GalactusTo whomever finds me
I fear I have held something from you and from the galaxy, for many a year. As you all know I am the last of my kin and as I am approaching the end of my life, I feel it is appropriate to tell you the truth.
Back when I was Galan in the year 27π it was the morn of the seventeenth moon. I was no older than nine, a number which, said to represent satisfaction, brought only sorrow. The sun had set with a smooth sky yet there was a disconcerting air of the cavern. The only woman who ever loved me was resting peacefully, with child, upon the chaise longue, the fire kissing her toes with the sweetest crackling sound. The suns upper corona was casting its final rays, illuminating her tired face.
As her chest gently rose, a hoarse braying came from within the barn, followed by a consenting uproar from the other animals. I rushed out to tame the mounting pandemonium emanating from the farmyard. The barn doors had burst open. Shards lay across the drive. Ebbs soa
Just BreatheHe admits that some things still aren't quite right in regards to the incident that landed him comatose, but he's struggled to make the most of it. The bullet wound's entry-point scarred over nicely, leaving him a fine reminder of what had happened, and how he'd made his supposed final stand. He wore it like a trophy, even though it pained him at times.Just Breathe5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Of course it hurts physically when he perhaps takes a breath too deep, or laughs too hard; but that's ok, he can't say he really minds. It's not like he laughs that much anyway. It's a strong reminder that he's still alive, even though she has passed on. At least he hadn't died when he thought he ought to, for it had allowed him the opportunity to be there for her as she lay dying on the school roof. He may have forgotten all the events that had transpired before then, but he had remembered them in time to clutch her close in her final moments. As she slept herself away into that blissful oblivion, he told her how sorry he was for forge
AnchorAn anchor had five minutes in which to reorient themselves. One.Anchor4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I stared at the heavy steel loop around my thumb. My world was a sand castle, constructed by the subconscious in a vain hope that it would stand up on such a treacherous foundation. The ring was an unfamiliar weight and the foundation of my castle started to crumble. I did not remember it. The tide was ebbing in around my mind, whispering that my carefully imagined world was wrong. That it was lies. That the 'when' and the 'where' were pure fancy. I stirred in the nest of wires that poured information through my brain. There was a man with me, his bare back against mine. He, too, was lost.
An anchor's duty was to the pilot and the pilot alone. Not to their employer, not the guild, not even to themselves. Two.
There was an image engraved on the ring, a nautical anchor from the days when man sa
The FountainThere were sixteen tall windows. She'd counted them over and over when she was small, her chubby finger outstretched as she spun in tiny circles. Eight walls, sixteen windows, thirty-two black curtainsthe arithmetic of her childhood.The Fountain4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Eight window seats, Daddy. Eight buttons on eachsixty-four. I counted."
The fountain stood dry and dead-center in the middle of the black and white tiles. Eight sides, eight lion-mouth spouts. Sixteen limestone mermaids poised gracefully around the edge. Four thousand and ninety-six blue tiles. Five hundred and twelve white.
And two doors. Always the two doors, huge and solid and radiating a sense of looming disdain. The rough oak had bitten her hands and it bit them now, when she pressed her palms against it. The doors eased open like wings outstretching, coming to rest against stone doorstops.
Her boots clicked against the marble flooring as she advanced, each click reverberating through the silent room. A mute ghost of a man stood in
Redwall- Coming Home Winter over Mossflower wood had been remarkably harsh. Everything was white and cold, frozen in its place until Spring. The tree branches leaned low, heavily laden with snow and ice. There was a constant flurry of snow falling at all times.Redwall- Coming Home3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The weather had trapped the creatures of Redwall Abbey inside the red sandstone structure. The only ones allowed out were the biggest and strongest of creatures, and even then only rarely.
Presently, one of those with such privileged rights was outside, charging through the deep snow on the Abbey walls, attempting to survey the landscape.
Deyna the otter was a tall, strong riverdog. He'd been born at the Abbey, but as a babe had been stolen and taken to the Juskarath clan. After fifteen long seasons he returned home to the Abbey, and to his mother and older sister. Still, he had some habits hanging over him
The Small ThingsThe Small ThingsThe Small Things3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It had been several weeks since Hershel Layton's last "adventure," if one could call it that, and he was trying his best for things to get back to normal.
Some semblance of normalcy was really what he'd needed at the moment. An outpouring of condolences had come from his fellow staff as well as a large majority of the students at Gressenheller University. At first, it had only served to draw more attention to the ordeal, but he did appreciate the effort. He'd been asked if he needed time offNo, he'd insisted, he couldn't just retreat from his job any more than he already had just for some personal vacation. It would be quite unprofessional.
