tears don't drown your sorrowlost one,tears don't drown your sorrow4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Why do you always seem so sad? Your eyes are deep cerulean swirls of the sea, calm on the surface but fatal underneath with endless anfractuosities. Crestfallen rivers find their way down your cheeks and fall like raindrops on your cold hands.
If you were a song you would be the most broken and desolate winter nocturne in solo. You would be the beautiful heartbreaking tune of the violinist in the park, leaning down to close his old case full of coins.
You said you could play the piano for hours, from sunrise to sunset and into the quiescent night, but I know your slender fingers always remain the same temperature---below zero. And sometimes, your heartbeat is so silent and your eyes so icy blue I could almost see the snowflakes waltzing in them, an endless snowstorm. What happened to your passion?
When the show is over, the stage swept sterile and the actors all gone home to live in the monstrous truth, you sit in the dark and hear the walls breathing, and the whisper war in
gateway"am i dead??"gateway2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"oh, hey! that wasn't so bad, was it? your wife and kids are over there waiting for you."
"oh my God."
ThoughtsSadness is a lot more common in Heaven than people think. Generally, the higher up the ranks you go, the more of it you'll find.Thoughts4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the Archangel Raphael
When You think of Me - A letter to HerThe season that finds you will not matter. Whether you shiver in winter colds or stretch your toes under the cherries of June, your breath should be easy.When You think of Me - A letter to Her5 months ago in Letters More Like This
No matter the season, your body should always mimic the birth of spring or the fires of summer. Your skin should glow brighter when my image appears behind your bright eyes.
You should remember the way a great muse meditates, for that is what you are. You should feel your chest letting go, like it does when you grace the sidewalk under linden trees. Your frail rib cage should expand slowly, to let your soul wander free, as it never was before. Don’t worry, your soul will find its way out and back again when your thoughts of me are done. Do not be troubled if it leaves for too long. However long it stays afloat, that’s how it should be. Your soul knows the measure of being in love beyond what you and I know - about us and about each other.
Your arms might fall to the side, your legs might feel brittle and your lips might p
twin flamesI dream of us, and the dream hurts with an almost-pain, one that can barely be recalled. It’s like blindly running a fingertip over a forearm dappled with bruises, and hitting a sharp spot here and there.twin flames3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The dream is a red and smoky room. It’s the smell of wet suede and lipstick over toothpaste. Girls dance slowly as though their limbs are drifting in thick syrup, and we watch them but only see each other. There is a mirror behind our heads, and icy drinking glasses on the table in front with whole glacé cherries on the stems. Candied maraschino. We pluck them free with our puckered lips and the fruits burst full of liquor, burning the edges of our tongues.
Our tongues are two halves of a mahogany bascule bridge, and we must join them together for safety, but now the fire claws its fingers up into our mouths, dragging its raging body with determination behind it.
The burning bridge twists like a mirage and disappears into a tunnel, darker than the static pupil of
Chrissy and PaulChrissy and Paul4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Shit," Chrissy mumbled under her breath, bending down to pick up the shattered pieces of the flask. "That's the second one. What's with me today?"
Chrissy looked around her small lab and sighed, suddenly regretting having chosen such a drab color for the walls. She'd been surprised the boys had let her paint them in the first place. The boys being her landlords: John, Paul, George, and Ringo. They were in a rock and roll band and were beginning to become quite popular. Chrissy scoffed to herself, wondering why she even bothered to pay rent if they were getting so much money coming in. Then again, the boys didn't really press her for and funds, mainly because they knew that though she was brilliant, she wasn't bringing in very much of an income. Not on what she had invented, anyway. She'd been working on a teleporter in the form of a phone-booth, but seeing as phone-booths were public property and not easy to come by, she'd hit a few bumps in that road. Paul had simply suggested she us
I am not my illness. I am not my illness.I am not my illness.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I've had depression for three years, and I used to hate the way my illness had changed me. I thought I could never be the girl I used to be. But my psychologist helped me to see that my illness can never change the inner me. In the end, I will have changed I will be stronger for this battle but my central values and the things that make me 'me' will always remain the same.
I am not my illness.
