well come in and help me set up the desks. And what are you doing wearing a sweater on such a hot morning?"
Twelve numbers on a clock. She liked looking at clocks. They were steady. Unsurprising. The numbers were comforting, helped her to plan her exit strategies. she knew that when the duotone kitchen clock's little hand was on the six, and the big hand was on the three, even though her little blue alarm clock said it was only six o'clock, she had better leave the house quick even if her lunch wasn't packed, because it took over forty minutes to walk to school, and she had only one more tardy mark until the teacher called Mommy. Mommy didn't like it when the teacher phoned her, and never gave her dinner when she got a call, so she supposed it was better to be safe than sorry.
Conversation"I am driving in a Hummer. I am on a two lane highway. I was listening to Counting Crows before panic threatened to cut off my air supply. Air supply is a band. I have no idea what they sing. I'm pretty sure they were a clue on Jeopardy once. I…I…have to pull over so I can breathe."Conversation2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Omar put on his blinker and steered the over-compensation-mobile to the shoulder of the road. He fumbled with the lock on the door and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest when he tried to get out of the car and couldn't. Seatbelt. It was just the seatbelt. His hands were slick with cold sweat by the time the belt whizzed cheerfully back into its place and he managed to slide out onto the shoulder of the road.
He was glad it was so late and glad that the highway was so deserted. He was trembling so hard that the change in his pockets rattled and he never would have been able to speak if someone had pulled up and offered to help. He hated for people to witness his panic.
The Dream of RealityA dream is not realityThe Dream of Reality3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But a dream can set you free.
Dreary days and lonesome nights
What I wouldn't give to see the lights
That I heard tell were in the sky
Before unbelief did drink them dry
But who am I to think such things
To command a cosmos like a king?
No, it's not for me to question this
Reality, that's all there is
Nothing more than simple life
And that's enough; why create strife?
Take what I've been given, don't make waves
Who cares if darkness is sometimes too much to take?
And yet I still think about those lights way up there
What did they look like? How did they burn without air?
Did they form patterns? What kind, I wonder?
Did they still shine even though the lightning and thunder?
These questions and more perplexed me, it's true
I sought answers but found too few
I tried hard to put it out of my mind
But it soon became clear I was in a bind
Until one night, I found myself walking through a void
Dark, dark, it seemed that everything had been destroyed
The Human Condition Chapter 1: EnthrallmentFandom: HomestuckThe Human Condition Chapter 1: Enthrallment2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Summary: It’s been five sweeps since the invasion of a little blue planet on the outskirts of Imperial Space, and the majority of its primitive, dominant species are now the property of Her Imperial Empire, bought and sold as slaves and exotic pets. Meanwhile, Alternia is embroiled in a budding social revolution led by a familiar, sass-mouthed, mutantblooded shortstack. And four newly-domesticated human wigglers have somehow found themselves smack-dab in the middle of it all. Non-Sburb Reverse Petstuck AU.
As you can see by the enclosed little pillow heart, Aunt Jane’s been teaching me to knit. I’m not very good yet, but I’ve been practicing. I hope you like it. <3
Things have been kind of quiet lately. I don’t mind, though. I still hate it when we all have to hide in the bunker from the Imperial drones. Remember when John accidentally kicked that pile of buckets over and I screamed like Jaspers did
Tomorrow's Reflection and Yesterday's EchoCategory: Fanfiction CrossoverTomorrow's Reflection and Yesterday's Echo3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Fandom(s): Hetalia | Firefly | Hunger Games
Summary: The personification of what used to be the United States of America runs into what he thinks is a clone of himself while wandering through the marketplace of a small town in District 4. What he ends up discovering is simultaneously a blast from the past and a peek into the future, and it's unlikely that anyone will ever be quite the same afterward... Oneshot drabblefic, AU crossover between two preexisting AUs.