Instead, his office had been swamped with cards from his students and the other archeology professors, and Dean Delmona and Flora frequently came to visit him during his office hours. Layton had fallen into the routine of collecting a few cards that had been hanging on his door only for Flora to help him organize them,
Tale 2: Worlds in the AtticHe was very old by now. His long, white hair, uncut for fifteen years, was loosely spread all over the back of his coat. His shoulders were brought forward by age, his fingers weren't as deft as they had been. If there was one thing he was very happy for, it was that when he had started, he had used the higher shelves first. It meant he didn't have to climb steep, uncertain ladders all the time now.Tale 2: Worlds in the Attic5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There were hundreds, thousands of jars and bottles and little tin boxes neatly stacked on the shelves, hung from the ceiling by thin chains or ropes, some small and precious glass containers brought together by ropes hanging from the ceiling like clusters of grapes or braided into garlic-like strands.
The man had wanted to be a writer, or a sculptor, or a painter, or some other sort of artist that could show all the worlds that lived inside people. A long time ago, he had understood the fact that he had no talent. It didn't affect him now. He was content to be nothing else but a keeper of w
dives and lazarusthe last time i saw youdives and lazarus4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i made sure to
keep my dress
my distance as
we spoke from
across the room, land
the air discerning
" you don't have to be
about this "
i am raw, in the
and it became winter
in the summer streaked room
we bathed in,
your mattress bare
stains of hurt
and nights with other
in wild abandon, i left.
in fear of bearing your surname, i stayed.
Billy's PterodactylsBilly was in what his mother called 'his dinosaur phase'. He'd been firmly ensconced in this phase for the past six months, ever since his Dad had taken him to see the Natural History Museum in Oxford. The first thing he'd seen on entering was the huge bones of the Tyrannosaurus Rex glaring down at him, and that was it; he'd been hooked ever since.Billy's Pterodactyls4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In the time since then his entire room had been re-decorated with a Jurassic theme. Dinosaurs were on the bedsheets, the curtains, the posters on the walls, and little plastic ones covered his floor to the point where it was dangerous to walk across it. Unless you were Billy, of course. No dinosaur would dare to harm Billy, who reigned supreme among them and controlled their every move. Billy was in his element and entirely at home within his dinosaur-infested room.
Every now and then the dinosaurs would venture outside of Billy's room, in an effort to invade and infest the rest of Billy's house. On one such occasion his mother inadvertently
WaitingWaitingWaiting4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pale willow girls wait by the river, brides of the water,
Guppies swim through their veins, silver darts of bright pain.
Their names are hieroglyphs of mist, frost and rain.
They walk barefoot in the snow, leaving tracks so they know the way back,
A tracery of breadcrumbs that the ravens will never eat.
Twelve princesses slip underground,
Dance in slippers of tattered frayed silk,
Corkscrews of ribbon, stiff with blood and melted tallow.
They inject themselves with music until their eyes hum like bumble bees.
Then they sleepwalk through the day in a haze of yearning
For fierce wet stone beneath their frenzy of feet, of bones.
When they kiss they taste blood.
They taste honeyed tears.
The brides walk by blank storefronts, by scraps of words,
"Joe's Dry Cleaners", "Nick loves Alicia", "Please, oh please".
The town huddles waiting for checks, food stamps and jobs,
In a boarded up movie palace, the wood charred by some great fire
Black as the ravens that feed Elijah rice,
The Caper of the President's SealThe brown-haired girl enters my office and sits quietly, eyes darting around the room. My secretary looks at me over her head as she shows her in, face filled with curiosity.The Caper of the President's Seal4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Thank you, Marisa. Please hold my calls for the next hour." She blinks, but nods in the affirmative before heading back to her desk, closing the door behind her.
"Hello, Miss Sandiego," I say to the girl in front of me. She offers me a superficial smile, wan and wary.
"Hello, Chief." Undeterred, I try to continue the conversation.
"So, you won a huge prize on a game show a couple of years ago, right? It's A Wise Child, if I remember correctly." She nods, a perfunctory motion; she's either extremely nervous, or bored out of her mind. I have a sneaking suspicion it's the latter, but I'm stumped. I cough a bit and motion to the simple, brass candy dish on my desk. She offers another smile, small and condesce
Drive"You ready to go?"Drive3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's with sodden hands and soaked-through boots that he climbs into the back of the faded old pickup. Red paint's peeling off everywhere, but he barely cares. Bullet holes and scattershot clusters show every few feet, but he still loves his ride. Despite the shattered world and slightly shattered rear-view mirror, it still takes him places.
He's got a gruff voice; his baritone erupts from his throat like gunfire or gravel across a chipped highway. Torn rubber boots slosh in the highway's broken shoulder. A burning wind catches his hair, runs through his stubble and down his open shirt. Runoff from the road splashes his faded jeans.
