HuntersHunters2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
One night deep in the woods, "Where's Jason and Tom we can't move on to the pack without everyone here" Jackson said. Steve turned and faced him "I told you they are new at this you're the one that dropped the bomb shell that were hunting werewolves." Jackson just leaned against the truck rolling his eyes. "They were bound to find out sooner or later." A breeze picks up blowing the branches into sway the light of headlights can be seen down the road approaching. Jackson started getting the guns from the back of his truck. "Bout time they got here." A beat up BMW pulled in and stopped by the others. Jason and Tom got out looking nervous. "Why do we have to harm them if they're so far in the woods why are we bothering?" Tom asked Jackson, "We do it for the better of all human kind. If we didn't who would be keeping the werewolves at bay they can kill us easily. And destroy our homes their just freaks of nature that need to be tamed." Tom rolled his eyes, "You're mea
The Blood of the Great WolfThe Blood of the Great Wolf2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Hear the truth if you dare young warriors. It is not pretty, that tale of our origins. It is one of greed and redemption, murder and betrayal, curse and loss.
It begins in the lands of the Far North during the earliest times, after the formation of the worlds. The gods and giants, elves and dwarves, all the worlds were just beginning and the great heroes and villains of our tales came into being. The big dog and the fierce wolf were newly chained, the dragon had not yet gnawed away so much of the tree's roots and the eagle had just nested in the tree's canopy. It was the time of great battles, of heroism never seen after, when it was so much easier to arrive at the banquet through will and deed but too many beings of that age far too often sought power they should not possess, rather than achieve true greatness.
Long ago a clan of humans had adopted the practice of donning the skins of the great beasts of prey and going into battle with great ferocity. They marched with the imag
Untitled Tiger Project Part 1Untitled Tiger Project Part 12 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The strange feeling came over the tigress Penumbra once again. Her paws tingled, her charcoal hair rose as if electrified, and her body felt faintly as if it were being constricted by the air around her. She flicked her ears in irritation, but she was too used to the phenomenon to express actual alarm. She didn't even bother to raise her head off of her single broad foreleg. The sensation would pass, as it always did, and she paid little mind to it.
It was the water leaking from the rusted pipe above her head that caught her interest, though. She had been absent-mindedly watching the pure water fall, drop by drop, from the peripherals of her vision. Now the rhythmic, predictable dripping slowed until it stopped. Then, in defiance of every law of fluid dynamics that Penumbra knew, the drops of water began to rise from the floor and slip back into the pipe. Penumbra stiffened and swivelled her head to watch.
Puppy PlayThe Wolf and the Lean Dog Ver3 Puppy GamesPuppy Play4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was quite cool for a midsummer day, but that didn't stop the overbearing sun making its presence known to the countryside below. It wouldn't last much longer however as a large battalion of rain clouds were drifting their way across the country on a gentle summer breeze. Indeed the fields which were now dry would soon be drenched to the root, the soil saturated with water when the heavens opened up. For now though, the creatures living in the fields and the forest were able to enjoy the last few minutes of sunlight.
There was one though that would quite happily welcome the rain with speed, as he took shelter beneath the shade of an oak tree, outside the back gate of a human household. A young black furred wolf cub of three months of age sat impatiently awaiting the impending rainfall, with his sable coat absorbing the heat of the sun. He wasn't sure what he was looking forward to more the rain or the arrival of the black and white husky pup
Pansexuality"Pansexuals are bisexualsPansexuality1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
who are just fancy snobs
in need for a 'cooler' word
to fancily name their flaws"
I've heard this said so many times
and yet believe it be untrue
it's scared people telling lies
people scared of something new
First of all I'd like to say
sexuality isn't wrong
there is no need to point it out
and call it a flaw
It's a normal part of us
how nature let's us come
there's homosexuality in all living species
and homophobia in one
Now for there difference
of pansexual and bi
Bisexuals usually have tendencies
Pans give everyone a try
We don't care
if you're from here or there
don't mind the colour of your hair
or the kind of clothes you wear
Bisexuals say "boys and girls
but I prefer one side"
there's nothing wrong with saying that
there's nothing there to hide
All we pans really care about
Is who you are and have been
Is loving you for who you are
really such a sin?
Nothing more that we can doOne shotNothing more that we can do2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"There is really nothing more that we can do, Dr. Watson."
"Thank you Dr. Clarkson, Would it be okay if I spent the night with him?" John asked.
"Yes, of course, would you like a cot brought in for you?"
"Yes, thanks. I appreciate your assistance in this."
