My Warrior CatsKuroClanMy Warrior Cats7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Leader: Twilightstar- a beautiful black and white she-cat with bottomless black eyes
Deputy: Hiddenshadow- a black tom with a white dash across his chest and bottomless black eyes; some cats say that Twilightstar is his sister
Medicine Cat: Robingaze- a tortishell she-cat with olive-green eyes.
Rockheart- a dark brown tabby tom with harsh green eyes
Musicdevil- A white tom with blue eyes and bright red markings that appear to be in the shape of musical notes
Starbucks- a delicate brown tabby tom with white paws and gentle brown eyes. It was usually forbidden to have star before your name, but his mother, Melodysong, insisted that he was born to be a leader but never would be, so he deserved star in his name
Lightwhisper- a golden tabby she-cat with one green eye and one blue eye
Punktail- a tom with a strange violet colored pelt and clear blue eyes
Soaringheart- a blonde she-cat with brown eyes and a unbreakable spirit
Then There Wasn'tDay 1Then There Wasn't1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The colors went missing. Yeah - I know that makes no sense. But they’re missing now, and I get the feeling this is part of something bigger. Like an omen.
My boyfriend says he can’t get here til tomorrow, and I’m a bit worried. I just want to see him in case something terrible happens.
I should call my parents too.
We’ve gone numb. He’s here but touching doesn’t help. The TV says it’s not just us.
Also on TV, lots of people are scared. Some are hoisting up every flag they’ve got. Do they think a magical eagle is going to come down and save us? You can barely even recognize the American flag without color.
Well, at least we’ve got voices.
Thank god irony didn’t hit. We didn’t lose our voices overnight. But we did lose names.
It’s titles too. And brands. Nothing identifies the difference between TV sta
I can't hold back the seasonsYou blew this candle out, and now the horizons will forever be constellations.I can't hold back the seasons6 years ago in Teen More Like This
September nights have always been the same.
Those small and fragile rivers beginning to slowly freeze over. The pine branch sculptures encrusted over their thick layer of see through skin. A forbidden silhouette for the world to see.
You said you liked that.
I cant breathe with your lips on mine.
October nights have always been the same.
The cherry blossom days are over and the threaded gold leaves are in the air, tying themselves to the frail arms of dying oak trees.
You said you loved that.
The clocks have stopped, and the tables have turned. Just to be turned again.
November nights have always been the same.
You bite your lips and watch blood fall on a new orchestra of snow, the shards of ice exploding with the warm velvet- sparkling and flaring throughout the lamplight of your lantern.
You said you liked me.
I cant take my hand from the stars, I can
NotesJack approached his new colleague Ms. Bösendorfer as she stood using the photocopier.Notes1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Melody,” he said, “I wonder, do you have the notes for…”
“I’m going to have to stop you there,” said Ms. Bösendorfer, turning to look at him. “You mustn’t use my first name.”
“Oh,” said Jack. “Sorry—I didn’t mean anything... Yes, I suppose we haven’t been properly introduced yet.” He put out his hand. “I’m Jack.”
Ms. Bösendorfer took his hand and shook it firmly once before releasing it again. “Lovely to meet you, Jack. But you still shouldn’t use my first name.”
“Right. If you prefer…” said Jack.
“It’s not a case of what I prefer.” Ms. Bösendorfer sighed. “I suppose you’d better know.” She looked away slightly. “Once someone has said my first name three times, I instantaneo
Stone Age Zombie Apocalypse Gorg not move three days. I count to make sure. Sun up, sun down. Gorg not move. Sun up, sun down. Gorg still not move. Sun up, sun down. Gorg not move at all.Stone Age Zombie Apocalypse1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We call him dead and dig hole for him. It seem right. No animals eat Gorg. We think Gorg like that.
We bury Gorg. We move on. Gotta stay close to mammoth herd. We need food. Pretty sure Gorg understand. He dead, after all.
But then strange thing happen.
Hot times come. Cold times come. Hot times come back.
Gorg comes back.
Not sure what happened. Was it prank? Gorg not funny before he dead. Mostly Gorg yell and hit things. Good hunter, Gorg.
