In Glob's Hands
Jolly Jimmy was just your average living candy person. He spent most of his days in a big wooden house with a big chimney above a big fireplace. Everyone loved Jolly Jimmy. There wasn't a single day in which he was in a foul or lugubrious mood. People loved him and he loved people.
Then one day he invited a friend over named Berry Blombus, whom was a simple blueberry. They swapped many a story and much gossip which was spread far throughout the land of Ooo. "This is a nice fireplace." Said Berry Blombus in the most convivial of manners, holding a nice chunk of firewood in his delicious hands.
"Yes it is. But please don't add anymore firewood. I don't want to boil in here." replies Jolly Jimmy as he prepares a snack across the room.
As the fire was not lit, Blombus put the wood into the fireplace before continuing to chat with his oldest friend.
Later that night Jolly Jimmy decided to curl up near the fire and read the much heard about and disliked fan-fiction Fionna And Cake. He believ
Artist Blue - If It's AlienArtist Blue - If It's Alien2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The old woman pushes the book across the counter, "There you are, miss."
A young woman picks up the book, a story of adventurous pirates, one of great fame: Treasure Island. She's never read the book before, despite her near obsession with literary works. She stares at the cover for a short period, the image of the pirate captain and the young boy approaching a beach speaks volumes onto it. She opens her tiled rainbow satchel and places the novel kindly between her school science book and notebook, which are surrounded by miscellaneous items placed in careless areas. She leaves the library, a light smile upon her gentle pale face. She pushes her blonde hair from her face as she steps down a small flight of stairs. The free hair brushes annoyingly against her blue hoodie. She grabs her hair and ties it up to cause less self-disturbance. The snow is finally melting in the town of which she resides, she walks patiently to her home, about ten minutes into this walk she pulls out the book i
He Smiles Without A MouthHe Smiles Without A Mouth2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He always watches, but he has no eyes.
He laughs behind you, but he cannot speak.
He follows you everywhere you go, but he does not walk.
He always smiles, but he has no mouth.
He stands a great height, but he is given no advantage.
He is in the back yard, but he does not announce himself.
He is known as the slender man, but he has no name.
Artist Blue - PrologueArtist Blue - Prologue2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Outside of these doors is a menagerie of monsters, an abundance of adventures, and most of all; a prevalence of perils. However, at this moment there is nothing. They call me Artist Green, each one of my regenerations will contain an obsession with a different color, allegedly. On what basis this was formed I have no idea, as I have yet to even reach my second life. Here I stand, pacing around my type 99 TARDIS, waiting for the call from my employer. I travel around as a kind of Gallifreyan mercenary, should anyone wish for my assistance I am more than happy to oblige them. This last assignment was given to me by a fellow named the Corsair. It sent me to Earth in what they refer to as 100 BC, in a country titled "Greece." I have never cared much for the populous which resides upon the planet. They eternally fear that which they do not understand, and plan to eliminate anything that doesn't make sense. Humans try to understand everything, yet they perceive nothing, they are like blind m
Artist Blue - The Classic CoupleArtist Blue - The Classic Couple2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
As the TARDIS travels through the time-stream we find both Teleena and Artist in the depths of the nearly endless and very much alive machine. Artist watches himself in the mirror as he wears various clothes in an attempt to form a new outfit. He currently wears blue jeans and a red shirt.
"So, you're an alien?" asks Teleena as she watches politely.
Artist's reply is a simple "Yep."
"Cool. But you look like I do."
"Well Timelords tend to look like that. Anyone could be one really. From Mary Poppins to the Cat in the Hat," replies Artist as he puts on a well fitted denim jacket. "What do you think?"
The TARDIS makes an electronic noise as it lands while Teleena forms a rebuttal. "It's alright. But if we end up in the 1930's you'll look like a convict."
Artist makes his way for the door as he responds. "Teleena. We've got all of time and space in the entire universe. What are the chances we'll..." He halts as the doors open. "Oh." In front of him is a small American town, the year 1934.
Artist Blue - Don't Trifle With TrifluorsArtist Blue - Don't Trifle With Trifluors2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"So, I'd assume you're still hungry," says Artist to Teleena.
She replies. "Very, actually."
While staring at the console Artist points almost wildly towards a hallway which begins on the right side of the room. "Head down that way, it's the fourth room on your left." He then calls for his robotic assistant.
"Yes, master?" Replies the little helper.