Alfred F. Jones - formerly known the personification of the United States of America and currently one of three nations jointly representing the whole of what was once the continent of North America - was in a surprisingly chipper mood. Granted, District 4 wasn't exactly the most chipper of places and it looked like it was going to storm soon, but Alfred didn't really care at the moment. Who cared about rain when wonderful, glorious food was staring him right in the face, just waiting
The Doppelganger 2The book still sings to me, and that's when I pull it from under my bed and stroke the cover. But I never open it, because I know what happens if I do it wrong. It's still blank; but only of ink. I know the secret, you see. It's how I understand the songs, and know the melodies it echoes up to me, through time. There are impressions hidden in the pages- spilled mead and raucous laughter, summer sunshine and frost on dead leaves. The last time I tried feeling them from start to finish, I passed out from the sheer weight of knowledge, and it left my brain scrambled for ages.The Doppelganger 23 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found out things about my past and my family's past. I have Irish on my dad's side of the family, stretching back generations. I'd have said I was surprised when I found out, but that would have been a lie.
People say I've changed since last spring. My face is thinner, my eyes are brighter, I've been "brought out of myself." What they don't know is that I've actually met myself. I've taken to wearing rich, d
Teach MeEvelyn sat on her bed with her head hanging over the edge, her ashen hair trialing down like a waterfall to the ground, and her eyes shut in concentration. Her face was scrunched up. “Nate, I can’t remember the next line to the poem my tutor taught me.”Teach Me2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“So? What am I supposed to do about it?”
“Can you grab the book for me?”
The guard hesitated. “Um, which one?”
“I don’t remember the title,” she sighed. “Didn’t you see it?”
“Well, you’re no help,” the girl griped. “Look for it. Please. I think the cover was leather bound.”
Nate picked up the nearest book with that vague description and held it out to her, displaying the front cover. “Hey, Evelyn, is this it?”
She didn’t open her eyes. “What’s the title?”
“Why don’t you look for yourself?” he suggested sardonically.
His charge made a guttura
.:W.o.C Seeker Types:. (Descriptions) Listed in order of probability.:W.o.C Seeker Types:. (Descriptions)3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
-ability to see creatures (probability of losing sight of creature: ½ )
Activation Age: 5 years
Seekers appear as normal everyday people. The only differences are that Seekers learn faster than normal people.
Probability: 1/1000 seekers
-Eyes become a sky-blue color
-Eyes fade darker as the seeker becomes weaker; eyes become darker than their natural color upon exiting seeker state (darkness depends on the severity of weakness)
Activation age: 16 years
-ability to see creature (probability of losing sight of creature: 1/9)
-Requires great concentration/energy
-abilities can cause side-effects
-takes years to learn properly
The Finest Casket (Complete Story)The chandlers, grocers, butchers, clothiers, and every other merchant in Chantsville was yelling in the streets outside the shop where I was studiously working. Their ruckus combined with the bleats and squawks of livestock wandering underfoot, creating a bustling racket that would drive the unfamiliar ear to distraction.The Finest Casket (Complete Story)3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was used to the noise, however, and I was so engrossed in my work that I would have sworn the world was silent save for the sound of my chisel biting into the cedar box before me. Delicate curls fell from my worktable, collecting in small drifts upon the dirt floor.
I stopped to wipe sweat from my face. The pause gave me a moment to step back and survey my work.
Yes, the casket was coming along beautifully. I had mitered the joints meticulously. I had planed it smooth as glass before tracing out the panels on each side. I had spent days, chisel in hand, carving the scenes into the wood, and the entire workshop smelled strongly of cedar.
It was almost done, and the c
Puddle-jumpingShe looks through a puddle to the hole on the other side.Puddle-jumping2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Some dreams fell down there a while ago, and if she can just snag a little of the bright ribbon at their tails, perhaps she could follow them in there.
I mean, it looks quite nice, what with all the blue glowing back at her pigtails, and the
clouds seem quite friendly. I wonder if they know hide and seek?
So in she jumps, wellies and all, but somehow only manages a splash and a splutter, and a muddy pattern over her socks.
But it doesn't matter - there's always tomorrow. She'll try again then.
For it's sad, really, when others look into puddles and all they expect to see is the ground.