Dr. Clarkson extended his hand in friendship. "I've read about the legendary friendship between you and Mr. Holmes. I'll be by in the morning and we'll have the results of all the post op tests. Have a good evening."
"I'll see you then." John said. He pushed a comfortable chair close to Sherlock's bed, but didn't sit.
"Well Sherlock. I want to thank you so very much for pushing me out of the way of that murderer's bullet," John started out with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, which broke down into a near sob. "but it would have been even better if you had dodged that bit of shattered bullet that nicked your hard-as-a-rock skull."
He took hold of Sherlock's hand.
"I'm going to stay with you tonigh
Tears to RainWhen you cryTears to Rain2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll pick up the pieces
Here's my heart
I want you to keep this
So you'll be fine
Let me take the fall
It's only just begun
It only hurts just once
I'll shield you from the pain
Till all the tears you cry turn to rain...
Every word I speak is true...
Every single 'I love you...'
RealityRomantic ideas are just romantic ideas.Reality2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dear parents,Dear parents,Dear parents,8 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I'm sorry I keep messing up I'm sorry I keep making mistakes I'm sorry for everything I have ever done to upset you.
You don't understand how it feels to be to lost or frustrated at the age of fifteen, I'm sorry I can't make good grades or be good in sports.
I'm sorry I can never make you happy or impress you...I try though I try all the damn time to make you happy.
But it's never enough I always mess up does that give you the right to treat me like shit? Like I am nothing to you?
I was told by a good friend that mistakes are just lesson learned why can't you understand that.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect like everyone else I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be I'm sorry for being such a screw up.
I'm sorry that I forget important things but that doesn't mean I don't care about it? I'm sorry for writing this.
I'm sorry I can't pass my Star test, I'm sorry I'm not good at math I'm sorry for stressing you out but you're not the only one.
I'm sorry for never being brave
HeathensClosets filled with toysHeathens2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
cannot spare room for clothes so
the boys roam naked
Megan's Story: Chapter 1If you are aware of the demon known as Symphrax, then you are most likely aware of the Angel who defeated him; you are aware of Megan, the pale, black-haired woman with red eyes. However, all life has a story to it… how did Megan become an Angel? Was she ever human? If so, then what was her life like? Yes… Megan was, indeed, human at one point. That answers the second question. But now, there's the other question: what was her life like as a human? Let's find out, taking a journey into the past…Megan's Story: Chapter 11 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
In the world that Megan lived in, things were rather modern, rather than medieval, as you've seen in Symphrax's and Tsaul's reigns of chaos… Megan lived among the people who lived in a city named Whepper-Jonsen City. The people in this city were often crude, and very mean, typically uneducated as well. Their mayor, Whepper Jonsen, had all but given up on the small city. He'd tried many things to keep the people under control, including secure police, cameras around t
The Cookie Monster (p.3)What she needed was some sort of control, Rose thought as she floated helplessly, stalled, in the zero gravity and total darkness of the Tardis. Like a sail. No, there was no breeze in here. Or like a paddle. Yeah, something she could row with. After a moment's thought she twisted around and wiggled out of her jacket, hoping each moment the gyrations would make her bump into something. No such luck. She got the jacket off and pulled it around in front and stuck her arms back through the sleeves backward. She grabbed the bottom edge of the jacket zipper and started paddling, using the jacket as a cross between a paddle and a sail, like a big flipper fin.The Cookie Monster (p.3)2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
With much grunting and puffing she pushed the jacket in front of her then swept it back below her stomach. Laboriously rowing her way through the air. She knew she was moving, she could feel the cold air flowing down her back, chilling her sweat.
Certainly it couldn't be this far to a wall. If only it wasn't so dark. She couldn't tell i
NosebleedTruth:Nosebleed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your nosebleed is making me feel nauseated. It's a bone-deep kind of nausea, too. Drip, drip, drip, into the marrow.
I am going to watch you cough and then bleed out of your left nostril (a souvenir of a fight you caused under street lights) and pretend the drops you're making on my clean linoleum and on my white shirt are beautiful.
I think your eyes are turning yellow again. It's the colour of buttercups, surnrises, jaundice.
You know you have bloodshot, spidery eyes, but I'm going to smile sweetly and tell you they're blue so you'll feel a little better about staying awake all night looking at green contact lenses so you'll be just like me.
You said that you were jealous of me yesterday, but you said it while polishing your chipping teeth, so I'm not sure what to believe.