"Please escort Teleena to the kitchen. Show her how to work the machinery."
He replies again with the same words as a statement. "Yes, master."
K-9 then slowly strolls off and Teleena follows. "Is there any way he can move faster?" she asks.
"Well, yes. But first he'd need to self-destruct and that would just be a mess."
Eventually the two reach the cookery. Teleena stares at the single machine in the center, with white circular shapes protruding from it. "So what do I do?" she asks.
"Just push the large button, mistress."
Teleena does just that, and then the machine dispenses an item: It looks almost like a thin stick of butter, as she imm
Artist Blue - Death of the GovernorArtist Blue - Death of the Governor2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
On luscious green grass only a few miles from a mountain lays a magnificent garden. Then the TARDIS lands, it immediately forms into one of the grass-like items among the garden. Out steps Artist Blue, who immediately takes a deep breath. “I love it when the air’s fresh.” He exclaims cheerfully.
Behind him steps out his partner, still dressed in her favorite blue sweater. “It looks like Tim Burton threw up on a garden.” She utters almost sourly.
“I don’t get your cultural references, Catherine. Remember that,” he says before being approached by a white humanoid robot.
“Halt,” the machine says in neutrality. “You are trespassing on state property.”
“Ooh. I love robots,” Artist gleefully exclaims. The robot’s hand projects a tiny weapon. “But I hate guns.”
“Identify yourselves or be apprehended. Force will be used.”
Artist sighs disdainfully. “Neither her nor I possess
Artist Blue - The Metahumans of Gameworld GammaArtist Blue - The Metahumans of Gameworld Gamma2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
They stand in a lush green field as they step out of the self-cloaking TARDIS. “So where are we this time?” asks Teleena innocently.
Artist looks around as the ship disguises itself as a mossy boulder which hardly belongs in such an open area. He notices a swamp distant to his left, he then looks ahead. “I see two, no... three cities, all very large.” He inhales a strong breath of air before removing his shoe, dropping it. “Normal gravity,” he exclaims. “We’re into your future this time, by billions of years.”
“What makes you say billions?” asks Teleena a few curt seconds before an animal runs by, a body greatly similar to a deer, yet glowing green and expelling some kind of gas from its antlers.
“That does.” Replies Artist smugly. He then points with his shoe still in hand. “Also, you see that forest?”
Teleena replies with a simple “Yeah.”
“It’s a hologram. You can feel it
Ink On The Ballroom FloorInk On The Ballroom Floor2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Inside my mind stands a single man. This man has grown and evolved, as have I in the real word. But he does something I do in rarity: he dances. He dances to music, alone. He thought he would never dance with another, until one day I met a very special woman. She and I danced, thus he was gifted with a dance partner himself. This man is made out of ink, as is many of the things existing within my mind, and each step is a word written in genius. As they dance I see the beauty created: immortal men, mysterious shadows, the endless expansions of love and the trials one must face, all from their dancesteps.
Artist Blue - Cyclops on the SagarmathaArtist Blue - Cyclops on the Sagarmatha2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The year of 1924 was very eventful for this man’s life, as well as the last adventure thereof. He stands in a nearly unoccupied bar. Though he is not rested in a seat, his friend is. Instead he's on the payphone, speaking to his very beloved wife of several years. “That’s right, honey. I’m certain that this expedition will be much more successful,” he says with a cheesy but unseen smile. The wife gives her response, he then forms a rebuttal: “I know, but it’s almost set up.” Another reply. “I said ‘almost.’ I’m going to ask Sandy when I get off the phone. It’ll be downright dandy, honey.” He stops to listen to her, “I love you too, sugar. Bye-bye.” He hangs up the phone and rests on a cushioned stool next to his friend, Sandy. “So, are you in?” he asks politely.
“Sure. When should we?”
“I say sometime next month. We can gather some supplies, and I need to fetch
WonderlandWonderland2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I tell you Wonderland exists. I've seen it with my own mad eyes, cats with smiles, plants as big as your head and bigger than the things inside it. I've seen Alice as she runs with me, oh we never stop running, running, running. Ask me a riddle and I will always answer correct, even if the asker says it is not. For he fails to see that everything can do anything, and my answer is everything. They say madness is a disease and yet I see it giving you freedom of reality. I'm always happy that I see the right way round. Because I'm always off my head.