But now Gorg kinda funny. He not hunt mammoth. He kill Rahg first night back. Then Rahg get up. He help Gorg kill others.
I too scared to fight. I run instead. They chase after me.
They strange now. They no get tired. They no need eat. Except eat people.
Beneath Her Beautiful"I'm a tailor," he told her, when they first met. "A dressmaker, too." He knew it wouldn't catch her attention the way a doctor or a CEO might, but his passion was what got them all interested in the end. When she asked about his work, he played up the sensory aspect - the sight of a newly created outfit; the fresh scent of his fabrics and the sheer artistry involved. He talked, too, about the pleasure he found in spotting the imperfections beneath the outer beauty.Beneath Her Beautiful1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
By the time he got to his customary pick-up line, the one he'd stolen from a popular song, she was already pretty taken in. He stole her breath when he asked her to show him the imperfections she hid.
He hummed as he manipulated his instruments, scissors making small cuts here and there. The tapestry he was creating would, he knew, be a masterpiece. Like a surgeon, he made precise snips that allowed for a perfect edge.
Everything was just right, and as he pulled her skin away from the muscles below, he sang happily to h
OzymandiasJuly 3, 1928Ozymandias3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The excavation commenced this morning. Max claims we'll have this temple untucked before next October, but I know he's being excessively optimistic for Arthur's sake. Still, who'd suppose we could even manage this far without bumbling ourselves into a cataract? I rode on a camel for the first time only a month ago, and the beast didn't even bite me. I'd say that's success already.
Bloody hot. Why'd we go in summer again?
We've got some sort of corner showing through. Can't determine yet whether it's from the point of a pyramid-like object, or the corner of a more rectangular sort. Odd angle. I suppose centuries of sand will do that to you.
It'll be an awful lot more interesting when we get to the proper haul, though I imagine most of that's inside. Until then it's picks and more picks and sweating little snail trails on the sand. Makes it very clear how much of man is liquid.
Arthur's had that twitchy look about him all day
Invasion fleetThe invasion fleet emerged from the oort cloud, adapted their shields to the heliosphere and merged with the debris of the scattered disc. In layman's terms, they were stealthily approaching earth.Invasion fleet3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Haro peered out of the window. The hive mind chattered in his head. It was only short range, about .35 of a parsec wide, but he spent a lot of his time tuning in. Sometimes he thought he could feel her out there, on the edge of his consciousness. The stars reflected in his glazed amber eyes. He sighed. Back to business. He focused himself on the voices close to him. There was a meeting in progress on the local channel.
It was not going well. Their objective was to attack Earth. The problem was that nobody knew why or how they were going to achieve it. General Langmuir only seemed concerned with blowing up landmarks and hovering in a menacing manner. Captain Coulomb had already attempted to infiltrate the human hive by laying thousands of eggs in the chamber of their Queen, but the humans had
AdvectionThe only smolder she has left is a sunburn from passing out too long in her driveway. It's summer. When she drinks to keep cool, she drinks alone.Advection2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Some quiets don't come before a storm, but settle in a heart like ash after a flame.
A bit of ash falls after each sunset. She collects.
A Fort in Nellis.I was mostly stunned and proud of Boone and myself for surviving the barrage of explosions that greeted us at Nellis. Boone, never one too thrilled at finding himself alive, was far more angry toward the Boomers. While I could understand his impatience at a people so backwards and sheltered that they just blew up anything that came toward them, he seemed to be holding a grudge. At my request, he helped clear out the generators where the ants had taken up residence, and sat on the roof handing me tools to repair the solar panels. But he spoke barely a word all day, letting his anger seethe. I didn't disturb him with idle conversation.A Fort in Nellis.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I didn't mind helping the Boomers, and indeed felt akin to them in some way. They were frightened of the fighting and what had happened to the world. They were, by a stroke of luck, sitting on a horrendously large stockpile of weapons that they could use to defend themselves
The Good, the Bad, and the Very, Very Lucky“Them’s be fightin’ wordses!” cried Bad Grammar McGraw.The Good, the Bad, and the Very, Very Lucky3 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The patrons of the Anvil and Piano fell silent.
“Wait!” shouted Unlucky Luke, waving his hands frantically. “I said posse. Your sister’s posse.”