I am going to reassure you that I am nothing special - I can't write, can't paint, I can't mimic a distant solar system, and you're going to pretend that you believe me, but you
What is love, John?One ShotWhat is love, John?2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John had a subdued fierceness about him. He carried himself well and was not above speaking his mind. Sherlock liked that about him. The more time he spent with the short, brave, outspoken man, the more comfortable he became. Sherlock wasn't comfortable with many people at all. Mrs. Hudson. Yeah, that was it, well maybe a bit of Lestrade.
The first time John Watson had walked through that door at Bart's, Sherlock had felt a tinge of something. Strange that. He never felt at all. He'd walled off feelings, built the barricades tall and strong against those pesky problematic emotion things. But there it had been, a sensation that he'd never felt before.
He'd seen the psychosomatic limp and immediately his mind worked to solve the problem. That was what his mind did, all the time. Solve the problem; whether it was a serial killer or a psychosomatic limp. So inside his 'study in pink' case he'd placed his solution for John's limp. Redirection, he'd redirected
Hold the Stars Apart"John?"Hold the Stars Apart2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I'm here, Sherlock."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm good, but you've been injured. So you need to try to be as still as you can. I've got you." John tightened his embrace on Sherlock.
"I can feel your arms around me, John."
"I'm worried about shock, I've got you positioned correctly but I need to help you stay warm."
"I've never been held, John. Not that I can remember."
"Not even as a child, an infant?" John asked.
"I was an extremely fussy infant; preferring not to be held. I cried when held, was quiet when left alone."
"Well, you are being held now, Sherlock."
"It feels good, John."
"Lucky, my mobile works out this far. I've called for help. It will be a while before it gets here. We just have to be patient and wait a bit."
"The night is cold and beautiful." Sherlock looked to the sky over head. "Away from the city lights, the night sky is breath-taking."
"Are you cold, Sherlock? I can take off my jacket and "
"No, John, I'm not cold, with you close, I'm not cold. My t
The dreams in which I'm dyingOne shotThe dreams in which I'm dying2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Are the best I've ever had
(from Mad World by Gary Jules)
That first evening with Sherlock after 'The Study in Pink' case; John walked around the darkened rooms, peeking into Sherlock's open bedroom door. It took a while for the consulting detective to motor down after the death of the serial killer cabbie. Now he was sleeping, peacefully; a jumble of long limbs thrown carelessly upon the bed. It was good to see Sherlock finally at peace. He slept in the all-together, John smiled at that.
[What a quirky young man,] John thought, [brilliant, but eccentric as they come. Would life always be like this living in the wake of a genius like Sherlock Holmes?]
John had killed the cabbie that night, but to protect Sherlock, he would have gladly killed him every night for the rest of his life. Sherlock was alive, so vibrant, a magnet of personality. His genius had a price though; he needed training in the art of human relationships, in his 'timing'. Oh and there wa
Tale Of The ForefathersTale Of The ForefathersTale Of The Forefathers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sun rises to shine over the green lands.
The warm light revives the sleeping plants.
All that is now sleeping starts to wake up.
The birds start to sing the morning songs of joy.
The forest animals start to come out of the dents.
The air is filled with the smell of fresh grass.
All starts to come to life as spring arrives.
The forest now is full of life.
Young ones now learn how to live in this world.
Parents guide them through the unknown.
Their footsteps are at first unsure but later they become full of life.
The voice of happiness of the young ones now echoes across the lands.
A father wolf shows his son the lands.
The young wolf gazes upon the endless green field.
All the animals run through the grass with grace.
The young ones follow their parents step by step.
Around the river all the forest animals are gathered.
They enjoy the fresh water of the mountains.
The youngsters are afraid of their reflection in the water.
A feast is happening around the rive
Serial Killers Like Taylor Swift TooI curl up in front of the televisionSerial Killers Like Taylor Swift Too2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On early Saturday mornings,
Cereal accompanying me as
I surf HD Technicolor waves.
Cartoons are on, cat and mouse games
Acted out by mute, animated fictions.
Rerunning soap operas are playing,
Squeaky clean and altogether lacking
Dirt and blood and real life.
The news is on too, always on,
Showing us their new faux weather reports
As they flash their million dollar
Smiles and tell us about the latest shooting
In Oakland or Freemont or Palo Alto,
And how the murderer killed 24 and a half
Not-so-innocents, on a whim.
