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It seems enough because it is.Same always seems different and different's never the same anymore.It seems enough because it is.5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Why can't I go back to those days, those faraway days, when worries were little and every new thing we learned about the outside world was magical?
Why has the world lost that spark that it once had, why does it seem a lot bigger and yet a lot smaller? I'm not so far from my childhood days to have forgotten the wonder that the stars held, but I'm far enough to the point that the sky seems just a little bit out of my reach.
Back when the stars were just little dots in the skies, little diamonds that you could reach by jumping or running or just lying back and gazing at them until they twirled on their own into your eyes.
Back when the wind was more than a whisper that followed you home on the long journey, back when everything in the world held a sort of mystic power over the mind as possibilities were infinite and always would be and the world was a place of adventure enclosed in the tiny microcosm of the school playgr
Basmachi: A Short Story (1/2)The watch stopped ticking and I was suddenly aware of the outside world again. The grass was green to the point of sickliness, the sky a disturbingly brilliant electric blue, the same blueness of the parasite's eyes that had been such a fixture in my life recently. I felt as though I had given birth to this pasture, this singularity without which I would not have been reborn into the life of basmachi banditry. It was here, after all, where the events that had changed the course of my life forever had occurred.Basmachi: A Short Story (1/2)3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The wild flowers smelled like roses. Roses. Why have humans associated them with love and the rawness of sexuality? I never understood why sexuality was taken by so many to be an integral part of romantic love. What was romance? When Nurana sat down with me and tried to explain to me many years ago, I could only remember getting confused.
We had never been close, but I was going to marry her in a month's time. I had to; there had been no other path for me due to my poverty
Missing YouMissing You4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
"Cause if one day you wake up
and find that you're missing me..."
Words fade away and some stand clearly, only to be lost again in the never-ending storm of worries, thoughts, dreams, aspirations, plans... how has it come to this in such a short time? We've been walking this path for so long, but no matter when we turn back to look, the distance grows and grows. A few steps, a few miles, it doesn't make a difference, each moment brings changes, some that will remain and scar the pitted road to come.
I miss the road I once walked, I miss the child I wish to remain. The world never waits for anyone, and if you rest awhile on your path, the path will move along for you. Never stopping, never wishing for a short dance across the timestream, there's always more stars in the sky to reach for than ever before.
Those around us, those that we found as friends become much more and much less as the path narrows and those who walked together may walk further away. Parallel paths, never cros
DuetSometimes, after a long day, when all Droog wants to do is sit down and smoke and drink his troubles away, Deuce comes in and makes it worse. It doesn't matter to the runt that it's a bad time to blabber on and on about some magical shiny treasure (a piece of flashy junk) or about the scrumptiddlyumptiousness of licorice (only sweets he cares for are Swedish Fish) or about Slick's weird magazine of suggestively posed terriers (what.) And Droog, sitting on the couch with a cigarette between his fingers, Grey Ladies tucked between an issue of the Gazette, grunts now and then while Deuce runs his motormouth, hoping that the little Dersite will get the message to go away, please, before I stick a cuestick through your head.Duet5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But Deuce doesn't get the message, he rarely does, not unless you tell it to him nice and simple and slow, and even then that isn't a guarantee. So Droog sighs and presses his hand against his face, says, Deuce--
And that's when the little bastard s
Anymore, NevermoreAnymore, Nevermore4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
I don't want this anymore.
Within the shuttered shades of the passing days, I can feel more and more of my fears slipping through my fingers to puddle in the air around me. I feel more and more of my idle dreams being dashed to dull shards of the forgotten past, I feel less and less of the brightness that I carried within the palm of my hand as I strode forward through life.
What happened to those heartfelt days that rode on the breeze of a sunny day, what happened to those smiles that were never tired, that had yet to be laced with the hint of sadness and a faint sparkling of regrets?
The chaos molds itself to a new shape and spins a tale of failed creation, a tale of things not meant to be. Forming the next day in a wineglass filled with possibilities and hopes without resolve, we race towards a horizon that may crumble before our eyes.
We can polish these glass figures until they shine, but we cannot make them feel.
To search for the resolution is to search for a solution tha
Selkie There is a fisherman sitting on a rock by the shore; his forlorn grey eyes watching grey clouds rolling over apathetic grey waves, and beyond, a grey horizon.Selkie2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He sits with empty hooks, empty nets, empty stomach, wrapped in layers of clothes like broken shutters that do not keep the chill out. Young and tan, he is, skin chapped by the wind, broad shouldered and well muscled from breaking his back dawn to dusk.
That must be all he knows, a grey life of work and water.
come to the shore,
and I will meet you there.
I am velvet,
I am smooth.
come down to the water.
let's play in the sea.
Forget your empty stomach,
there is only me
and the rolling waves.