“He’s done saided it again!” McGraw slammed down his chuggin’ whiskey. “These calls for an duel!”
Unlucky Luke found himself being shoved outside into the dusty street. He wasn’t sure whether it was deliberate or just a result of the natural rush of drunken cowboys hurrying to gawk. Either way, he found himself standing in the middle of the road facing down Bad Grammar McGraw.
“Ain’t nobody is can outdraw McGraw!” He waggled his fingers over his holster.
Unlucky Luke was aware that duelling etiquette dictated that he retu
Tantrum Tremors (FFM Day 8)God, reincarnated and still bundled in diapers, throws himself to the floor and screams. A giraffe chewy falls from his mouth; his hands beat against the blue-gray linoleum. Stricken, his nursemaids and I rush to soothe him, cursing. Holy or not, two-year-old God is a terror.Tantrum Tremors (FFM Day 8)1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The morning started off fine. He'd managed to Houdini his way out of the crib--and the locked nursery--before the sun tinged the clouds with highlights, leaving a trail of milk through Heaven. He got halfway to Earth before the night shift, cross and tired, caught up with him and passed him over. He'd finger-painted his oatmeal across his highchair and dropped his Snoopy sippy cup just to be funny. He'd then settled in to watch his favorite movie: Finding Nemo. Nestled on my lap, he'd spent the first part of the movie dozing.
Just as Dory was begging Marlin not to leave her, not to let her forget, God went looking for his ratty, hand-me-down blanket--and came b
Last Minute Shopping It had been an unremarkable Tuesday at the petrol station until Pestilence—of Four Horsemen fame—came in and started leafing through a magazine. He didn’t exactly have a “Hello, my name is...” tag pinned to his robe, but it was pretty obvious to look at him. Limp hair, pale, pock-marked face, bow legs...it was like he had every disease in the world, and was only alive because all of them were tripping over each other trying to kill him. “Three Stooges Syndrome,” I think they call it. But that probably wasn’t it.Last Minute Shopping1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He must have realised I was staring because he said: “Sorry. I know this isn’t, like, a library, but I sent a letter in to the Agony Aunt a while back and I want to see if they’ve printed a response.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “No, that’s okay.” As a rule, I didn’t take issue with people having a quick ski
FFM 2014: The Selkie He watched the waves and waited, every night, bringing only a blanket and the shuttered lantern with one side left open to light the way. And every night she came, stepping onto the shore and slipping out of her second skin, shivering and wet, her dark hair in dripping tangles about her shoulders. Still as lithe and moon-pale as the first day he’d seen her so many years before. Still as remote and unfathomable as the sea.FFM 2014: The Selkie1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He never asked questions, never tried to speak at first, just handed her the blanket and wrapped one arm around her as they made their way up the shore to the Lighthouse. Still dripping she would visit the children’s room, and watch them sleeping as the first blush of dawn touched the horizon.
He’d make her breakfast; pancakes were the favourite, and by the time the kids were ready to get up she would be herself again, loud and smiling and present, and the wildness o
never.he holds his headnever.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and shakes in his seat,
collapses in upon himself
in searing pain--
smothering me with
neverending words of shame
and promise, like
like "it doesn't matter, not ever."
Intelligent DiscussionThere was only one seat left in the bar. Richard slid into it without a second thought, without even glancing at either of his neighbors…until he heard the one on his right call for the bartender at the same time as him. Then they both looked.Intelligent Discussion1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The patrons immediately around them hushed. Over by the door, the bouncer looked quietly attentive.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” the bartender asked, a clear warning in her tone. Richard gave his neighbor another side-long glance, saw his own narrow-eyed, wary expression reflected back at him, and offered the first tentative flag-wave of a truce.
“No. I’m here for a vacation.”
“…me, too,” said the other, and since there were still no other empty seats to be had, they settled back into their adjacent stools and did their best to ignore each other as the rest of the bar relaxed around them.
Unfortunately, ignoring your arch-nemesis, an arch-nemesis apparently on vacation i
The Third HimGentle forehead resting against mineThe Third Him6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Soft breath against soft lips
And soft whispers speak their soft words
I am here and you are mine
This calmness scares my quiet, doe eyes
And with your hands around my hips
I close my aching lids.