Through my sleep-blurred eyes I can tell
The killer looks familiar, maybe from
My school in San Francisco, perhaps
The queer boy who always admired
The ReunionOne shotThe Reunion2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John sat in the flat reading the newspaper. It had been an uneventful week, but there seemed to be strangeness happening just out at the edge of his life. He couldn't place a finger on it. It was as if everything and everyone was just a bit wonky, maybe out of phase. He chalked it up to a lack of sleep or something he'd eaten.
He'd returned to the flat at Mrs. Hudson's urging. She was the one woman in his life who never ceased to amaze him with her kindness and her loving ways. Like a second mother, only better, coming in regularly to give him a warm smile and a laugh. She kept him honest about eating and taking good care of himself, even coming in regularly to 'move things around' as she said. And lately, things seemed to be moving of their own accord. John had found items moved and Mrs. Hudson swore that she hadn't touched them. Maybe a ghost in the elegant dust?
It had been hard a first. The emptiness was like a great hole in his heart. But he knew th
Sometime Ago I fell, JohnOne shotSometime Ago I fell, John2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sherlock didn't know if he'd survive the fall. His plans had been drawn up and implemented in such a short amount of time; there was always the possibility of unforeseen errors. He had to trust to his homeless network to distract John and to back up the most relevant parts of his plot. He had to trust Molly to failsafe his deception; so much depended on trusting so many.
He remembered his tears upon the roof. Telling John he was a fraud, begging him to believe the lie, asking him to not only believe, but to spread the lie. Those tears had been real. In his life he had manipulated all those around him easily with little or no effort. Sherlock had ever been the consummate actor. His performances Golden Globe material, but those tears had come from his newly discovered heart. Those tears had seared that heart, because he knew inside that John would never accept his words; never believe the unbelievable.
Now the hard work began. The deception had to b
Money in a Child's EyesIf I had a nickel for every time you blew me off in front of your friends,Money in a Child's Eyes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'd have a lot of money in a child's opinion.
I could buy two or three packs of that strawberry Pocky that you like so much,
and you'd probably convince me to give a pack to you.
I could buy a pack of cigarettes and not smoke them
because I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.
I could pay for two movie tickets at your favorite theater,
and in the end, you'd be the one to go with me.
My point is, you're my best friend,
even though you never apologize,
or pay me back the money you borrow,
or read the books I suggest until one of your friends suggests it.
I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you this time,
just like every other time before.
The OuroborosThe Ouroboros2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You made me feel as I had never felt,
you made me see what I had never seen,
You gave me more than I could dream about,
You made me happy as I've never been.
I thought we had had everything we could,
precious memories to be kept in the heart.
Although we were marching straight to our end,
you've given our love a new start.
Writing, together, a new chapter of our story.
We can't know what the future will be.
I'm confident though, we have one another -
I've chosen you, and you've chosen me.
The Cookie MonsterThe Doctor does some maintenance on the Tardis, with unexpected side effects for Rose.The Cookie Monster2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"What?!" she yelled from down the corridor.
"Where's my sonic screwdriver?"
"It's in your pocket!"
"I'm not wearing my pocket!"
"Huh?" Rose stuck her head into the Tardis console room and looked around. The Doctor was indeed not wearing his pockets. He was in his shirtsleeves, buried upside down halfway in the Tardis decking as he did something unexplainable to the Tardis. His hand waved vaguely in the direction of his coat and jacket which were thrown over the curved support nearest the door.
Rose rolled her eyes and went to get it for him. "Here." She slapped his screwdriver into his groping hand and crouched down trying to see what he was doing.
"Wonderful. Thank you." He twirled the screwdriver in his hand, took a firm grip, and whacked the butt of it against some recalcitrant piece of machinery above him. Something popped loose with a faint gonging sound. "Hold this for a minute."
Beware the MouseThe explosion hadn't happened in the Morgue, but it was close enough. Some of the supporting walls were damaged and there was fallen rubble everywhere. Sherlock lay unconscious with Molly on top of him. She'd pushed him away from the collapsing wall that had nearly fallen in on them both.Beware the Mouse1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Molly came to and peered in the dust filled air. Lifting herself off Sherlock she began to examine him. He didn't have any outward signs of severe injury. There was bruising on the left side of his face.
"Sherlock?' She touched him gently. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" He gave no response to verbal or physical stimulation.
They were inside the morgue itself. She would have to drag him out into the hall and away from whatever had happened. This was no accident the Spider had told Sherlock that he would kill him where ever and whenever he could. Moriarty was after Sherlock she had to get him away from the threat of further injury and the certainty of Moriarty.
Molly searched Sherlock's great coat, there