Chronicles of PainChronicles of Pain10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Whispers breached the carefree mood in the corridor when the boy entered. "Outcast," they taunted. "Insane," they hurled. The boy walked straight, feigning deaf. Though his ears were brimming with the insults, it was easier this way. His footsteps were carefully measured, every step landing with a distinct thud that seemed to echo through the hall. His eyes crept over every crack of the luminescent floor, carefully studying the erratic specks of colors. He recognized every single speck, every tiny crack. He went through this every morning, for his social exile was daily.
His thoughts crept slowly back to his childhood. Even as a toddler he had been strange. While most children were playing carelessly in the sandbox, he was slinking back into the shadows, desperately praying to go unnoticed. He longed for normal memories for his only memories were of books and imaginary friends.
The most prominent was that of a girlfriend, a new girl to town. She had been drawn in
The Littlest PresidentThe Littlest President10 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
The Littlest President
At the age of eleven I was elected the 50th president of the United States of America. My analysts put my win down to youth (I was the youngest ever to run) and to the unfortunate late-October acne breakout of my incumbent rival, an eighth grader from Massachusetts. I have a stronger faith in the New Rules than do my analysts, who are always looking at polls and running them through sacred formula. I ascribe my presidency to the good sense of America, my hard work at Security School, and the stunning leadership of my handlers.
Once my presidency was officially announced, my face was given another coat of foundation and I was ushered up to a podium in front of a large crowd of my supporters. There was a crashing sea of applause. Most of my supporters were dumpy women in their thirties – just barely old enough to remember a time before we had the New Rules – these were my core demographic, although my handlers dutifully i
__. I'm sorry__. I'm sorry10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
By Tony Tran
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when it was your 5th Birthday. I wasn't able to see the happiness striking across your face, the anticipation running through your veins at the point of opening your presents. The blissful joy of all your friends and family around you as they sang happy birthday, that day was a memory I never had the chance to remember.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you had your first day at school. It was like a new world for you filled with friendship, independence and above all, fun. I'll always regret not being there to pick you up after school and having you run into my arms at a thousand miles per hour, as though you hadn't seen me in years. Those days when you came home and started humming a harmonious song that you learnt, it was a tune I'd never hear.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were eight years old and just learnt to ride your first bike. The breeze going through your hair as yo
Live in a Time 2 b Lost, FreeLive in a Time 2 b Lost, Free10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Time is lapsing irregularly
Time is breaking all the rules
Time to see all....
Lost in a world of strange places
Lost inside the language changes
Lost behind a grand facade...
Live in life, do not watch
Live for the experiences
Live to make changes....
AfterlifeAfterlife10 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A desert road.
A body lies on the road. SAM is sitting on it. It is his corpse. He gets up. Looks at the body, and looks at himself. He feels himself for fat. He goes stage LEFT. As he reaches the end, he stops. He then goes stage RIGHT. He stops. He looks out toward the audience. He goes upstage. He goes downstage. Finally, he glumly takes a seat on his body again and sighs heavily with his chin in both hands, elbows on his knees. He stares at the ground and takes no notice of his surroundings.
Enter CHARON, stage RIGHT. He is wearing simple brown robes and a walking staff. Middle-aged and balding. He drags his feet, hunched over and head down, like someone who has been on his feet for a long time. Noticing SAM, he straightens himself. He takes a scrol
Hostility Towards TerragenHostility Towards Terragen9 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Hostility towards the program terragen has always been present, and most likely, always will be. But let's get down to brass tacks. What is terragen? It's a 3d scenery generator. Right. There's no real Modelling process involved per se, and it looks and works completely different (to all means and purposes of the majority) to a 3d modelling application such as 3d studio max or Maya. It is comprised of a series of mostly numerical controls, and a few random generators based on numerical/slider inputs.
...this means, it's an easy program, and requires little or no effort to pull off good results.
Here's my favourite word of this article. WRONG.
