Mirrors from Afar -Chapter 22Peter got home after half an hour, taking advantage of the early time to take a walk around and clear his head. Or at least think calmly without any interruptions. Even after something so abnormal to him, he still felt strangely calm as he walked through the quiet streets until he reached his house. It wasn't particularly cold that night, only a light breeze gently pushing his hair back as he walked. He figured that any other guy would just think of the date he just had, wondering if he had done well, how the goodnight kiss felt yet all he could think about was his best friend. As if he had already forgotten about his outing with Claire. While he was with her he had pushed it to the back of his mind, but now he had no choice but to think about their fight. The more time passed the guiltier he felt, and the more anxious he got. What if he had lost Matt for good? What if he tried to fix it and it would be too late?Mirrors from Afar -Chapter 224 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
No, I won't accept this.
Once he got inside, he evaded h
A peaceful CoveA peaceful Cove4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A peaceful cove, in mind or place, is where we rest the soul.
A tiny corner of the world, more precious than pure gold.
Pride is tilled, fears are stilled, trust unveils the deep,
trust not in one's own weak strength, but trust in greater things.
Things that ebb, things that flow, mysteries touched, but never known.
Far: the distance one can get, from towering heights, to serene depths.
From sun filled lands, and pure white shores, to the thrilling contents behind closed doors.
Cherished places, come and gone, sometimes things don't last that long.
Worn out shoes, Vacant faces, maps uncharted, empty vases.
Glasses half full, silver linings, it all depends upon the timing.
Appreciation comes from loss, you can't know warmth, til after frost.
Or life's full gift, til after theft, you vainly walk, despise each breath.
People are such silly things, to sinking ships they sadly cling, they see a lost soul writhe in pain, then ask themselves, "what can i gain?"
A warning sign is just advice,
colors"If I were a color,colors4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
what color would I be?
because I'm emo, right?"
because I'm sad, right?"
because I hurt myself, right?"
"I don't understand.
what they said,
everyone, every time.
If none of them
what color am I?"
What kind of blue?"
"Every kind of blue
You're royal blue
because you should be treated
as nothing less than royalty.
You're neon blue
because you're so luminous
and fun at parties,
people would have to be blind
not to see you.
You're sky blue
because you're shy and calm
and humble when the sun
shines on you.
You're midnight blue
because you're dark and sexy
in a subtle way.
You're turquoise blue
because you always go
outside the lines
on paper and in life.
You're cotton candy blue
because you're just as sweet.
You're ocean blue
because you're deep and
sometimes hard to understand
like the sea.
You're pale blue
because you're soft
and warm like a down blanket.
lady in blackyou only walk in blacklady in black4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and god i cant understand it
because, of all the colors of the rainbow
that irradiate through you soul
you choose the only color,
that doesn't exist
and you think that pain deserves you
and you make sure it gets what it does
and trickling glinting red
only one of the colors inside you
in the form that's not meant to see
there's something not right here
there's something upside-down
and i plea you to see
that its not right but wrong
there's something not true here
and no i can't help but cry
and i know you do too.
another color that irradiates from you
that no ones meant to see
the color blue
i stay awake sometimes,
wondering why you walk in black
wondering why red deserves you
wondering why you see the color blue
and god i cant understand it.
DriftwoodDriftwood3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
around the dawn
as if begging
for a favor,
so smooth and sharp
worn bare by August -
a mermaid's rib
rubs salt from sand,
the battering lilt of seagulls
against the summer sun.
Omnipresent 4Love-a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affectionOmnipresent 44 years ago in Romance More Like This
John awoke, warmer than he could remember being in a long time. Eyes still closed he realized the cause of this new found warmth was the body his arms were currently holding against his chest. The body was thinner than his and longer but surprisingly soft.
He smiled as the memories from the previous night came rolling back and opened his eyes to make sure it had not been a dream. Yes this was certainly not his room and if the mop of black curls in front of his face was any indication the person he was holding was most definitely not Sarah.
He sat up slowly so as not to wake Sherlock and ran a hand through his short blond hair. This was bad. What was he supposed to tell her? Sorry I didn't take you out last night I was too busy shagging my flatmate? I was going to take you out for Valentine's Day but I ended up going on a date with Sherlock instead?
