Beautiful Today, you are beautiful.Beautiful1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Your parents tell you that you’re beautiful on every other day, too, but no one else ever does. The only time you matter to the world is at your shows. When you’re not beautiful, you’re nothing.
Today, though, you are shining. At least, you think you are, but you’re not feeling great. Your stomach hurts, just like it does before every pageant. Your dress is brand new, and you haven’t gotten used to the way it itches yet. You’re sure your wig is gorgeous, even though the hairspray smells bad.
Your teeth, though, are hurting the most. You know your flipper is a good one, but it doesn’t fit anymore.
The other girls are all beautiful too, crammed here in this
Chocolate MonsterOnce upon a time there was a little girl named Cecilia. She was very sweet looking and very polite, therefore people were always giving her sweets."Such a sweet girl deserves sweets," they said and patted her on the golden-haired head, smiling at her bright-blue eyes. And as it is the way with people, nobody wasted a thought on what was best for the child, as long as it smiled happily, which it always did.Chocolate Monster5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cecilia, on the other hand, started to be very vain, because she could not help noticing that she always got more attention and a lot more sweets from the grown-ups than all the other children. "I must be really special," she thought, "like a princess. One day I'll be the queen of them all. But I don't want to wait that long, they should start bowing to me now." But the other children refused to treat her like a princess, or indeed a queen. Instead, they threw mud at her and were told off for it by the adults. After that they laughed at her behind her back and never talked to or play
I am not summer personifiedDo not compare me to a summers day,I am not summer personified2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm an autumn baby, with fallen leaves,
Printed in gold and amber across my skin,
With the deepest red sunset lips,
Offset by snowy skin.
I am the crisp breath of wind,
On oxygen starved lungs.
Forget the call of the heat,
And fall into my mist embrace.
Moonlight Serenade: Chp 3. Wolves PrideMoonlight Serenade: Chp 3. Wolves Pride2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Over the day, with Fletcher's notes and lecture, had Norah learned more then she possible could known about the werewolves. Their ways of living was strikingly similar to vampires, just a bit more open with their savagery.
However, even if many questions had been answered, many remains, and even more questions was born from the answers. Made her far more curious, almost an obsession of thinking, and it helped Norah forgetting her pain and hunger, her own misery.
Suddenly she got flickered hard in the forehead and she squeaked in surprised with a hand against her forehead.
"You are not focusing Mouse " Ace sighed and shook his head. Even inside his eyes was hidden behind the sunglasses, as he didn't rely too much on his sight anyways. As well didn't he break a sweat, even if the severe beating and training he had gone through, unlike her that had a thin layer of sweat over her face, panting for air.
"Sorry, I'm just tired."
"You are unbelievable, tired alread
The IdolI once saw a man on the television who was so afraid of fruits that when presented with a bowl of them, he fled the stage, knocking over the host and several other guests. Though I openly pitied the man for his obvious malady of the mind, inside, the small bit of sadism buried within all humans laughed at his bizarre affliction. How can one not find cruel amusement in the cowering of a grown man who has been confronted by nothing more than a bowl of peaches? But now I understand fear like no other. I now no longer find amusement in the terror of others, no matter how illogical.The Idol3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Now, let me tell you the story of why the sound of wind whistling through the trees in Autumn strikes me with a fear so immense that I can do little more than shake uncontrollably.
A good friend of mine, a young and upcoming anthropologist by the name of Henry Byrne, contacted me eight weeks ago. Though he refused to go into details, he excitedly explained t
TranssexualI am not man.Transsexual5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a woman.
On the outside,
I appear as a man,
But that is not who I am,
Not who I want to be.
On the inside,
I am a woman,
Who I truly am,
Who I want to be.
Thank goodness for surgery.
So I can express,
So I can become,
What I truly am.
To be freed,
From this male prison.
And enjoy freedom,
Freedom of being female.
Why Spirit Day Is Not EnoughPrefaceWhy Spirit Day Is Not Enough3 years ago in Editorial More Like This
This essay was written in October of 2010 after DeviantART released this article supporting the Spirit Day movement to bring awareness to LGBT bullying.