The Blessings of BeginningsCategory: Fanfiction CrossoverThe Blessings of Beginnings3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Fandom(s): Hetalia | Firefly
Summary: Humanity has begun to get settled into their new galaxy, and so have their respective nations. The appearances of two new personifications have quite cemented that fact, and China's about to meet one for the very first time.
Yao gave an explosive sigh as he collapsed on the plush couch, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Why, why, why couldn't the parliament seem to agree on anything today? It was only the first day of the joint parliament sessions of the governments of the planets Londinium and Sihnon, held this month on Londinium, and Yao was already ready for it all to be over.
He and Alfred had just returned from the meeting to the large manor where all the surviving Anglo-Saxon nations - plus a couple others from the Western Hemisphere of Earth-That-Was resided. Alfred had immediately made a beeline for the kitchen (of course), while Yao had started off for his room
The Stick PeopleIn a town called Rushing Water, there lived a woodcarver with no face.The Stick People2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When we were small, my brothers and I, Daddy would sometimes take us to visit her. We would sit there at her kitchen table, amazed, as this woman with no eyes – and indeed no nose or mouth – would pour out our tea without spilling a drop.
I was frightened of her because she looked so strange, so grotesque. All the other days of my life, I encountered people with faces – square faces, oval faces, faces round and smiling like the moon with slanted eyes or big dark ones or little beady bird eyes. Snub noses, Romans or long, thin, birdlike ones like mine. Yet here was a woman with none of that or any of the faculties that come with those organs.
As a little girl, I dreaded our visits to the faceless woodcarver. But now that I've grown up I miss most all the memories of my childhood, even the somewhat unpleasant ones, so I sometimes let them wander through my mind even when they aren't invited. So I remember the woodcarv
Impact Theory"What do you want to be when you grow up?"Impact Theory2 years ago in Horror More Like This
It's a question Welknan schoolteachers ask their students every year, from the day the children enter school to the day the young adults leave. Answers are carefully catalogued and presented to the students at their graduation ceremony in a beautifully decorated scrapbook made by the teacher of each student, added to each year, growing with the child.
It's arguably a silly tradition, and perhaps even morbid to remind the adults of failed childhood dreams, but it's meant to inspire and the children love it, and it's something to do anyway.
Some kids stick to plain, safe answers- tailor, construction, banker, teacher, doctor. Others get imaginative- artist, musician, architect. Others still are painfully practical- shop assistant, office worker. Once in a while, a few are philosophical- "me" and "good" are common.
Rosalin is invariably of the plain variety, not because she isn't imaginative, practical, or philosophical (she is, at times), but be
Why The Hate?when they see a happy ending,Why The Hate?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they like to put it down.
"that's so stupid. that never happens."
anything that isn't them,
they cannot understand.
and when they don't know what it is,
they want to tear it down.
they never take the time to look
at something that is different.
they just assume that it is wrong.
their minds are never open.
they also like to tell you exactly why they hate.
they don't know how to shut their mouths.
they never learn to listen.
they're only full of criticism.
they hardly ever smile.
and when they can't find happiness,
they never realize why.
happiness is something made.
it can't be bought or given.
you're as happy as you choose to be
but not through negativity.
when i see a happy ending,
it gives me a smile.
"that's so beautiful. i'll make that happen."
60th Hunger Games OCT - Hinge's ReapingThe smell of frying bacon and potatoes roused Hinge from a deep sleep. Wonder why Juni’s using the last of our meat ration today? he thought hazily, yawning and reaching up to rub the sleep out of one eye. He noticed that Spirit had crawled into bed with him again sometime during the night and rolled his eyes fondly. That boy just couldn’t stay in his own bed for anything, could he? Well, Hinge supposed he couldn’t complain. It at least kept them both warmer, especially considering this old, ramshackle house had more chinks in its walls than a pegboard. They’d be hard pressed to patch even the worst of them up before winter came. Ah well, since today was a day off for everyone, once they all came home after the yearly Reaping, he, Nick and Terry could work on fixing this dump to make it a little more livable… wait…60th Hunger Games OCT - Hinge's Reaping2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Golden brown eyes shot open fully, and Hinge’s arm reflexively tightened around the little body curled up against hi
Waiting I remember the first time I noticed Gertrude. She had been there for as long as I could remember, part of the scenery, a statue that barely registered. I was five and she was already old, though she never seemed to age. She was sitting on the curb surrounded by weathered pink luggage and I felt, for the first time, a quicksilver curiosity about her.Waiting3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Mommy, why does that lady have all those bags?" I tugged on my mother's hand and pointed at the woman not far from us. "Is she going someplace?"