I have schizophrenia. People call me crazy, and avoid me, because I hear voices and talk to them. Maybe I am crazy sometimes, when I have an episode. But I'm not always crazy. I may be schizophrenic, but schizophrenic is not all I am.
I am not my illness.
The girls at school all tease me because I always stutter when I talk, and sometimes I try to speak but my mouth can't form the words. They call me retarded, dumb. I've never really had any real friends, all because I have autis
Burning Sometimes I want to just lie down and cry. Just cry and cry until there's nothing left inside me. No thoughts, no pain, nothing but the slow beat of my heart as it reminds me that I have to go on living. That when I get up there will be a new day that will bring a new wave of pain to my heart. I want to hate you for what you do to me, but how can I? How can I hate you for not being as deluded as I am? How can I hate you when it's me with this problem, this burning need to be loved by you? I can't, it wouldn't be fair. Hating you would be impossible anyway, because I love you too much.Burning4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I ask myself all the time what's wrong with me, what could be stopping you from loving me. I have a list as long as my arm, and it should at least stop me from fantasising about a life with you, but it fails every time. I find myself wanting you more and more each day, and dying inside when you make it clear that it'll never happen. How did I let myself get this far? How
Roleplay: Luna's Tiny TroubleBy schoolfilmer and suikerdiamantRoleplay: Luna's Tiny Trouble5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Note: When a character is talking with a squeaky voice after they have shrunk, the text is in Italics.
(Stella is in the practice field, where Stella and Luna can practice on newly gained spells. Right now, Stella got "Star Shrinker", and Luna got "Lunar Shrinker". That's right, they share some of the spells they get.)
Stella: Look at that, I'm making progress! Just a few more of those, and I'm all ready!
(Luna enters abruptly, scaring Stella so she flings a Shrinking Star spell at her)
Luna: Whoa! (Shrinks to a very tiny size)
Stella: Oh my... Luna, are you OK?
Luna: Yes, but what did you do to me?!
Stella: I must have shrunk you by accident...
Luna: So I'm tiny, you said? Turn me back to normal at once!
Stella: Sorry sis, you have to wait 24 hours, and then you'll grow back to your normal size.
Luna: I have to wait for a day fo
Silencio"¡Pero no dije nada!"Silencio3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Diary of a Madman July 30thDiary of a Madman July 30th5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
July 30, 1988
Today is my birthday and my loving husband bought me a wonderful gift - you. I guess after we found all of my old diaries stored in the attic, he knew I would love to have a new one. So today I am overjoyed to have such a loving husband. By the way, Diary, his name is Kurt. We have been married for 3 years and we have never been happier.
Kurt couldn't get out from work early, or so that is what he told me. He wants me to meet him at my favorite restaurant tonight. Of course, it's a surprise party. It's more than obvious; but I'm still wondering who will be there. Sally and Steve, for sure. Maybe the Carlsons will be there? Maybe my parents? I'm so excited this morning I woke up and he had this beautiful dress hanging on the door with a note. That said how much he loved me and
I killed another woman today. She was very pretty, Diary. She looked almost like Sarah. She had the same long brown hair and slim figure. I really miss Sarah.
barnes and nobleshe said she wants to lose her virginity at a barnes and noble.barnes and noble4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it makes me feel so comfortable to be there, she said. the books, the pages, the people - all engrossed in print and words and new worlds, all like me.
she said, i want to make love in the fiction aisle. she paused. right between the palahniuk and plath, that's where i was this morning, i was reading the back covers of everything beautiful and thinking of you lying on top of me on the floor, and making something beautiful ourselves.
i want silence and intimacy, she said, i want bookstores. i want to be surrounded by book-bindings and straight spines with flat pages.
she said, at a bookstore, i can talk to anybody. i can be anybody. and i can know everyone by the pages they turn, and they can know me.
she said, it's beautiful.
she said, i can't write like you.
she said, i want to make something beautiful, too.
she said, let's do something to get us in the pages of a novel.
she said, i want to make love in a barnes and noble
My Heavily Caffeinated Heart 4My Heavily Caffeinated Heart 44 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My Heavily Caffeinated Heart
Macchiato Part 2
The coloured lights pulsed and reflected off every surface, every cocktail and every bottle showcased in the shelving behind the bar. The sweaty throng of dancers flocked together, twisting their bodies to the rhythmic shapes of the music in the humid air. They worshipped the DJ, elevated on his podium. They were his disciples and we would join in their cause.