Forget your net,
and your steel hooks,
they have nothing on me.
Must I come to you, for you see me not? I am shedding my skin, for you, fisherman.
Behold now the fair maiden down by the shore; my ivory skin, rose in the
The ABCs of AmnesiaA is for Alexander, the perpetrator of all this madnessThe ABCs of Amnesia3 years ago in Humor More Like This
and for Agrippa, one could only wish he'd talk a bit less
and for Amnesia, it's the only way to forget
B is for Brutes, a run in you'd surely regret
and for Brennenburg, Daniel isn't a fan
and for Blood, paint the lines, cut the man
C is for Cornered, growls closing in
and for Caught, tossed in prison
D is for Daniel, to him this isn't a game
and for Die, three conclusions end the same
and for Darkness, when there's no oil left to burn
E is for Eerie, the fear is nothing to spurn
F is for Forget, but you'll slowly remember
and for Fear, the smallest light should temper
G is for Gatherers, they will always find you
H is for Hide, you might live if you do
and for Haunt, half lost memories won't leave him alone
and for Hazel, her current whereabouts are still unknown
I is for injuries, from falling, getting caught, and standing in the water
and for Insanity, how can you not go mad, remembering each slaughter
J is for Jump,
The Clockmaker + His PrincessCan you hear the laughter of the children down the streets of Brawl City? See how they frolic through the winter landscape, how gently the snow dances into the hands of the eager little children who look up toward the cloudy grey skies as they stick their tongues out to catch these magical snowflakes. Do you hear singing reverberating through the air? Hear the merry carolers let loose the joyous songs from their souls, their imperfect voices mingling together in perfect harmony. And the bells! Oh, can you hear the bells, can you hear the bells ringing in their tinkle-tinkle-tinkle way, and can you hear what happiness they bring to the beggars crouched low in the streets? Can you hear their shuffling footsteps, their baited breaths, as they gather around the base of the bell tower to receive their hot meals? Yes, it is winter, and it is the Christmas spirit, and you can look around and see the mistletoe, the pine trees, and the red-tinged cheeks of those wandering outside and undThe Clockmaker + His Princess6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
SwansFor years it has happened, for years they have forced us. Ripped us from our weddings. Found us bathing naked in crystal waters, our feathered cloaks waiting like patient owls for our return. Only to have them caught by filthy mortal hands dirtying the white pinions with their lust. When the others fly there will always be one left behind, crying out, "Sisters, sisters, wait!" While the mortals clamber out of the bushes to claim her. Did they know as they wed us that they were stealing us from our true husbands?Swans8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Often we would never hear from the lost ones again, sometimes they would return their feathers crushed and mangled, their hearts longing for the children they left behind. Sometimes, very rarely their previous husband to be was still there waiting, often times he was gone, passed on from grief.
Swans mate for life, and our preparations for marriage is a in depth process. The last part of which is the cleansing. The males go to one pool to wash and then return, and the females g
The Swan WifeWhen he asks her name, she does not know how to answer.The Swan Wife4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There is no way to vocalize the name the air gave her, not with this human throat and mouth; she is unpracticed in the ways of humanity, and certainly she is reluctant to give her name to someone who is not like her, is not a swan.
So instead she runs, bare human feet pounding on the sand, snatches up her feathers from where they lay next to her sisters', and flies away. Her sisters don't take long to follow, but they ask her why she was in such a hurry to go.
She does not tell them of the human boy who waited for her in the trees, hunger on his face and a name that she doesn't want to know on his lips.
They return the next week, on a different day. She prays he will not be there.
The hour is late; the clouds' lifeblood leaks out into the sky. The sun is almost set, and to the east the sky is the dusky blue of her own eyes.
She and her sisters land on the white sand of the sound; they shed their feathers, and toss them into the gr
Ain't No Redemption - Chapter OneOf Gunpowder DeedsAin't No Redemption - Chapter One1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
There are many ways to kill a man. A blade in the night, poison in his drink, or hands around his throat. For the unjust, who ride the wastes on malignant steeds, the question of death had many answers.
To those who sit on the thrones of justice, with scrutiny in their eyes and the word of the law upon their tongues, the answer was the hangman's gallows or the headman's block.
For he who stalks this Fragment, where the Deadman himself comes to play, the question of death has but one answer. But he is willing to repeat it six times.
-From, The Lay of the Gunfighter,
Thibian Crass, 3092 AFL
The Deadman's Waste,
The Fragment of Tume,
The Warlord's ShadowIn the world of man that ever-shifting place where air and light and strange corporeal things existed the sun had set hours ago. The room was dark and silent, as was the one who watched it, patiently awaiting something. Or, rather, someone.The Warlord's Shadow4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Footsteps could be heard in the stone halls. A light crept in beneath the door, which at last opened wide. Into the black room stepped a woman. She was tall and blonde and, in one man's eager eye, beautiful. She wore thick leather armor, and a tall axe hung by a strap from her back. She had a pretty face, though it was tense and glaring as she scoured the room by torchlight. At last satisfied that she was alone, she entered the room and closed the door. She set her torch to a candle on a table, then tossed it unceremoniously into a large fireplace that had been just barely visible in the darkness.