"You're thinking too much." a voice behind him said.
CigaretteCigarette4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
It sits between his long digits snugly, almost too happily. Sherlock scowls at it, knowing what John would say if the neat little soldier could see him now. Probably throw a fit again, like the time he found that needle and jumped to the worst without a moment's consideration. As stupid as the others.
He brings it to his lips, hands almost shaking in anticipation as he caresses it and takes a long drag, letting the slithers move in unison down his spine. The oppressive weight, so constantly heavy, rolls away slowly with every shimmering particle of smoke that coils upwards blinking into the ether. He blows out a little at a time, letting the smoke whisper over his parted bottom lip and snake away expertly. It is an old habit.
Minutes pass. He reaches again for another, and then another, not caring about the empty carton that blows away on the crude wind or the ash that falls like snow into his lap. Legs barely registering their protests carry him to the filthy off-license around the co
ReverberationReverberationReverberation3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
In the night I run away from starlight
Its source, a space-leak
Of ultraviolet love
That once upon a time
Widened my pupils
Being the most addictive
Of all treacherous dope
Beneath ebony stars we were sitting
Looking for Orion's belt
He loosened and untied it
To make love with me
I was supposed to be his muse
Like an ancient goddess
But what we had was more of Divine comedy
As Sistine chapel for god is but a living room
One of so many, one of too many...
His soft lips cracked
Of thirst and he drank me
What more - he was getting drunk
Of a spirit not meant to be bottled
We both sank into quicksand running in spirals
And for each other we disappeared behind the mirror
A Fiddler's Apocalypse"Jeremy! Jeremy, aagh, don't lead them toward me!"A Fiddler's Apocalypse4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Sorry, sorry!" Jeremy yelled back, panting as he tried to focus on playing his fiddle and running backwards, away from the zombies who had begun to notice his music, at the same time.
"Ha! If you can't handle them, comrade, send them over here!" Alik cackled happily, aiming a tiny gun at a group of zombies who had begun to stagger towards Roy and blowing them all sky high with a single shot.
"Alik, stop being such a creep when we're trying to concentrate on not dying!" A new voice, this one feminine, shouted from behind Jeremy. A gunshot cracked from where the voice had originated from, and a zombie that had stumbled too close for Jeremy's comfort went down with a bullet to the head.
Jeremy looked around him and lowered his bow, wincing a little as his aching fingers uncurled from the strings. A slight, dark haired girl came up next to him, holding a still- smoking rifle in her hands and checking around them for any more zombie
APH: I hate everything about youI hate everything about you.APH: I hate everything about you3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I hate everything about you.
I hate your self-confidence.
I hate when you say you're an artist, so you need to be treated better.
I hate to see, how happy you can be without me.
I hate when you play games with me.
I hate when you say you don't need me.
I hate when you treat me like a little child.
I hate when you open your mouth just to say how awesome are you.
I hate your pride, your 'young-masterness', your stubbornness, your emotional way of living.
I hate that you never say anything nice to me.
I hate your music.
I hate that you always compare me to you.
I hate when you play the piano instead of talking to me.
I hate that I'm always worse than you.
I hate when you prefer your classical music collection than the song I write especially for you.
I hate when you make fun of me.
I hate that you can always see my mistakes, even if no one else can see them.
I hate to make you sad.
I hate yo
Detailed Character SheetBasic StatisticsDetailed Character Sheet6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Reason or meaning of name:
How'd they get it?:
Date of Birth:
When did they realize this?:Nationality:
For how long?:
Do they like his/her job?:
If they had an element, what would it be?:
Can they use it?:
What animal best represents them?:
When did they start learning?:Who taught them?:Weapons training:
When did they start learning?:Who taught them?:Physical strength:
Any significant ancestors?:
PromptsPrompt: I'm always the last to know...Prompts7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Prompt: The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Prompt: Why'd I have to figure it out on my own?
Prompt: A guy/girl like that.
Prompt: London, England.
Prompt: You always leave me...
Prompt: Do you love me?
Prompt: In the end...
Prompt: Where were you?
Prompt: I'm sorry.
Prompt: So ungrateful.
Prompt: I feel so foolish.