I'm at peace
If you make me feel so special,
Then why are you so bad?
I can see the faint red clouds,
Of dust and ash
They follow you wherever you go
They are your demons
They are your past
I cannot help but feel my heart flutter in response
With new life and love
With new worry and despair
My fingers reach out and I try
To peel back the mask
See through this invisible film of fog
But it's not there
Like clear, tasteless poison
You have my heart
And it's too late now
RefugeeWhen Craig dies, you burn every letter he ever sent you. You donate all of his gifts and delete his number from your phone.Refugee2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You go to visit his mother, just once. There, she keeps Craig’s room like a shrine.
This used to be your place of refuge. You came here when your parents fought, when you did badly on a test, when you had no reason at all.
It isn’t safe any longer. It still smells like him. You feel you could fall backwards onto his bed and find his body there beside you, his back warm against yours. Pictures of the two of you together stare at you from the walls.
You catch movement from the corner of your eye and turn, quickly, to the mirror. For a minute you see him standing behind you, his shoulders rolled forward and his hair hanging in his eyes. When he lifts his head to meet your gaze, there is nothing—only blackness.
You walk outside at once. The sun is so bright you have to stop, wiping your eyes.
The stacks in section 200, Religion, are glowing, sick
Love slipped through my handsWhen the stars collapsed--Love slipped through my hands4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Chilled, your smile
w a r m e d
Happy AnniversaryIf I were to ask just about anyone in the world if they thought that Synyster Gates had a girly side (especially the damn drooling fan girls), they would probably stand and stare at me like I'm some sort of psychopath. "Gates is a total man! More of a man than you'll ever be, Vengeance." Yeah, I can see that now. But who are they to say exactly what Brian Haner, Junior is and is not? How would the screaming fans react if their precious Syn kissed another man onstage? Wouldn't really mind; pass it off as a joke? How would they feel if they knew that he meant the kiss, that he wanted to taste the lips of the rhythm guitarist?Happy Anniversary5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
How would they feel if their guitar hero, Synyster fucking Gates, were gay and damn near the girliest man in the world when not in front of a camera?
Guess what, bitches?! He is, he's mine, and I'm the fucking man
There he stood in all of his beautiful five-foot, ten-inch glory. My angel, my sweetheart my darling little girl. His chocolate-colore
Letters to DeathDear Death,Letters to Death1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Could you please kill him? Please? Please. Please. Please.
K (age 9)
8 years of silence
Okay. I’m kind of nervous about this, but let’s make one thing clear: I want to talk to you, not meet you. Alright? Just let me sleep a little. Let me find the abyss and come back.
I don’t want to dream anymore. Save me.
1 day of silence
No one could wake me last night. Thank you.
I’m ill, I know that. My cheeks are rough with dried tears, and I can’t stop throwing up the pills that paved the road to you. I love you, but I don’t want to meet you now, not yet. Not anymore. Maybe I’ll change my mind in a few months. That’s the usual pattern. I’ll try not to. I’ll try to stay sane.
Yes. Right now, I swear I will never bother you again.
Lots of love,
2 years of silence
Let this be my official complaint concerning a
My Devine SuccessScreaming, shoutingMy Devine Success6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
God what now?
Another damn row
Voices raise high
What is it this time?
The washing's not done
You act like it's a crime
The yelling gets worse
The tears they rise
I run to my room
Hide my stifled cries
I hear you downstairs
Still going on
Would it be a relief?
If I were gone
I reach for my friend
The old trusty knife
There's comfort in you
An elexir of life
Dig it in deep
Slash up and down
Torture my arm
In the blood I shall drown
An outlet of emotion
Let the anger drain
Release all the sorrow
Frustration and pain
All the feeling
The hurt it is gone
Along with despair
Of rage their is none
Devoid of emotion
Sleep it awaits
Peaceful and calm
The fury deflates
Awake in the moring
Memories gone, lost
All but the blood
Like crimson dawn frost
Wash it away
Leave nothing but scars
Forever in my arm
Like the bright shining stars
Trot off to school
Safe and content
Feeling floods back
The anger all spent
Happy as Larry
They'll never know
Wrists covered up