I wrote it because there were so many comments on the official article that were defaming to one group or another that I felt the true issue had been lost in the rhetoric. The point of Spirit Day is to show solidarity and compassion for your fellow human beings. Not gay or straight or ill or handicapped - those categories don't matter. We're just humans, each flawed and each perfect. Spirit Day was an attempt to remind us of that.
I was confronted with two major arguments to this editorial in the original posting. One was that singling out LGBT suicides meant that I was putting more importance on that group than any other. For the purpose of the article, I suppose that's true. Spirit Day focused on LGBT issues, so the article (
compareeins.compare2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the smoke pouring out of her mouth,
(misty coils of a vague filth,
dancing to noir jazz, fading with each note)
smudged lipstick on the side of of her mouth,
and the little streak that crawled to her tooth
when she bit her lip in a supposed wonder,
and her eyes threw a faint film over themselves,
(like an elegant lady wraps a silk shawl around herself in a light breeze)
the light feet of a dancer
whose calluses were hidden under tight shoes,
whose toes would arch like Nut over her children,
(and she or you would spin with the earth, holding her frame as if-
as if earth was something of mass, as if it had a shape to hold onto)
whose leg would stretch over her head,
her arms, long, pretty, snakes, her fingers curled, and her wrists tense
(her eyelashes were grazing her cheekbones,
her ballet whisking her like a beaten egg, and the laces of her shoes
caught on a rusty nail, which sliced her ankle open, a wince danced on her lips,
Google's PrayerGoogle's Prayer1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Our Google, which art in Wi-fi
Quick be thy search.
Thy results come, thy buffer be done,
On Bing as it is in Chrome.
Give us this day our daily updates
And forgive us our spelling
As we forgive those who butcher English grammar.
And lead us not into Apple,
But deliver us from Siri.
For thine is the Wi-fi, the processor, and the Android forever.
He's Wearing EyeshadowHe's Wearing Eye ShadowHe's Wearing Eyeshadow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He's got a pretty face, it's staring off into space
With his make up on, he can show the world who he is
But out on the street, the fear that he keeps
If anyone knew, he was a man
He's wearing eyeshadow, and it brightens his face
It gives him confidence, but takes it away
ich liebe dichdaylight wakes me up and i turn into the green moth on the windshield.ich liebe dich2 years ago in Letters More Like This
a few months ago i would have died to be someone with the same kind of pulse
as you. i wanted to know what it felt like to breathe your same
air and listen to the fabrication of your words, your lies like lists of things
you wanted me to hear, essays crafted to the palaces of my mind.
you knew what i wanted because you know the architecture of so many women—
not seeing my poisonous nature, the blisteringly sweet aftertaste that crumples
you into me again, again, again, each hit better than the last. together
we chase the dragon, needing more and more of each other
to understand what it means to be alone.
being alone is different than screaming into the pillows as sunlight peers through
the blinds, a curious onlooker. i never remembered falling asleep but i always remember
how strange the light looked, and my nightmares before i woke up being crushed
beneath your arm. my neck was sore from being jammed into the
Gargan and Humon Gargan and Humon were giants. In fact, they were bigger than giants. They were titans. They were so big that, when they stood up, they blotted out the sunlight beneath them and made it as dark as night for miles around. In fact, so big were they that people who saw them often mistook them for mountains. This was understandable, as neither of them washed that frequently and they often ended up with trees growing from the dirt in the deep crevices in their skin that on us would be mere lines or pores.Gargan and Humon1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Gargan and Humon were the last of the titans to walk the earth’s surface. All the others had been destroyed in the war with the gods, or had fled to dwell in the dark places beneath the world, but the gods had long since given up trying to kill the last two. Lightning bolts barely caused itches on such massive creatures. Plagues just passed their immune systems by without even causing a sniffle. The gods once sent a mighty dragon, plucked from the surface of the moon, to devour th
Edward Scissorhands - Pt 9Edward Scissorhands - Pt 93 years ago in Sketches More Like This
Nobody was looking at the dark and gabled silhouette on the hill overlooking the town at exactly twenty-two minutes to twelve that Saturday night. It was lucky that nobody had, or more than one of the townsfolk would have added a new chapter to the peculiar ghost story that had insidiously circulated throughout the town over the decades, permeating the life of each and every inhabitant. For one brief instant, every single light in the place had flared on, crowning the whole hill with a blaze of glory.
