Private Detective -Part 3- The EndPrivate Detective -Part 3- The End3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Pravite Detective!EnglandxReader part 3: the end
It wasn't hard for (name) to figure out who did it. He was there all along, or so she thought. Backing out
of the bathroom, Arthur noticed the fear in her eyes.
"What is it, love? Do you know who could have done it?" Arthur asked. 'It all makes since now! The way
he acted, the flirty attitude, the tea leaf, and he had just taken off muddy shoes! Oh no! I-it was Arthur!'
(name) screamed in her head as she took off down the hallway with Arthur close behind.
"Wait (name) why are you running?!" Arthur asked confused.
"You killed him!"
"Wh-what?!" Arthur grabbed (name)'s hand and pulled her to him abruptly stopping her.
"What in the
bloody hell makes you think I did it?!"
"Just think about it! I'm stupid! You knew I would come to you for help! You knew that I would trust you
and never think you would do it! Why Arthur?! Why did you kill him?!"
"I didn't! I would never want to hurt you! I-I I bloody well love you!" Arthur gripped her arms
The Envious MoonThe moon's envious glow,The Envious Moon3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is nothing more, than the suns bright rays
shinning back from a gray face.
The loneliest person in the world,
she can only reflect what others disperse
and never show her own light.
Sometimes though, she gets her desires
to change the light she reflects
and becomes orange or red.
It never lasts though.
She finds solace in her reflection
to know that she is actually there,
and to feed what little pride she has.
And the moon sits alone
never to have company.
Only her mournful shriek her only sound.
She can never be the one
who provides light and comfort.
The most she can do
is give off a little reflected light,
that isn't even her own.
Everyone loves the sun,
that warm, life birthing parent.
And everyone ignores,
the pale envious moon.
Who wants nothing more
than to be loved.
Tears (FranceXReader)It was two weeks ago now. That day, the one that made your world fall apart.Tears (FranceXReader)3 years ago in Romance More Like This
You were still in the hospital, not really for the physical injuries you'd obtained in the crash, but more the mental trauma.
The images still replayed themselves over and over again in your mind. Like a broken record, doomed to repeat itself to the damnation of time. Broken. Just like yourself.
You shuddered, wrapping your thin, bandaged arms around your cold body. You started rocking yourself, tears threatening to fall.
"Ma chérie, how are yo-" a familiar voice started to say, but it cut itself off quickly. Immediately, you felt yourself being cradled in Francis' warm arms. You buried your face in your knees, trying and failing to hide your sobs from him. Your lank (h/c) hair fell forward, obscuring your face from his vision.
Your brother's grinning face appeared in your mind, generating more tears from the sobbing wreck you'd become.
Your tears chocked you and you didn't want the Frenchmen t
...But....The next day, she walked into......But....3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
... School... Her home... The Office...
And sat down next to her...
....Classmate.... Husband.... Colleague....
Without a word.
She put her hands on her knees, and stared into her lap. Outside the weather was....
...Nice.... Horrid.... Unimportant....
She didn't care. Everything was hurting now but, for a few hours, her life had been....
....Perfect.... Unblemished.... Hers...
Tears began to well in her eyes. Scalding her cheeks, they spilled sluggishly down her face. Embarrassing. Pathetic. Unneeded.
....Classmate.... Husband.... Colleague....
Looked at her with concern and, when he spoke, his words tattooed themselves across her lungs and heart.
'Are you okay?'
Inside, her organs strained against her ribcage. The tears continued to fall as she shook her head, 'No.'
He bit his lip, and leaned forward, placing a hand on her knee, 'What's the matter?'
Turning away from him, she said, 'I had a dream last night.'
Scar TissueI don’t know what I hated more: myself, or the fact that my crying woke him up. It couldn’t be later than two in the morning, I had woken up from another nightmare and I found myself huddled in the same spot I always went to in times like these: the bathtub.Scar Tissue9 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was a bad habit I got myself into since childhood, but the coldness of the tub gave me a comfort most things couldn’t. I had been good about keeping my pain hidden from the rest of the world, but by night it came crawling back to me in the form of dreams and flashes of guilt.