Prompt: We wasted so much time.
Prompt: Too far gone.
Prompt: We're so far apart...
Prompt: Is this a dream?
Prompt: White vs. Black.
Prompt: Fire vs. Ice.
Prompt: Just give me some time...
Prompt: Maybe tomorrow...
Prompt: You still awake?
Prompt: Please, don't take this from me.
Prompt: Last time.
Prompt: Forever and a day...
Prompt: You're never alone.
Prompt: Be careful what you wish for...
Prompt: Just for tonight...
Prompt: Are you afraid?
Prompt: Don't worry...
Prompt: Like I promised.
UntitledWords fall upon def ears known but unwanted.Untitled4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Death again knocked upon our door.
A year had flown by and our hearts were newly healed.
But to no avail as the words sunk in past the stitches,
Of our broken heart and ripped it wide open.
One word rings like a bell in my head,
Why? Why would you kill your self?
Then the pain the hurt slowly fades away,
Like the day fading into night.
All that is left to fell is numb,
With more question than answers.
The tears seem never ending,
It seems as though you may never heal.
But as the heart slowly heals again,
Stitches are place back in but sill there is a hole.
The numbness stays there at the back,
Lingering waiting for the chance to come back.
It never fades just is keep at bay,
For you have that one thing,
That thought in your mind,
To never give in and give up for nothing is worth that.
ContainedMany times I like to be bright, even in the colorless snow.Contained3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is welcoming,
With no fear of embarrassing or judgement.
But lately I have been trapped to do as you say.
I feel like a puppet on strings,
Buried, in a grave not meant for my shape.
I want to break free again, but I do not want you to hurt me.
Being captive of my own abilities, I'm not a demonstration.
I'm scared like of what fire does to plastic.
Love is keeping me trapped.
All is better when you force me to obey.
All is regretted when I walk away.
I am a contained flower surviving in a dead temperature.
Trying breath the air I have no money to pay for.
Accepting that this is what love has all to offer.
EPIC: Robin in the last battleThe wild cheering escalated to a thunder that made Robin dizzy. Grimly, she reflected that she'd fully anticipated dying at some point in this deranged venture, but she hadn't expected the exquisite grisliness of being presented with a ticket to the event. ("A souvenir for you!" the vendor had told her, beaming, when he'd dropped it off at her holding cell.)EPIC: Robin in the last battle4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Six hours and no breakfast later, she was standing on the raked sand of what could have been a sports arena if not for the huge metal gates locking her inescapably into the ring. She squinted into the sun and awkwardly adjusted the borrowed shield hanging on her arm. She was absolutely sure it wouldn't save her. Azarath's goons had helpfully returned her own sword to her for the day, but even its familiar weight couldn't settle her jangled nerves.
Part of the nervousness had to with exactly how familiar the sword was becoming in her hand. Robin was uncomfortably aware that she had what might be called a gift with it. There was a fe
PlaygroundPlayground3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All that autumn her ghost haunted the playground;
no wisping phantom, but strident bits and pieces
clamoring for attention - a pair of black patent
leather shoes waiting expectantly by the teeter-totter.
And Sister Teresa had to pry red woolen mittens
off the jungle gym every morning.
Jimmy Boyle kept seeing her sweater at the swings,
its green wooly arms daring him to go higher
and trying to tag him "it".
And her best friend, Jenny Black
could see the flash of her pigtails
throwing copper across the kickball field
where recess waited to swallow them.
The toys vanished from the sandbox every evening
leaving nothing but a soft trail of disappointment
in their wake -
their accusations of neglect
and longing crouched under the
maple trees, swarming with the bees.
But winter proved a discordant grave -
the protest of frozen ground
an errant melody in the schoolyard
and her shoes kept shrinking
and stumbled down the slide,
leaving a thick crust of frost
like somber tracks that said good-bye
No EscapeNo Escape3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tried pressing escape
Still Sitting here...
The Lost GenerationIs this existence of time worth my life?The Lost Generation3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To struggle through each day's heartache,
With all this stress and strife?
Nobody can answer this fundamental question,
How can we save the lost generation?
Is there meaning of conscious left for me?
To hurtle through every night's sickness,
Without any faith to be free?