"What do you reckon?" I raised my voice to ask Chris.
"Seems alright but I want a drink." He responded and turned to the bar
"Nah, no, no, get out there and scout the war zone. I'll get the drinks."
Chris raised his blonde eyebrows once, glanced towards the bar longingly and then finally spun on his heels and trudged towards the dance floor. I swaggered up to the bench, looking around at the other people eagerly awaiting service. I ordered two beers for Chris and myself. Turning abruptly, I accidentally knocked the arm of a dark haired guy who was carrying three drinks, causin
a heavy chest of dying treasuresI found the place where she died the first time (they say we all die twice).a heavy chest of dying treasures6 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were no ropes or razors or jewels of blood but I know she died there, because the apples were all mourning. I went to gather her belongings from the house and everything looked so normal at first. I don’t know what I expected. Suicide notes scrawled on the walls despite them saying she hadn’t left any, cracked light bulbs; the glass shattered like her heart, split-seamed cushions to match her broken veins, pools of tears in the ashtrays? I didn’t know this was what I expected until I noticed their glaring absence. My god someone had even bleached the toilet recently. Was it her? Did she look at the bleach and consider drinking it? I wanted to tell myself there was a smell of despair. That I found a single strand of her hair and cried over it. That the cushions still had the imprints of her elbows in them and the saucepan handles were still warm from her touch. But there was no sign of h
Wizard of OzWomen fighting over red shoes -- predictable.Wizard of Oz4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Wishlist of a working morningI want to drink myself to inspiration.Wishlist of a working morning4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
To obseve quietly the flow of time during the day,
The rivers of emotions passing down the street,
The abundance of reasons flooding the air,
The small drops of repentance dripping from the hearts,
The darkness of hatred clouding up the mind,
The smog of regret chocking freedom.
I want to see sound and hear colors
("Then take LSD" says a small voice in the head)
I want to feel the suffering of others to cleanse my own,
I want to bask in the love of those around me so I could feel excitement once more,
I want to cause anguish so I can hide my guilt and burden away,
I want to close my eyes and sleep and die so I could be delivered from this,
The darkness that fills me up inside with each passing second.
SentidosUna cara melancolica en medio de la noche... el humo agudiza los sentidos, y hace que todo sea mas claro. Los sonidos inundan el lugar como las olas del mar en un estuario. Tu voz resuena en mi cabeza como una vieja cancion de un vinilo, o como los parlamentos de un actor en el teatro. Incluso con todo el movimiento que hay a mi alrededor me siento abandonado, en mi cueva, en la cumbre de una montaña a la que nadie se atreve a escalar. El latido incesante de mi corazon, como las manecillas de un reloj marcan un compas distinto a los demas. Ese calor que emana tu cuerpo ahora me hace falta en este frio lugar. Las luces de la ciudad son como estrellas, falsas estrellas que los hombres han creado para engañarse, y hacerse creer que estan en los cielos. De ese lugar tan lejano, a veces calido, a veces frio y oscuro solo extraño una cosa. Tu rostro como el sol, que hasta en mis noches mas oscuras podia guiar mi caminar, ahora es solo un recuerdo mientras recorro las desoladasSentidos4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
SuySuy5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
In that last twinkle of life, that indefinite wrinkle that clouds our senses turns us into saints. And, as a sinner, all I can hope for is youth.
As the hour glass turns inside out I'll stand there laughing at that stupid reflection.
Feckless, but not forlorn I can already smell it fading...
Fading into the singularity of the great nothingness I feared, it becomes silly and I become more and more fond of it.
I know what you'll mean when I can stop listening.
Just stop talking and you'll know too.