His coat whips in the wind, green and patched more times than he can count on his fingers. At least he has all of them; staying intact is an odd bonus in his line of work. The tools of his trade click and shift in their holsters just above h
carbon monoxideIt had been Javiers idea for the tattoos. "It'll keep you safe, Diego. No one will touch you." On the streets, no one had touched Diego to begin with. In order for Javier to earn the tattoo, he had to steal. When he stole the teenager's purse, she screamed and only chased him for half a block before giving up, but Javier didn't stop running. Back at his friend's apartment, when they opened the Coach bag and dumped out the contents, besides lipstick and a compact mirror, the wallet held cash and credit cards, a little iPod with the headphone cords wrapped around it and most of all, a digital camera. It had been a lucky find, and they'd sold everything but left the camera to Javier, who would use it to take pictures of his brother.carbon monoxide5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Diego agreed. He agreed because Javier scared him at the best of times. "If you don't get this, you'll die, Diego. Someone will get mad and put a bullet in your head," Javier emphasized this, formed his hand and fingers in the shape of a gun and pressed his fi
Fine, Fine, FineFine, Fine, FineFine, Fine, Fine3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Nothing changed in the classroom when Maria Diaz went missing. It was as if she'd never been there, sitting in her spot in the corner where the teachers couldn't rescue her from the other kids. Whoever said words never hurt was a liar in denial. Maria would have preferred the sticks and the stones. A broken psyche doesn't mend as cleanly as bone.
"Yo, Clarissa, wake up." Before she could turn in the direction of his voice, Sam punted a paperclip right into her forehead.
"What was that for? I was totally awake already." She whined. Mrs. Benson wasn't even finished her lesson yet. The fat witch was still writing math equations on the blackboard, oblivious to everyone snickering about how her ass was so big it didn't even look connected to her back. Mrs. Benson was gross; math was stupid. Clarissa was bored. Typical school day.
Sam grinned that imperfect grin of his. He needed braces. "If anyone would have invented a way to see through their eyelids, I guess it'd b
saudadeLast week, you showed up with the thunder on my doorstep.saudade4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Your voice was so drenched with the rain that I almost didn't recognize the way you said my name. It hung in the air like an incomplete sentence, like something unfamiliar, like you were so lost from trying to find everything we left behind and piece it back together that you couldn't find me in your heart anymore. It was pouring and the power was out and I was so tired of watching the world fall apart from outside my windows that I let you back inside my arms and inside my senses, and your bones were shaking as you clung to me and told me how good it felt to come back home.
There was something forced in our actions, as if we were going through the motions of something we had practiced a hundred times before. Your lips were all orchestrated movements against mine and the arch of your back and shudder of your breath felt rehearsed, so that when you lay tangled and spent in my bedsheets I let my mouth wander the terrain of your sh
Retrograde Scents from inside the suit intertwined their intentions with the sights of tangled and tessellated hair illumed by firefly LED's, spiking my circulation with memories and murmurs of dopamine.Retrograde4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I took her by the gaze; she steered her sight away from mine. I led her through a glance that involved no scuffling of hands.
She was one of two wayward strangers passing in the cosmos; two separate glances met as objects in motion tending to motion. People aren't the same however.
Drifter was the term we were known as, people cast off of vessels and ships, mostly by accident, condemned to trudge about the universe until starvation kicked in or their oxygen-starved filters were finally incapable of operating. My unplanned departure from the mysteriously flaming
Undressing PoetryShe clothes herself in poetry,Undressing Poetry3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A single flawless line remained
between the cloak of poetry, her and me,
so we spoke the words in unison,
revealing everything and setting her verse free.
Creationism She took the clay into her hands and rolled it around. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could feel the imperfections in the little sphere, but she would never think to smooth them out. It was the little things that gave each of her creations character.Creationism4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This particular ball gave way to spiky tips and deep depressions. She held it up and blew on it to speed its drying. When it was ready, she brought out the paints. The low parts became blue and fluid, and the spiky places turned gray. But she didn't stop there. The in between places were painted green and brown, and she came away a little and painted white puffy shapes. And then she waited.
For a long time, nothing happened. Then there was movement, but still she was disappointed. This one didn't glow the way some of her creations did. She moved in for a closer look at the globe. Perhaps she could figure out what had gone wrong.
One Day I Shall Lay Down And Dieone day i shall lay down and dieOne Day I Shall Lay Down And Die3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and so for now here is my kiss, my golden-ness,
my forehead pressed against yours
like two strange animals lost on a plain of
red sand. one day i shall lay down and die so
now here, let these birds pick me apart,
show you it all, the torn underwear
and the girl gazing at the soft glow
on trees, the ferocious lion-love
weeping under the kitchen table. one day
i shall lay down and die
so for now i feast on beaches, your breath,
the flutter of my dress sore against my skin
someday i will find that peace,
plant a spring-flower deep in my heart, land one last cool kiss
on the bow of your mouth and slip away, i know that one day
i will lay down and die but for now
feel your fingers spread across my heart,
feel my roar in the night
The Dalzell KnockoutThe Banana Bar wasn’t Conner Dalzell’s sort of place. I was behind it slicing lemons, wincing at acid burns, when he walked in alone in a buff duffel coat. The guy was at least fifty, maybe older, his hair turning white.The Dalzell Knockout4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Tonight was student night, all the cocktails were half price, and fresher girls were getting fresh with lecherous finalists in the faux-leather booths. Conner Dalzell stood in the doorway for half a minute and I thought he would leave. But he took off his coat and searched for a peg to hang it on. To his evident surprise, he didn't find one, so he flung it over his elbow and waddled to the bar.