The tears would come before I could stop them and I always found myself in this tub. He never knew, and I never told him. What was the point? I’m a girl stuck in reverse who can’t seem to let go of yesterday and take in the joys of tomorrow. My whole life was like a damaged tape, repeating itself when it shouldn’t and having a hard time moving forward. I always could repress my sobs, and I wondered if I was louder than I
Beauty as a Butcher's KnifeThe sound of a dull knifeBeauty as a Butcher's Knife3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
hacking, hacking, hacking
through a daughter's vertebrae,
her face pressed firmly against the cutting board,
her screams escaping as only yellow butterflies
somebody told her lies
An infant died playing Russian roulet
Ten bottles on the table
five of milk,
four of water
and one of poison
somebody let the noise in
A fisherman's child found my only lover
in a garbage bag cradle, muddy mouth gaping,
vines embracing her moldy wrists
mother nature is an artist
she'll paint your corpse deep black
somebody held me back
somebody held me back.
to write for youi wanted to write a poem for you.to write for you2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so i sat down,
quietly - pen in hand -
and wept. because i cannot
contain the ocean in a paragraph,
i can't shape your eyes
in a stanza. and even
if all the world's birds were singing,
it still would not compare
to the symphonies of your kiss;
and this makes me sad!
through wild and happy fields
i've ran, only to discover:
tears can be captured,
but love is always free.
Why I Did ItThe first time I did itWhy I Did It3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
was to see if the rumors
if it took away the pain
like it was suppose to
and just for a moment
I felt free
and at ease
sure there was stinging
but I got off on it
I controlled it
but I don't want to go back
I was a coward
to every sin
every single emotion
I felt within
It destroyed me
and left me with scars
marks that will never fade
of who I was once was...
Paper Lungs She stood before me, her chest wide open, 'What do you think?'Paper Lungs3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I could not help but to stare. Her heart was beating - literally in front of my eyes - between two paper lungs stained with ink. Blinking, I asked, 'Why are you showing me this?'
The girl did not answer. Reaching into her chest, she pulled out a lung, and held it out to me, 'I breathe words,' she whispered, 'This lung is the lung I exhale with. These are the words I breathe.'
Taking it, I unfolded the paper lung, and felt millions of alveoli rippling under my fingertips. But there was something wrong.
I met her eyes, 'This lung is blank!'
'I know,' she said sorrowfully, 'It is not a worthy present to give to you. I'm sorry. I've run out of words...'
Screwing up the exhaling lung, the empty lung, I tossed it over my shoulder, 'Have you anything else to give me?'
Biting her lip, her hands trailed over her remaining lung, 'I have this... but it
The Boy And The Butterfly (Alt)Once upon,The Boy And The Butterfly (Alt)3 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
so back in time,
When creature, beast and bird and;
could all be shaped like human,
there was a little butterfly,
And as every buttefly
she would live for just one day;
and then die...
She met a boy,
the boy loved her,
He didn't know
and he asked her
"Is it true?
You'll die today?
So I was told,
So they say!"
He scared the little butterfly...
She found the owl, the wise owl,
To ask if true, to ask why
"You are just a butterfly,
It is true, by moon you die."
And it was true, so sad she'll die.
But gods were watching
from up, high,
A butterfly shouldn't cry
A butterfly should just live her life in joy,
A butterfly should just live her day in joy.
So the little was reborn,
As human now
would live and die,
A girl was born,
It was a present from the gods,
as I was told from teachers old.
She lived again,
life was joy,
One day again
met the boy
The boy felt,
He didn't speak,
in darkness cried
Loved her again,
Now was a girl,
Moving On“No.” It was all I could say, taking in the carnage of what had just last night been my pristine kitchen. I wanted to collapse onto a chair, but they – and our spacious table – were covered in miscellany. Cleaning supplies, random knick-knacks from the living room, a thermometer, a scale. It was all there, strewn about.Moving On2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My legs were shaking, and I fought the urge to cry. So messy. So dirty. No, no, no. I collapsed onto the shoe bench in between the Franco Sarto and the Gucci. I don't know where Giesswein had gone. I wished I could blame it on burglars, but no.