"Quiet, Crystal!" Her voice was a low hiss and she pulled me closer to her side. I stared at the woman as we hurried past. She was still, like stone, her face was sunken and etched with deep lines. "Hello, Ms. Thompson."
She looked up at us, her eyes wide and gl
i) Wanderlusti),i) Wanderlust3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The first time I met the girl who started a revolution the sky was throwing down so much rain it felt like we were underwater. It was hard to breathe; and maybe that was because of all the rain, but probably it was because I looked at her face, under this dark red hood, and inside I was a story with all these feelings I could never say. I guess those feelings could only ever become words on paper - words in ink - not the kind I could ever speak aloud to anybody, if only because I couldn't bear for a person to see the look on my face while I remembered. Despite how good it felt - so hopeful, so desperately happy for what it was and could become - at the same time it was drowning in this sea, like the sky that day, for the way that everything else wasn't. And I said, what's your name?
At first we called her August when I brought her back to Jack's flat, which his parents paid for mostly, and which we used for getting high, mostly. She curled up in the armchair and rarely left it from
Fey RoadsFey Roads by Mercury Herlan, 2/5/08Fey Roads2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The girl stood at the edge of the deep forest. Only now was she having second thoughts about journeying into fey territory. “You’d have to be mad to go into those woods!” One of the Elders had said about her frequent trips into the forest.
“I’m mad, then.” Of course, this trip was different from the others. Previously, she’d stayed on the edges, where only a glimpse could be seen of the fey. Now, her feet would have to carry her deep in. But hesitation was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She stepped in, and the trees soon hid all signs of the village behind.
She was on the border of comfort. Behind her, light shown between the tree-tops. In front, there was no such blessing. The line was very clear, and quite worrisome. But the ley-line she’d been following led straight into the bracken. She was desperate for fey magic, so she took a reluctant step into the unknown. Everything changed at o
The CartI always got my best book recommendations from my old library cart. Well, the library cart wasn't really mine. I was a shelver at my town's library, before I started college, and I would use their carts to do my job.The Cart4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I first noticed something was up with the cart when I was shelving juvenile paperbacks. These were the lightest books we owned (and kept in the worst shape - kids are brats). But when I was rolling the cart, it was heavy. It groaned when I pushed it, and steering it was a mini-workout. It wasn't this hard to move a double-stack of adult non-fiction.
What was really odd, though, was as I removed more books, it barely got lighter. Finally, when all of the Fairy Princesses, Mary Kate and Ashley's, and other stupid books were shelved, its weight became normal. Only R.L. Stine's Goosebumps remained, and it was actually pretty light, even lighter than I'd expect.
I shrugged the incident off. But then I noticed it happening more and more. And then I noticed patterns
Life is Full of StoriesLife is full of stories; every moment, every person, everything has one hidden inside. For those of us who’ve learned to look, life is a story, one we retell for others in our art, our writing, our creative expression.Life is Full of Stories2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Mercury had landed a job selling ice cream at a lakeside park; the past two days on the job had been disappointing at best—the Seattle area was known and renowned for its rainy, overcast weather, and didn’t disappoint, even in summer. Today promised to be different; blazingly bright, 85 degrees in the shade, and the park was packed. “Ice cream! You scream! We all scream for ice cream!” Mercury called, letting everyone in earshot know that the ice cream stand was open for business.
The day passed quickly, with the freezer steadily emptying.
“Hey, I love your shirt,” a woman said, smiling. Mercury had worn one of his favorite shirts today; the front was emblazoned with the words “Careful, or you’ll end up in my n