"Lucruri" care ardÎn total eram şase. Cutiuţa în care ne aflam eram mucegăită şi umedă. Ai deschis-o cu degetele tale tocite de la toate inimile pe care le-ai atins. Ne-ai privit şi m-ai ales pe mine."Lucruri" care ard4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Prima dată când m-ai aprins a fost magic. Nu ştiam că ceva, aparent atât de simplu, în mâinile potrivite poate deveni ceva atât de frumos. Ai continuat să mă aprinzi de nenumărate ori doar ca să mă priveşti cum ard. Fără să fac lumină, fără să te încălzesc, fără ca măcar să-ţi aprind ţigara. Nu-ţi foloseam la nimic şi cu toate astea, datorită ţie, puteam să strălucesc. Şi de fiecare dată încercam să o fac şi mai tare, şi mai viu, şi mai fierbinte, şi mai roşu. Ştiam că la un moment dat lumina mea se va sfârşi, dar am continuat
100,000,000.i am telling him the same things i told you and you know it and i am writing the same story over and over again and maybe i am: the same story over and over and over again, i am: a hundred million equilateral triangles stitched together of: the same feelings, the same promises, the same words and the same regrets.100,000,000.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
different boy, same unsatisfying ending. is it just around the corner?
i am telling you that i am giving in. because i want to. but i realize that there is really no way to give in gracefully. no way to compromise with poise, especially in your eyes. i am: falling and it's hard to say when i'll stop. will i stop before i hit the bottom? i am: a mirror, the only honest look at yourself, and i am: about to smash into a hundred million fragmented triangles of you.
you are the exception to my rule. we never had an ending.
i am telling jason nothing from now on. because with him, i am honest, i am: an open book for him to read and judge and i am: old and worn out and crying for at
i can't see the sky.i hate the word lonely.i can't see the sky.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
it dries out my mouth like i had tried to swallow tumbleweeds, it scratches the back of my throat like i'm trying to regurgitate memories from an empty stomach. it leaves me sitting in the middle of an empty room and wishing the ceiling would cave in because then at least i'd be able to watch the stars.
instead i'm just laying on top of the covers pretending to count them in the drywall and imagining what it would feel like to have your arm behind the curve in my neck. instead i'm closing my eyes and listening to the suction in my veins because i am hollow and caving in. i keep painting you with rich, lush adjectives, but you're just a cardboard pipe dream that falls flat and leaveleaveleaves me without air.
i keep spending my nights sketching your eyes on the ceiling, but i still can't see the moon.
and you know, i keep my hands busy during the day to ignore the faint shaking they do when i know they want to be holding yours. i keep my mouth talking to ignore t
Top 10: Predictions for 2009Top 10 Predictions for 2009Top 10: Predictions for 20096 years ago in Humor More Like This
10. US Dollar collapses, new Skittles-based economy implemented.
9. DeviantArt and Google merge. Entire world embraces dA as a new paradigm for peace and love, and art appreciation soars. Wars cease and defense budgets are instead diverted to the act of creation, not destruction.
Literature community is still ignored.
8. Honda introduces new plasma-powered hybrid car, solving both homeless and energy crises simultaneously.
7. Apple's next gen iPhone released. Weighs 4 pounds, has a full-sized keyboard, 14" LCD panel, and a lid that closes. People stand in line and pay $6000 USD to own one.
6. Time travelling Abe Lincoln shows up at President Obama's inauguration and delivers high-fives to everyone.
5. Britanny Spear's career continues to emit enormous sucking sound.
4. Vast new reserves of oil are located on the moon. First interplanetary war begins as BP and Chevron fight
the weeds across the street.Shes the little girl with flaxen curls at four pm flouncing down her driveway with her hands buried in her pockets, lips pressed out like shes whistling. Youll watch her out your window, with your tea lukewarm on the sill, and splutter a cough; fogging up the glass just enough to miss her smile.the weeds across the street.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
You saw her once, twice eating petals off the roses in your garden. Youve forgotten how to converse with children, you cussed between the wheezing and she stared right past like you were simply a knurled twig catching the wind in its leaves.
One morning you found her; purple stockings, blush mittens and a head of sunlight curls- asleep with your cat, Ginger, in your backyard. Her face was lost in the fur and repose and she slept soundly as you cut through her curls, knife icy in your recycled paper fingers. You tied a ribbon around the hair and sewed it in to your next doll. You named her Lucy and stitched a red heart into her chest. At nighttime the beating is so loud y