The woman walked about the room, her steps hard and her eyes sharp but weary, and lit a few more candles before pulling off her thick
CaptivesThey use zip ties now, the cops. This is different from the last time I was cuffed. I was expecting the cold metal bite of a cuff always a little too tight. These were worse, tighter, and the thin plastic pinched and felt like ligature wire against the bone.Captives1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They read me my rights, too. The woman cop, a head shorter than me with dull hair pulling the skin of her face tight against her skull. Her eyes looked dead, sunken. Shadowed by the shiny brim of her smart little hat.
She gripped my arm like I was trying to get away. My flight was over, if it had ever begun. What did I have to run from?
“Get in the car, Ma’am,” she said. “Watch your head.” Her hand shoved my head roughly under the doorway. I felt tears, but I refused to give her the satisfaction.
“You have one phone call, Ma’am,” they said when we got to the station. “Do you have anyone to call before we book you in?”
I took it. I called the only person I needed to t
Anime Girls from Another World TG - Part 3Anime Girls from Another WorldAnime Girls from Another World TG - Part 32 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I would see Lissa again on Wednesday with the second class session, which had two less students on our side and three less on the other side (no one I knew). Let the attrition begin…
Lissa crept closer to chat with me during breaks and before class but she enjoyed the back row too much to give it up, same with me for the middle. The second class involved a lot of theoretical discussion, some accounts (in both written and video form) of the experience of the imitation device as well as plenty of precautionary notices, and a lot about “gender politics” as well as terms which verged into the abstract.
Not to say they weren’t explained but the explanations spiraled into other definitions which even seemed to cycle back on themselves. I leaned against the cushioned wall for a time and lazily jotted down notes. It wasn’t till towards the end of the long discussion that it was revealed we didn’t need to r
Bully tg Chapter 5 (story)Bully tg Chapter 5 (story)3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"What do you mean you've got an idea? David said, "I'm not going to change someone just because you want to experiment."
"Hear me out first," Alec responded, "You basically know nothing about your power except that whoever you touch turns into a girl." He glanced at a female Riley reading a book on the couch and Sam who was hiding behind David. "I think it's a good idea to figure out a way to control it. You don't want to be isolated the rest of your life."
"I'm hardly isolated. I'm basically always with Sam," David stated, but realized it was a weak argument.
"Which is why you came over to Riley's home to play video games, right? Face it, you're lonely and you don't want to change another person by accident. It's better to understand what you can do and practice."
"But I'm basically killing them. Their personality and body are completely transformed."
"That's why we go somewhere where the people are almost dead anyway. Before my grandpa passed away, he stayed at a rest home. Plenty of
Pretty Wild For a Manchild*This song is rated M for HONEST CONTENT.*Pretty Wild For a Manchild5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Give it to me Megan. JULAYY! JULAYY!
Give it to me Ivy. JULAYY! JULAYY!
Give it to me Kacey. JULAYY! JULAYY!
And all the homos say he's pretty wild
For a manchild.
I NAME IS NOT IAN BRANDON SOMETHING
You know it's kind of stressful
To run CWCville today.
He's really not creative,
But he fakes it anyway.
He plays with children's toys
And he's got a crazy style.
But everything he lacks
Well he makes up in denial!
So mass debate!, Don't get a date!
You know he really doesn't get it anyway.
Yeah he wears a bra! Drinks jizz Fanta!
But he's still straight!, But he's still straight!
He's stronger than you!, Created sonichu!
And don't ban him from your store or he'll call you a dirty JEW!
The world needs autistics.
So (Hey! Hey!) do that Tard-rage thing!
Give it to me Megan. JULAYY! JULAYY!
Give it to me Ivy. JULAYY! JULAYY!
Give it to me Kacey. JULAYY! JULAYY!