“What would you recommend then?” he asked. My hands were sticky with lemon juice. I hastily wiped them on my apron.
“Our featured cocktail today is the Blue Lagoon Special: vodka, blue curacao, and white wine.”
“Sounds awful,” he said, slipping from the barstool he’d tried to mount. “What’s blue
The Stellar Void"Can you kill me, please?"The Stellar Void5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I must have looked startled because her expectant gaze saddened a bit.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"Can you kill me?" Her face brightened as she repeated the morbid probe.
Confused, I couldn't help but notice her rather familiar clothes. Faded pink jeans, knock-off Converse shoes. Little black hoodie with a torn right sleeve.
"You just looked a bit angry and I figured you'd be the best person to ask."
I stood next to the bench. My backpack dug into my shoulder and I shrugged it off. It'd be awhile before the next bus came anyway.
She looked down the street. The dim lights barely revealed the closed shops and leaf strewn sidewalks. A short breeze caused the dead landscaping out front to rustle gently but now, it seemed slightly ominous.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Her voice was hollow and even though she was turned away, I could sense the hint of disappointment.
Sighing, I sat on the other side of the bench. Pausing for a minute, I glanced up at the mos
GravityShe grinned at him. Dragons ravaged their livestock, Vikings bled and bellowed, and still she could smile. Blood stained the cracks of her teeth and her skin glistered in the firelight, smudged and cracked, but she was every bit as beautiful to him as the day she stood fresh and flower-scented at their wedding.Gravity3 years ago in Drama More Like This
It was more than her smile that drew Stoick towards Valhallarama, even as battle blistered around him. He felt compelled to check in on her with every break between conflicts. He needed proof that he still had her. An irrational tenancy to indulge in battle, but one she tolerated.
"Yeh alright?" Stoick asked. They were always the first words from his mouth, even when he knew her answer.
Valhallarama wiped the sweat from her upper lip with the back of her hand and thumped her fist against her chest as if to prove her sturdiness. Her hair was pulled from her braids in several, dirty tresses and she sporte
Radioactive AutumnRadioactive AutumnRadioactive Autumn6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Draped in maple leaves and white gold,
her somber eyes hidden from the mounting ash.
Lack of contact labors a mutual threshold,
restless desires bred amongst odious machinations.
Staid throat drunk on her ambrosial sap,
more reverie to dirty all our neurons one by one.
Guttural cries rattle through shared visions,
depicted in blossoms and ignoring the damage done.
Avengers: In MemoriamIn MemoriamAvengers: In Memoriam3 years ago in Drama More Like This
in memoriam, a Latin phrase that translates directly as 'in memory of'"Did you mourn?"
"We all did."They all mourn. Just in different ways.
There is a bloodstain on the wall.
None of them ever mention it or show any sign of letting it dwell in their thoughts, but Fury has noticedwith his 'good eye' as Stark likes to refer to it asthat there are a few rare moments just before a mission when they can be found gathered around the mark they refuse to let anyone clean away, and one or two of them at a time can be found giving it more than just a passing glance as they wander by it, fingers outstretched and tips barely brushing the surface.
The stain marks more than another casualty of battleit is a moment of triumph, of death; it is where, separate as they were, they became a team, where they found something (no, someone) to avenge. It is where they go on their own to collect their thoughts, looking into the empty void before them (th
Green Lantern TAS - AlterationsThe room was dimly lit, as it often was, the only light cast by a small lamp on the nearby desk. Razer often preferred to keep it that way, the door shut to keep out the light from the areas beyond so that he could enjoy a little peace and quiet. His quarters were his hideaway from the brightly lit consoles of the Interceptor's bridge and the chatter of his crew mates. That evening, however, there was a new source of dim illumination within the room.Green Lantern TAS - Alterations3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Razer sat on his bed, his back against the wall. The weight in his lap was a familiar one, the softly glowing blue eyes that looked back into his carrying just a hint of curiosity. It had really been quite the journey for them both over the last few months, Razer only starting to come to grips with his feelings for Aya when a Star Sapphire portal was able to transport him across the galaxy to her side. Yet even then he had continued to hide away his feelings, uncertain as to