The program is as deep as you want it to be, just as many other art orientated programs are. The quality of the results produced from it are proportional to the artists skill in using it. Just becau
Fulfillment through DepravityFulfillment through Depravity10 years ago in Horror More Like This
They call me crazy. I beg to differ. I'm sentenced to die only for their lack of understanding. So, here I sit day after day in this cold, lonely, dark jail-cell. Fed once daily, I'm slowly thinning away, still filled with the lust of my chosen delicacy and the hatred that was bred upon me. I don't know how long I've been here or how long I'll stay. No windows to the outside world are present to accompany me, only one diminutive hole near the top of the door shining in a small beam of light through from the prison corridor. I've grown somewhat accustomed to this new lifestyle of mine however bleak it may be in comparison to the stirring existence of my past.
I was born on August 13, 1974, putting me now at slightly over fifty years old. My mother unfortunately died during labor, leaving my single father to raise me alone. My unstable father was traumatized b
Peace to a Wrathful GodPeace to a Wrathful God5 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The bloody sights and sounds of annihilation had died, replaced by a blackened sound of silence that hung in the air like death as Sylmeria walked amidst the shambles of the once prosperous city, now laid low by the tempers of a force that had torn stone from foundations and scorched flesh from bone. Now, amidst all the bodies of the dead and running rivulets of their blood, she stood alone before the architect and engine of destruction which had brought her world crashing down around her. It gazed down at her from atop its perch, the blasted remains of a once powerful stone wall now reduced to the stool of a great winged beast who in its final moments had settled upon it in mortal repose.
She stepped forwards haltingly, her white dress and red hair seeming to illuminate her amidst the carnage through which she stepped as she approached the fearsome creature upon whose whim her world had ended.
It gazed upon her, its eyes blazing as red as the blood through which she walked. Those eyes
All I Want For ChristmasEver since I was a childAll I Want For Christmas5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All I ever wanted for Christmas was you.
For you to magically appear behind me
Wrap warm arms around my broken heart.
Save me from this empty feeling I feel inside.
Make me love Christmas again just like you used to.
Ever since you went away
All I ever wanted for Christmas was you.
For you to whisper into sound ears
"I love you" but instead I got silence.
You used to hum Christmas tunes
Along with your beaten up stereo.
And I'd giggle so much I'd hiccup.
Santa can you please give me my mom for Christmas?
I promise I've been a good girl this year, every year since 1990.
Just put a bow on her head and place her underneath my christmas tree.
I used to press my chubby face against cold dewed windows
Waiting for santa to give me what I wanted
But instead I got useless crap and a broken down heart.
DrumsThe rhythm climaxes, like pulsating souls.Drums7 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Spanish OrchardSpanish Orchard9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the roadside orchards were
bright as peaches
firming in autumn breeze
I was broken in lay-by pieces.
a lightly-painted lady,
elephant faced with
horse's complexion, approached.
Her expression --
that of dripping canvas.
I glanced and turned politely
(screwdriver in hand)
toward my choking car.
The pointed sound of her running,
heels clicking, dress
coating tarmac lime.
She clawed onto my arms with
pushing varnish nails
into male flesh.
Her thin lips flickered pastel dust.
time stood between us, as she
rambled words of
who'd walked into the orchard
convinced he was tree.
She told me of how he stood
proudly growing fruit.
which come the autumn fell imperfect,
rotting into earth.