And all the homos say he's p
Tf2 - The hand of ConagherIt was one of those summer days you wish would never end. The weather was perfect, barely a cloud in the sky. People as well as animals walked the streets, looking like they didn't have a care in the world, and despite the sound of cars driving by you could hear the birds sing happily.Tf2 - The hand of Conagher4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
But someone who didn't take time to enjoy all this, was Catherine Denham. The young lady had a serious,almost concerned look on her flawless face. Her black hair danced in the wind, making the ends slightly curled. She wore a red, spotted dress with a wide white belt that made her look even thinner than she already was, and high heels in the same red color as the dress. Red fits good on her, he had told her so, and maybe that was just the reason she insisted on wearing it lately. But, she could not convince herself enough that that was not the case. She just enjoyed the color, liked how it brought out her light skin, and how it fit so well with her long black hair. There was nothing more to it. Her conce
The HaircutThis story is told in the 3rd person. The main characters name is Gabe. He is a 14 year old boy. He has brown hair that covers his ears and covers his forehead and a little of his eyes. he is 5 foot four and weighs only 107.The Haircut2 years ago in Settings More Like This
Gabe was walking home from school with his best friend, Joseph. Joseph deceded to invite Gabe over to his house for dinner. Gabe did the normal he called him mom and she said he could go. So they just continued walking until they reached Joseph's house. They opened the door and let themselves in. They preceded to walk up into Joseph's room.
"Black ops?" Joseph asked.
"Why not?" Gabe responded. They played Black Ops for a good half hour, until Joseph's mom walked in.
"Hey Gabe! I didn't hear you come in. Man! your hair is getting long, tell your dad to get it cut before I do it for you!" Joseph's mom is a strong believer in boys have very short hair and girls have longer hair.
"Yeah sure."Gabe responded. Joseph's mom walked out the door
UnbrokenTell me,Unbroken6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are my hands cold?
I feel old--
Not in years,
But in half dried tears.
My fears are gone with you.
I am resilient too.
I once was brilliant
The way diamonds sparkle in mud
But gems are just rocks
And only fools fall in love.
I thought the world was
Epitomized in your face-
How much of the universe is just empty space?
Everyone (I suppose) makes mistakes
And so we digress, supress and repress
Tarnished memories of youthful disgrace.
Yet how can I erase the lust of imagined glory?
Is there such a thing as an unwritten story?
We're all destined to cry
All fated to die.
Dear, do not lie-
You are a cynic, too.
You would sell your soul, wouldn't you?
Whose god is God,
Gentile or Jew?
Religion is a scapegoat to you.
You tried to teach me
About faith, hope and love.
But I only learned what heartache does.
So now I sleep
With eyes that do not weep
But burn in apprehension.
Dreams are merely a reflection,
An extension of revelries long dead
And my days are too few
Sonic the Hedgehog AnalysisIf there is one figure that constantly rivals the gaming world's Mario, it's Sonic.Sonic the Hedgehog Analysis5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
He's been running around for more than a few years and it's a wonder he hasn't aged at all. But surely a series as long-running as Sonic is bound to have a few dark secrets of its own, something that makes it more than a game or two where you pick up chao and run around in circles saving baby animals.
Many of you will noticed Sonic has not aged over the past 15 years. This is a representation of eternal youth and his constant running from place to place symbolizes the desire to never grow up and remain forever young. It also represents youth's irresponsibility and inability of the young to make lasting commitments. Likewise, Sonic's eternally smiling face and cocky attitude symbolize the overall cockiness of youth and the firm belief that he will never have to face the world of growing up or taking responsibility.
Sonic can also be seen to double as a metaphor for the elusiveness of the natural world.
Hi, I'm Arabic, Son Of: A ManualHow "Ibn", "Bint", "Abu", "Um" and "Al" are used in Arabic culture.Hi, I'm Arabic, Son Of: A Manual3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
As most people know, I'm a fan of the Assassin's Creed series. I have been since the first game came out and though I have my issues with the franchise, especially the last two less than satisfactory titles, I'd still consider myself a loyal follower. Still, there is one flaw that I shall never be able to forgive Ubisoft for and that is its atrocious use of Arabic "surnames" in the 12th-13th century, the time in which the story takes place.
A protagonist who is called Ibn La'ahad or "Son of None" while his father's name is known? His children and wife are also called that way? Two brothers who are both called "Al-Sayf"? A man who is named Abbas Sofian? Did anyone actually bother to wonder if the Arabic usage of "surnames" might be different from Westerners, especially during that time?
Around the time of Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, the folks from Ubisoft once proudly stated in Xbox 360 Ma
Please, don't fade.The moon sings tonight. Full, bright, shining and calling to everyone from the realm of the sky. Wandering towards its zenith, singing, smiling.Please, don't fade.5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Come dance with me, she says. Come dance your woes away. Come forget the fears before the clouds come and hide me away again.
I can't, I whisper back. But my heart knows a different answer. I want to climb mountains, I want to soar through the clouds and scar the sky with my emotions. I want to escape this daily life, I want to spread wings, I want, I want.
The answers we search for may be just fluttering by our shoulders. With the moon whispering above, while we remain below, to reach out for the stars and grasp our dreams would seem so much simpler if not for the clouds misting through the darkness.
Those clouds, those rainy selfsame days. Through a river of sky tears, through a wash of forgotten memories. Softness, solitude, quietly wrapping around our hearts and turning them to glass. Resonating with the falling drops, drifting forevermore