Nobody will deny this radical emotion,
Where can we find the lost generation?
Is that suffocation of will ready to die?
To tussle through early morning's hunger,
Without the courage to cry?
Nobody shall crave this political flirtation,
Why can't we rescue the lost generation?
something as little"Do you sometimes think about humans and hurt," she says. She's rummaging in a crate on the cold floor of her garage, and her face is hidden. You shift to let the afternoon light shine on the golden wave of her hair.something as little3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Because I do," she goes on, before you can admit that you have no answer. Small objects fall from the crate and cascade to the floor with a clatter. "I do."
Her words hang heavy between you, alone and uncomfortable in the summer air, and your tongue stumbles in the strangeness of the moment and spits out, "Why?"
She bundles the long strands of her hair into a fist and straightens, her hands otherwise empty. "Humans are so frail," she says, leaving your question unanswered, drifting with her I do. "They're made of all this muscle and bone and stubbornness, and still you can cut them to the heart with something as little as words." Her eyes fix on yours.
"What do you mean," you say, struggling to keep up with her. "Why words."
She smiles and the force of it is
The DoctorThe doctor tutted, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh.The Doctor3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Honestly, we have next to nothing to work with these days." He murmured, grasping the girl's chin and pulling it upwards so he could look more clearly into her face. "Brown eyes, brown hair... too commonplace. What I wouldn't give for a honest-to-God natural blonde or a redhead. Everyone's getting sick of all the dyed products we've had to make. Ugh. Well, give this one some blue eyes. Keep the freckles; maybe they'll add something more natural to her."
The young man, eighteen at most, who had brought the girl into the room, nodded. He gently lifted the slender figure off the ground- the girl's head lolling against his shoulder as he did so- and to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her.
"Jude, I have too many appointments today to watch you take your time with this. Drag it if you must, but hurry."
Jude nodded again, keeping his head down so the good Doctor wouldn't see th
Dear deviantWRITERS...Dear deviantWRITERS, allow me to offer you some advice. While I realize that you may not want that advice at all, I will cheerfully ignore that, because I really think dA's literature community could use a bit of setting straight.Dear deviantWRITERS...5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The reason writers like you and me are on deviantART at all is because we want people to read our work. No one would argue with that. So the way you do things should help get people to read your writing, not flee screaming.
That being said, the preview image that dA gives each literature deviation is your best friend. It gives you about 110 characters of text to impress anyone who might be randomly browsing through lit deviations--to catch their eye and make them want to read more. So! Here's a few tips.
Before that, though: I am not saying that every reader on dA agrees with the suggestions I present here. These are things that I think are important, and that I recommend. This is conceited, maybe, but I believe that good readers would agree wit
Don't Let Go"Rich!"Don't Let Go3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There was nothing but silence around her. The air felt strangely...full. Oppressive, like it was pressing in on all sides, choking her. She could barely breathe.
"Rich! Oh God, oh God."
She didn't even recognize her own voice, it seemed foreign to her own ears. Each word spoken was muffled, drowned out by the heavy beat of her heart and her halting footsteps. Every step she took she had to struggle, pushing debris out of the way, sharp pieces of wood and metal scratching her legs as she walked. And she had been walking.
For so long.
She began to wonder if it was her hearing that was the problem, or if her voice was simply giving out. Her heart was growing louder every second. Every terrifying second.
Rich, Rich, oh please, please. Her throat was tearing itself apart, but she needed to find him. She wrapped her arms closer around herself. A piece of cracked, torn metal cut through her shoe and sliced into her foot. She fell. She braced hersel
SecretsPlastic, hard, green, distasteful bench,Secrets3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The tree above me is much more interesting.
The tree, creaking from age, leans over,
Brushes a soft petal against my cheek which twirls and dances
For me, eventually bowing at my feet.
The tree, still bent, waits for my attention before,
Excitedly tickling my ear, it whispers secrets only I can hear.
I close my eyes,
My hands politely folded
Fingers laced together in my lap,
And nod my head in answer.
It pauses a moment -
resounding footsteps pass before it whispers its last
I, eyes closed, lean toward the great tree and whisper back
Don't worry. I'm good at keeping secrets.