LookingLooking11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
LOOKING WHERE I DAREN'T, SEEING WHAT I MUST
At least everything had been cleared out of the room by then.
All the forensic equipment and the evidence markers and the yellow tape, all the police and the government agents and the reporters—oh, the reporters and the endless questions they'd asked about everything in the room.
The room was silent, now, a dead chamber full of books and curiosities, statuary and bricabrac. Full of things but completely devoid of sound, of movement, of life.
The lighting remained the same, the colours, the textures, the smells. The lamps still glowed, the soft blue light still diffused from the huge tank of water that dominated one wall. The windows still admitted muted sunlight, the kind you found in old bookstores and antique shops. A warmth remained there, but it was distant, the warmth of something that had sat in the sun and had only just been brought into darkness. The scent of old things, the scent of time and dust and books, of wisdom
I get so mad. . . .I get so mad. . . .10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I get mad
when I write my name,
and I know how it should look,
but it looks wrong.
My father says writing isn't easy.
I just get mad.
The Future of DeviantART?The Future of DeviantART?11 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Over the course of the last 23 months as a deviant, I've seen some things that most others never get the chance to, and I've seen the highs and lows of the community. I've seen the transfer from version to version with the each new August; I've seen what it's like to be a deviant; I've seen what it's like to wear the staff hat as well; I've even seen being banned. But, I ask you this: Why am I still here? What makes me keep coming back here, and supporting this place so strongly? What it is I'm yet to find properly and define, but I know for sure, it's slowly dwindling away, fading into the distant memories of better times when deviantART was simply the best website around without the slightest shadow of a doubt. No'urdays, community seems to be taking a backseat to the corporate ventures the site seems to be undertaking at an exponentially quick rate. With every passing day, a new move towards turning dA into exactly what it is not: a corporation.
When it was founded in 2000, t
The Official Ode to the ForumsThe Official Ode to the Forums11 years ago in Ballad More Like This
I can't stand to see another thread,
beating a horse that's already dead.
Do you like "s3ks" and what does art mean?
A poorhorse cult for illiterate teens.
The forum descriptions must be Greek,
or maybe the newbies only read 1337.
The Welcome Center to get a tour.
Thumbshare Forum for commentwhores.
'Deviator' no longer exists
(The Forum's still there 'cause jark insists)
Don't post there- it's useless you know
Read the thread that tells you so.
Elite ForumWhores: they're better than you.
Accept it now you know it's true;
If you see a lot of the Blank Stare guy
stupidity is the reason why.
For those with a brain that can't be found
watch out for curran if he's around.
With legendary wit and sarcastic replies
he cleans up the forums (or at least he tries).
We interupt this poem to distinguish
that "kewl" and "k@wa1i!!1!1" are not English.
If those are in your vocabulary
please buy yourself a dictionary.
Do you think you are a squirrel
instead of a normal boy or girl?
Dear TeddyTeddy, I've been bad againDear Teddy7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My mommy told me so
I'm not quite sure what I did wrong
But I thought that you might know
When I woke up this morning
I knew that she was mad
Cause she was crying awful hard
And yelling at my dad
I tried my best to be real good
and do just what she said
I cleaned my room all by myself
I even made my bed
But I spilled milk on my good shirt
When she yelled at me to hurry
And I guess she didn't hear me
When I told her I was sorry
Because she hit me awful hard, you see
and called me funny names
and told me I was really bad
and I should be ashamed
When I said, I love you Mommy
I guess she didn't understand
Cause she yelled at me to shut my mouth
or I'd get smacked again
So I came here to talk to you
Please tell me what to do
"Cause I really love my mommy
and I know she loves me too
And I don't think my mommy means
To hit me so hard
I guess somtimes, grown ups forget
How really big they are
So Teddy, I wish you were real
and you weren't just a bear
Then you could h
Ghostly ChildGhostly Child9 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
It couldn’t have been a more beautiful night to walk among the stars.
Vivi and Lewis were out on one of their nightly strolls, the air beneath their feet just another walking surface to them, as the world below them continued to move on without them. Lewis had taken one of Vivi’s arms into his, his back straight as his built chest was puffed out like a proud ghost should be.
Vivi walked next to him, dressed in a dark-blue trench coat and silky gloves for the somewhat chilly night, her hair pulled back into a small ponytail, as silver skulls dangled from her earlobes. Her eyes were closed in thought at the moment, a warm, comforting smile holding her lips together to create a tranquil face for the lovely lady of the mansion.
It had been 3 years since the two were officially wed, as official as it could get for a ghost and a human, and since then the two had lovingly lived in Lewis’ mansion. Arthur, who was welcomed with open arms to join them, had held off from staying
Ever Beating Chapter 23Ever Beating Chapter 2310 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
Slowly but surely, Lewis felt himself starting to come to in the midst of his coffin. He opened his eyes, staring at the black lid of his light-devoid sleeping quarters. Man, what a dream. He’d have to tell Amethyst about it and-
Memories soon flooded into his skull, remembering the fight Vivi and him had, almost killing Arthur, leaving for the caves, destroying Jett, the fight… He frowned in his mind, feeling very sorrowful at the moment for Amethyst. What did she mean by her words? Was she really…? Lewis shook his skull, having to sort that out later.
Right now he had to get some answers. Namely, how long he had been out. With that in mind Lewis put his hands on his coffin lid, pushing it open as light streaked in.