The man with the scissors for hands had indeed discovered the electricity junction box.
Edward was lying flat on his back, hair alight with blue sparks, eyes rolling back in his head under the pale eyelids, almost out of their sockets. A faint curl of smoke drifted lazily up from the scorched black leather rags that swathed the prone form, and a smell of burning plastic hung in the air. It wasn't the first time and it certain
Silencio"¡Pero no dije nada!"Silencio2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My sunshineMy sunshine3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As the days grow cold
And the nights dark
It's your sunshine that
Keeps me at ease
Even on the gloomiest of days
when the clouds reign the skies
And a bitter breeze brushes by
So paint me in your sunshine
for me to follow hand in hand
Remember me by your side
So I can keep my ray of sunshine
FrameFrame2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll dance in front of my television
Just to watch my silhouette
With my feet planted firmly
I'll move my arms and hands
Like distinct, ethereal entities
They'll drift around my form
A misty light creeps through blinds
And frames my shadow from behind
A tree with two branches
That swirl around its odd trunk
A tragic limitation of reflection
They disappear within its form
My focus breaking on a pixel
How can this be possible?
The shape is wretchedly abnormal
This outline can't be me
When It Comes to Love...There are two different sides.When It Comes to Love...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One is the Pessimist. She thrives on doubt, self-pity and loneliness.
She always tries to convince me that giving up is my only option. She told me there was no light at the end of my tunnel.
Every once in a while, I believe her.
The other side is Optimist. She thrives on positivity and every scrap of hope I have left in my heart.
She told me that such love does indeed exist in my life.
Every year, Optimist tells me that something wonderful will happen.
I really want to put my trust and faith in the Optimist side.
But at the end of the day, I know I will be judged and ridiculed, for taking Optimist's side in front of everyone.
Because a person who doesn't know me will think I have no hope anyways.
So I show my inner Pessimist to people around me, and usually I keep my true, Optimist feelings to myself.
I look like I never want to be loved again.
But deep down I am desperately searching and asking.
What am I afraid of?
A New Mexico ChildhoodA New Mexico Childhood:A New Mexico Childhood5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Eulogy for My Brother, Gone at 50
God came for my brother at 3 a.m. Not about 3 a.m. but
literally: Right then. It was exact, and I know because I was there.
Apparently, God and Cooper had a pre-arranged appointment to keep,
one we just couldn't find in his datebook. At first,
we were relieved that the merciless pain,
cruel beyond measure, was now in the past.
My mind drifted back and forth; my eyes sought his face, his
hands. I held his hands over and over: dead or alive, those hands
had something to tell me if I could just listen harder! His hands were
like our father's: strong, sure, with beautiful fingers
that belied the hurts inside. And, indeed,
my brother's y
Did You KnowDid you know that I look for your smile,Did You Know9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
When I am alone and sitting for a while,
Did you know that your eyes are a lamp for my path,
Never knowing where I'll step,
Did you know I know your walk,
Your movement is like a carress to me,
Did you know my heart is beating for you,
The day is young and maybe you'll call,
Did you know that I have secrets that others can't share,
I whisper them in your ear when I'm smiling or in dispair,
Did you know my time is short and I want more to share with you,
No matter how much time it slips by me too fast,
Lets take a chance and enjoy our ride,
Me carrying you, and you carrying me,
Did you know I am looking at you now and time is setting us free.
At the Turn of the YearAt the Turn of the Year4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
sunda sora aoi mizuumi fukami keri
the blue lake.
hi kara hi e soutairon no toshi owaru
day after day about the theory of Relativity,
a year approaches its end.
basu tei ya dondon mawaｒu udedokei
the bus stop-
wrist watch whirls in a haste
ningyou no tsuya wo kabuseru hokori kana
covering the gloss on the doll-
obscuring the glory of a puppet-
soujiki de hokori mo neko mo kake ni keri
the vacuum cleaner-
chased away the dust