“She's doing it again!” I called, and my husband came running into the kitchen. We watched his mother rearrange my cabinets, turning tea-cup handles to the left instead of the right. My hands twitched.
“Ma, stop it!” he said, exasperation coloring his voice. “Put these things back, they were fine where they were!”
"No," she said, her voice heavily-accented. "I will take
Renfield's ClockThe package had no label or return address. It was just left on my front porch, wrapped in layers and layers of packing tape and cardboard, square and slim, about a foot and half in length. It was heavy as I picked it up and rather than open it there on the front porch, I brought it inside, and sealed my doom.Renfield's Clock1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Inside, I found a clock. It was clearly old, the rim ornately decorated with motifs of vines, and while I was no expert the material was suspiciously reminiscent of gold. It had to be valuable. I was bewildered as to why I'd find such a thing left on my front porch. I turned it over, inspecting each side of it, and that was when the note that had been tacked to the back slipped off.
'To the person who receives this,' the note read, 'I don't know you and I'm really sorry, but I had to get rid of this. It's killed both my husband and children and now it wants me. I'm sorry.'
For a long moment, I just sat there, the note in my hands, s
Anybody Can Write a Novel - OutlineAnybody Can Write A Novel - OutlineAnybody Can Write a Novel - Outline3 months ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
A Step-by-step Guide for Anyone to Learn How to Write a Novel
This is an Outline of all my current articles, and a look at what is to come. I will try to update it, at least once every two weeks. Also note that just because something is absent from the Outline does not mean I don't plan to write it. This is a compilation of only chapters that have already been written.
(You'll notice that I have neglected some points and chapters within this Outline. This this is simply a result of realizing that there is so much to learn, when it comes to writing. Don't worry, I'll be sure to come back and fill in the gaps. Also, if this list inspires any requested topics that you would like me to address, please feel free to suggest them in the comments section.)
Chapter 1– Beginning to Write
As If Nothing Could Be Stranger 'I have killed the one I love, as surely as if I'd placed a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.'As If Nothing Could Be Stranger3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The girl passing by stopped walking, and looked back to face the speaker, 'What did you say?'
'I have hurt the one I love, I betrayed her,' The speaker sighed, before turning to sit down on a nearby bench in the Church Yard, 'But you cannot begin to understand that.'
Her eyebrows raised, 'Try me.'
She found the boy's mournful words arrogant. After all, she too had broken a fair few hearts in her time. No human being is innocent of that crime.
'Okay then,' He said, a crooked grin creeping onto his lips, 'I'll try you.'
Quickly, the boy sprung to his feet, and grabbed the girl firmly by the hands. Her soul gasped, and against her will fear gripped her stomach. Of two things she was certain. One, she had never met this person before in her life, he was a perfect stranger. Secondly, this boy this man was much stronger than she could ever hop
epitaphin the endepitaph8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when i'm almost gone
and all i've left
is a red lamp
and a ragged song
to pave my way
into the thunderstorm
let every raindrop murmur
i loved you and lost
nothing but emptiness
and the company
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
FFM15: Agent BlackI make a HALO jump from 35,000 feet out of a Raptor, and the ground looks no different from the sky. Above and below, there is only an endless expanse of black, dotted with tiny twinkles of light. Gravity shows me which way is down, and I keep an eye on my altimeter as unseen Brazilian soil rushes up towards me. I'd feel more comfortable about the whole thing if I could at least see the ground, but I dare not risk detection.FFM15: Agent Black4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I dive in alone, with no traditional weapons to speak of aside from my knife and wits. I'm this country's worst nightmare, and I don't need guns or bombs. My technology is older than all of that, and far superior. Even the Nazis looked into it, though their work pales in comparison to what the American government has done with the idea in the past decade.
The altimeter begins to blink in the dark, and I deploy my parachute, drifting slowly down into the barren fields of the Amazon wasteland.