inspirational incongruityinspirational incongruity10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
awaken me from this nightmare
a chance to relive my mistakes
in painful reality i surrender
out of anger flies tranquility
screaming lights make eyes cry
distorted sounds make ears bleed
warped senses make bodies collapse
a head trip to watch out for
incongruity shapes the world
nothing fits, everything unique
timeless counts of configuration
lifeless times of misunderstanding
manipulation of world knowledges
i hate the imperfection
seemingly scheming doubts
gnawing away at spinal thoughts
jargon jarring the minds
of trained analytics, placed
to throw the pragmatical sense
this cryptic rhymless rythem
depression runs free
optimism asks a question
if to remain morbid
to be called depressing
or to smile and suffer
to be overlooked, with disinterest
life runs a crooked course
with no map to guide
till the end is reached
no one can know where they go
levensleszuivel vergaat snellevensles5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
net als geliefde bezittingen
en onvoorwaardelijke liefde
teleurgestelde hoofden schudden
vaker dan dat de zon onder gaat
emoties komen en gaan
welke is nog betrouwbaar
dialogen zonder inhoud
ze lijken haast normaal
het treinverkeer ligt stil
laten we dan maar wachten
He had very sharp teeth.There was obviously something wrong with her, but there was something wrong with them all. The way that they moved rigidly through the streets, the way that their hearts beat with the preciseness of a metronome, the way that their thoughts were the same there was something there that was just not right.He had very sharp teeth.5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
So it was no wonder that she was insane; there was no other real choice to make. Oh, she did not think she was mad, and neither did they, but strict definition dictates it as such. It truthfully was not so much that she was mentally inebriated, but that she was afraid.
Now, there are many fears in the world. For example, there is phronemophobia, the fear of thinking. There is also epistemophobia, the fear of actually knowing. She did not suffer from such fears. All that she suffered from was simply heliophobia, a trivial fear compared to the other two; not many even care to remember what it
Sun in a Bottle. Part 1. Солнце в бутылке. Часть первая.Sun in a Bottle. Part 1.6 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Вокруг ворочалась темнота. Беспокойная душная пугливая, она тяжёлыми чёрными тенями перекатывалась по стенам, недовольная редкими л&
God Is DeadGod Is Dead10 years ago in Humor More Like This
God's robes flapped around him as he looked over the edge and onto the street below.
"Don't do it! Don't do it!" cried the security guard behind him.
God said nothing, climbing onto the raised edge of the building. Five storeys below, people were beginning to take notice.
"Jesus Christ! Look!
"Oh my god!"
"Where's my camera?"
He turned and faced the security guard, who stopped walking and gazed upon the face of God. He'd been crying.
"But... why? You've got so much to live for..."
God gave a wan smile. "So have all of you."
He spread his arms wide, closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, falling back and off the building.
* * *
A crowd was gathering around the black, sticky mess that remained of What-Once-Was Our Lord.
"Is he dead?"
"Who is it?"
"Where's my camera?"
The bystander effect was operating at maximum efficiency, causing everyone to just stand there and looked at the mangled remains. Presently, however, a fine upstan
ScarsI watch people cover upScars8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in their clothes,
I have a gift
for seeing their scars
looking through their skin
to their hearts
feel my presence
when you fall apart
I will put you back
like from the start
I keep missing you
through my mental fields of blue
I wish I could just watch you
feeling the way I wanted to
unravelling your scars
through the gift Ive starved
Its hard to grow up
keep looking back
watching the scars
grow up to your neck
I know Ill be your angel still
even though Im far from anything real
Ill watch your scars
so they you they dont kill
and promise to watch mine
so I can start to feel
two weeks bid my farewell.two weeks bid my farewell.9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
could i say?
i miss you
empty is my bed
blackets lay folded
neat and tidy
they have no more use
comfort has been lost
i long for it
the nights have gotten colder
like icy steel pressed against your
i toss and turn
there is nothing to stop my body
space takes your place
apathy for this sleep fills me
overwhelmed with loneliness?
rain knocks on my window pane
this proves to be my only company
breezes brush through my room
as if teasing and taunting me
reminding me of how you came
Remember Methe ring ofRemember Me5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the piano, its
warm scents of
coffee and cinnamon
filling the kitchen and
the hours that tick
a hazy glow
behind the shuttered
windows pulsing from
the flare of
sharpness of oranges
steady drop of kisses
upon bared sides under
the heavy breaths of
midnight and the shallow
glint of stars.
with every constant staccato pulse of that steady flutter withing your chest