He hesitated for a second before sliding the lid back, floating a few steps out and into a new room. It looked like a cheap motel room, with luggage, clothing and tools strewn aside everywhere. A closed window was next to his propped up
Mr Rutabaga's Clockwork MinceOh what a thing you are! I am one too. So, incidentally, is Mr Rutabaga, the third thing we've come across in as many sentences. Mr Rutabaga lives in Cardiff and grows things in buckets, for he cannot afford pots.Mr Rutabaga's Clockwork Mince9 years ago in Humor More Like This
He has recently planted some Nazis, but the results have so far been futile beyond belief. He is a young woman, plastic cups taped to her arms (for feathers are hard to come by), leaping and flapping and flapping and leaping. She will touch the clouds only in her dreams, and even then with gloves on.
After one such afternoon spent leaping off makeshift ramps and toying with the notion of using polystyrene cups instead of the conventional plastic ones, the young woman comes home to an uninviting meal of toast and mandarins, cold from the tin. She scrapes the toast off her plate into her cat's water bowl and climbs into her hammock for another desperate dream.
Thirty days of futile watering later, Mr Rutabaga has still to see even the peak of a cap sprout from any of
The Lyrebird and Writing DeskThe Lyrebird and Writing DeskThe Lyrebird and Writing Desk10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is a frightening lung,
a not-quite-natural red swell beneath feathers,
that grates like a shaken sack of nails.
This bird is a chameleon
of voices, modulating its shriek
to whatever frequent note might rise
through the trees. Today
its cry has become the gargle
of splinters and split wood:
the chainsaw's growling melody.
In my own climate, adapting
to the shift of pages and their stains,
my voice strains; I almost crow.
Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.Perspectives of a Hallucino...7 years ago in Open More Like This
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.
__. I'm sorry__. I'm sorry11 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
TimeTime6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time ebbs, leaving the past behind,
as the falling tide leaves an empty beach.
Only our crumbling relics remain,
those moments, now sea-changed, when hope
and intention might have coalesced.
Or should I change
the metaphor? Time is a ravening demon,
it swallows all in its indifferently rapacious
maw. It leaves no trace
of images and dreams once close encased
in the brittle, discarded skull.
Time has fullness, when its harvests
are ripe, yet always plenty decays,
the mighty sun gutters, all that
remains is endless night.
Poseidon's GracePoseidon's Grace7 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
“Evacuate the ship!”
“Women and children first!”
“Hurry, before we’re all impaled!”
Metal doors slammed open as people scurried to the nearest exits. What once was a pleasurable cruise had twisted into a nightmare, the night sky blotted out by thunderous dark clouds, stinging rain and fierce lightning. One of the electrifying bolts had struck the small cruise-line, knocking out the main controls to steer the ship. Now the vessel that carried at least a few hundred passengers threatened to crash into a gathering of jutted rocks, a horrible end to them all.
One of the mechanics who worked on the lower floors sprinted her way through the halls. Her black hair wiped behind her in its small pony tail, a few streaks of her hair a bright orange as her brown eyes were set on the end of the hall. It left her nauseous to think that such a sturdy ship would be abandoned so quickly, but there was no time to try and fix what had been short-circuited. It was
How to write an exciting blog1How to write an exciting blog110 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
How to write an exciting blog in 10 easy steps!
1: Live an exciting life and write about that. If you don't have a great life, make up stuff you COULD have done during the day.
2: Update atleast once per day. You don't get those all important pageviews if people don't come back every day.
3: Provoke your readers. Politics is a great way to do that. If you live in the US; write about why you support Bin Laden. If you live anywhere else; write about why you support Bush. If that fails you can pretend to have homophobia, hate _all_ animals, be a racist or become a nazi.
4: Tell about your sexlife. If you don't have one, make one up. The more sexpartners, the better.
5: Write horrible things about your friends, family and coworkers. Don't leave anything out!
6: Take and post a lot of pictures, often. Clothes are no good, try to aviod those. If you don't own a camera you should steal other peoples pictures. You should atleast get a webcam to show off yourself, and your cat/dog/whatev
nova smilenova smile11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
6am: Rising to crackled reception,
this, the mimicked serenade to sunrise,
performed the whole world over.
8am: In the kitchen,
and a coffee cup
invite me to breakfast.
I count morning on both hands,
four espresso ribbons,
draped over the pages,
filling where ink cannot.
12pm: I lie on the small square of grass
looking up into the apex of cerulean.
Up on the gutter,
sits a bird, still,
below thick down,
ticks suck out birdsong.
one of quiet tragedy.
3pm: In the supermarket
I watch people stocking up,
A Crab Eyeing A TouristA Crab Eyeing A Tourist9 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Find out what you are,
Where you are headed.
Find your own moon and land on it.
A chair scraped across a vinyl floor and made an embarrassing sound.
"My name is Alex and I have a problem."
Someone waved their hands. "Does this problem involve an actual child actually being raped?"
Alex thought about this. "No," he decided.
"Then continue," the group leader said, bowing her head.
"But this child who was definitely not raped, and not by me, his name was Thomas."
All around the circle, a gentle ripple of applause broke out.
"Thank you, Alex," smiled the group leader, "that was very brave. You can sit down."
Alex sat, being careful not to make the chair scrape this time. Next to the group leader, a man nervously raised his hand and said, "Erm, if I may, can I ask, uh, a question. A question to Alex."
"N-" said the leader.
"Sure," said Alex, smiling, "I think we should be totally open. After all, anything I have to hide must be illegal, right?"
The group leader smiled falsely and