It Had To Be FrogsSunday, October 13th, 2013. Helwan's Circle. It rained frogs.It Had To Be Frogs2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Of course, it had to be frogs. Serena stepped over them as best she could, but they were everywhere. It wasn't the kind of thing you expected to see in smallish town America. One or two, maybe. Any more than that and you're wading into witch burning territory.
Serena really didn't want to wade into witch burning territory.
“What seems to be the problem?” Serena asked, “Aside from the frogs.”
Mrs. Caprica wrung her hands---Serena had never actually seen anyone do that. Truth be told, she'd rather not see it again. The woman had probably been wound too tightly even before any of this happened.
“We just wanted a baby,” she said.
“And you tried to invoke...”
“Heqet,” she said, “She's Egyptian. Ancient Egyptian, I mean.”
“I know who she is,” Serena said, as gently as she could. The frogs were staring a little too intently.
“I followed the bo
An Aspie AnthemWeAn Aspie Anthem3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
only a little differently.
Words of SilenceWords of Silence5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Words are not important,
for words can always lie.
But the silence speaks in volumes,
it screams and I know why!
The truth is in the space between,
our words and silence--unseen.
We do not say what we (really) mean,
but we mean what we (really) say;
just in another way.
And we tell ourselves it's ok well, maybe just for today.
The truth we can't admit, we think is better left unspoken.
Reality won't permit (while wrapped in our gaudy lie),
the thing we must deny,
yet still are sadly hoping.
The unspoken truth is the lie (this is where we begin to die).
But why do we deny,
What we know is real?
And what we feel?
The Words of Silence are cold-blooded killers.
They take you from the inside out.
And you shout,
and you shout,
and you shou
OhFingers in front ofOh3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
laced in light.
The arid, shifting
desert of your palms.
Sand in the beachgrass,
Listen to the shell:
it will teach
what is alive.
Tell your children it was the ocean.
The whole world
can hear you breathe.
Are you innocent yet?
and long, dark hair.
May she never hear the name
that you whisper through the dark.
Going, going, goneGoing, going, goneGoing, going, gone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Three dollars, three fifty, four, the bristles
of Daddy's hairbrush, a handful of porcupine quills
rough as his unshaven face. In the trees,
moths roost like hens, their wings so still
as though Daddy had painted them.
The auctioneer, his black felt hat drooping
with the heat, strides across the snow of their wings,
Daddy's wristwatch nesting
in the palm of his hand, a raven. "Nevermore,"
Daddy would read to us. "Never again,"
Mama said bundling up Daddy's things with prickly twine.
He painted everything: house, barn, yearlings, tractor. "Sold,"
yells the auctioneer, a weathercock in his arms,
wings rough as the hides of Daddy's painted calves.
"Death is too smooth to paint," Daddy said.
But the faster he painted, the faster he died.
I cut the bristles from his brushes,
but he simply tied horsetail hairs to sticks.
Daddy even painted himself, skin translucent as moth wings.
I would sit on his lap. "Paint me, "I would ask,
patting his stubble until my hand stung.
The LongA part,The Long3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Yet not together
Confidence a feather.
Told to need,
Not knowing how to start.
A hiking trip of fear.
Frozen by their shouts.
Timed in bits
Friendships born by act of wit.
Waft around another bend.
Share a dream upon a cloud.
Passed the tense,
Questioning what to be.
i only asked for the end of the world"i found shadows in the sun again,"i only asked for the end of the world3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i looked at her
with a gleam of sarcasm in my eyes,
as she looked down with wind in her hair.
the night looked lovely on her.
the purple of post-nebula progression
it made her eyes look electric blue
though they were a soft green.
"i said, i found shadows on the sun again."
she'd never look up unless
she couldn't breathe and needed
to pull a sigh out of her butterfly winged lungs.
and that bothered me;
- she'd refuse to breathe
only because the air seemed
she'd give up so easily sometimes.
i run out of pretty things to say
but she looks at me expectantly,
hoping i'll find my muse
within the corner of he