The Most Wonderful ThingsThe Most Wonderful Things2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Sometimes you look up at the sky and think, just think, like something in the stars or that great blue open sky councells you, and you ask questions, discovering. Thoughts come seeping out of your brain like a faucet turned full force. Worlds and people flash through your vision that you swear you've never seen before, but have created first hand. The writer stares through open windows not of boredom, but of deep thought, his or her mind creates an entire universe, an infinite playground of twice infinite wonders and adventures that only they can enjoy, until they use those ideas, they use the ink in their very veins, pumping through their heart to create art, to create beauty, and then they gain a tiny speck of control in their own little realities, creating smiles and memories for others in their lives. They are their own gods, a pillar of self worship without an iota of narcissism. And they are the creators of great things. Wonderful things...
We Move OnwardsWe Move Onwards2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There's only one constant about the Earth; it will always change.
Some people age, Asia takes a turn for the strange.
The Doctor got younger, the TV got colorful
Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, now people are mournful.
The world is becoming more accepting, music is more noise.
Highschool has drama and hate, girls chase boys.
Shootings and hostages, it used to be just illness and the pest.
Nowadays we scream from the gunfire and hope for the best.
But the world has not grown darker, it's merely a different shade of gray.
Yet it can be much brighter, like how we are finally accepting the gay.
Prices went up, so did the population number.
Doesn't that just give you chance of a lover?
David Bowie was a spaceman, Elvis was the king of rock.
Now Kanye West wont give you space, man. And there's no king of pop.
Comics are more expensive, but their worlds are more extensive.
The world spins onwards, towards the next day.
I just wanted to say, the whole world's a play.
Everyone Screams, When The Little Girl Dreams.Everyone Screams, When The Little Girl Dreams.3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Everyone screams when the little girl dreams.
The world turns to black when the children play tick tack.
The siren will call, and it will be heard by all.
There is a silence unknown, to those who are unshown.
It will take your heart, and rip your soul apart.
Everyone screams when the little girl dreams...
The man with a rotten face, will put you in your place.
The girl with a knife is quick to end your life.
The snow will fall, and the children will play, we shall.
People will leave, no one shall breathe.
Everyone screams when the little girl dreams... of Silent Hill.
Food For The InkFood For The Ink2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There isn't blood in my veins, there's ink.
The ink screams sometimes. It wants out, to be free and shown to the world the magnificent possibilities and the inner imagination of my mind.
I see things no one else can, possibilities and worlds nobody's ever even dreamed of.
The ink in my body screams for the world to know.
They must know the marvels. The thoughts in my head.
I see it... The possibilities.
There's so many possible outcomes of life and I review oh so many of them.
What if I went left? What if I said hello to that person?
What if a car came this way?
I see so many possibilities, its food for the ink.
Artist Blue - Copycat and MouseArtist Blue - Copycat and Mouse2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The scraping of shoes upon the TARDIS floor, disgusting organic ground leaves Catherine’s shoes. Artist once again steps towards the ship’s console. “So what’s your opinion on Magla?”
“A giant amoeba the size of a planet?”
Artist looks at her as if curtly frozen. “That’s what it was, yeah.”
“That’s a little insane.”
“It’s quite the aberration. After all it’s one of the 699 wonders of the universe.”
Catherine carries a bewildered expression. “699?”
“Anyways, where to next, luv?”
“Did you just call m--”
“Randomizer? Sounds like a plan!” exclaims Artist to cover his verbal footprints.
“Where’s K-9 been by the way?”
“He’s recharging. You can let him out if you want.” Artist points a finger to the cathedral-like doorway. “Left door, first right turn, first entrance on the right.”
Painting In MadnessPainting In Madness1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
The painting rests on the dead house wall. A life sized portrait of a Asian woman laying on her back underwater. "This is the one," says the man in a fedora, cards numbered 10 and 6 in the brim, designed in style. He lifts it off the wall and places it very gently on the dusty cement floor.
"She looks so peaceful," says the girl with him, admiring the portraits almost, but not entirely, realistic beauty.
"Yeah, she does." He replies before looking at her with the smirk of a madman. "Let's wake her up." He dives his hand into the painting. Rather than his hand cracking against the cement, it enters the painting. He grasps the woman's shoulder and pulls her out of the water. She gasps for the air which she has eternally craved.
"How the hell did you do that?" asks the girl in stunned surprise.
"I'm The Hatter. Only the mad can do things which are truly of madness.
BITTERsweet (LONG PREVIEW)BITTERsweet (LONG PREVIEW)3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
We all have our secrets, some larger than others. A few days ago a particular secret was revealed about the world, it's amazing what hackers are able to accomplish when given the proper tools. The United States government was revealed with all its secrets, demons, vampires, and nearly everything that was common knowledge of being fiction became a harsh reality. In Americas fear of the unknown a single law was passed causing all of the non-human civilians to be arrested and imprisoned in a place known as the CADST prison, it stands for Capture And Detain Supernatural Threats, of course the law has yet to be passed in other countries such as China or Mexico, but this is the new world, and that world is already crumbling...
Our story begins in the dark of night in a city which would have been filled with people mere days ago. The streets are hollow, and families have barricaded themselves inside from the things they do not fully understand. A single red car speeds down the road, fleeing f
A Face So YoungA Face So Young2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Happy birthday to you.
Seventeen years, and a face so young.
We caught each other with the silver tongue.
Me being there still feels brand new.
I always knew I'd fall for you, I had a notion.
Hair (currently) red like the fallen leaves, and eyes like the ocean.
I'm lost in them, then you pull me out on cue.
A kiss, the kiss of true love.
I believe it gave the relationship the proper shove.
My heart makes noise like the zoo.
I love you will all my soul.
You pulled me out of my cemetery hole.
Happy birthday to you.
I hope you have a wonderful future, I hope to share it.
And then I'll see the full extent of your fantastic whit.
You're seventeen, with an enlightened world view.
One day we'll see the whole land, from sea to sand.
It will never, ever be bland.
Happy birthday to you.
Dark As Winter NightDark As Winter Night2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I just wanted to take the day off work.
Spend some time cleaning up the house.
Now I lie on the ground, arms tied firmly around my body, they're already falling asleep.
He collects items of value around me, stuffing them into his worn out backpack.
I squirm and turn my head.
I catch a glimpse of something red before my vision is damaged.
"Stop moving!" He shouts angrily, kicking my face. He stuffs a few more things into the
back pack whilst carrying a sinister smile upon his unkempt face.
Yellow teeth nearly the same awful shade as the walls behind him.
He tosses the bag out the window.
I can't see him.
Then I hear a liquid in a container.
He dumps the foul liquid onto me and the mat surrounding my bondaged body.
It smells awful... Like... gas.
He lights the match just as the sound of police sirens begin to be heard.
They're drawing closer as he debates whether or not to let the match go.
The coin is in the air.
I am me.I am a rock, I am a stone,I am me.2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I am all the things that you bemoan.
I will not cry, I shall not weep,
Even with this pain, even if I bleed.
You cannot make me die,
No matter how hard you try,
I will not weep, although I may bleed,
I will survive, for I am me.
And once I am gone,
And have finished what I begun.
I will still be,
For I am me.
King Of SpadesKing Of Spades2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stories and scripts, oh so bright.
Some never see the dawn of light.
Adventures and escapades.
Hidden like the king of spades.
Hard to find in the deck of life.
Others will tret it with such strife.
Stories are whole worlds in your head.
They live until the day you're dead.
Whatever you do, don't tell your friend the secret.
It would be much better just to keep it.
Before they take it and call it there own.
Then your story is never known.
I would've been.I would've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,I would've been.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know why I tell you this, it's not like you care.
I would've been a legend if it wasn't for the time,
Age of heroes has come and gone, all I can do now is rhyme.
I would've made something of myself, if I'd had the motivation,
But now, I just lie in wait, awaiting even more degradation.
I could've been someone, or something, I know I could,
But right now, it's all talk, all "Could, should, would."
Then there's that "if" or that "but" getting in the way,
I could've been a masterpiece, but here I am, rotting away.
No one even gives me a second glance,
I'm not a famous one like Rembrandt's.
I could've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,
If only the people looking after me had taken more care,
I could've been perfect, and remembered forever,
But now I am just a portrait, of the Forgotten Reaper.
Will You Marry MeYour face is smoothWill You Marry Me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the edge of a freshly wiped blade
Your skin is warm
like teardrops in a steel morgue
Your hands are soft
like linen sheets over pale, cool remains
Your hair falls to your shoulders
with the accuracy of a weighty noose
Your stride is as confident
as a blood-spattered Gladiator
Your legs send my heart
into a state of hysteria with an assassin's efficiency
Never have I wanted so badly
something so fearsome
Now tell me, my darling,