The Art of EscapismThe Art of Escapism3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Thump ka-thunk thump- the sound of bare feet rhymatically running on old wood planks sounds in the otherwise empty forest. The rushing wind that echoes in her ears tries in vain to wipe the tears from her face- salty paths that end in a drip off her chin.
The soles of her young feet cross the last of the splintered wooden bridge, still yet strong enough to ignore the dull slap of pain. Just a flash, a gray silhouette of a girl- the crystal-blue water with the faded leaves hardly notes her passing.
She's needed this for so long- sweet serenity from the city's endless roars and rumbles.
The rum-a-tum-tum of her fleet feet match the rumbling sound of drums, a nice change from the constant roar of the unresting city she had grown so used to. The city, with its grey walls- prison walls, always keeping you locked inside (she shivered, but she wouldn't have you know that.)
Colored leaves imitating the tones of the sun crunch in her wake as she imagines floating through the forest, leaving all
Zombie Story Chapter 1Chapter 1Zombie Story Chapter 18 years ago in Horror More Like This
Depression sets in right away. It usually is like that with disasters, especially those on such a grand scale as this one. This one, though, isnt like anything anyones ever seen before. No, this one is much larger. This one this is the one that will determine the fate of what this tiny, once blue and peaceful planet will be. Green pastures have long given way to brown decay that envelopes this world. Death looms everywhere. Its not just the things that are dead that are bothersome. Its the ones that are dead, but continue on. Its the ones that are banging profusely against the tatters of the house in which a certain group of people have holed themselves in.
Aryk sat on a wooden crate, listening to the consistent pounding of bodies being slammed against the doors and windows of the heavily fortified house he had been living in for the last couple of weeks now. He had stumbled upon it after narrowly escaping his last place of refuge. There wer
Heated: A L4D Fanfiction"You're such an asshole!"Heated: A L4D Fanfiction4 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Tell me something I don't know, cupcake!"
They had been shouting at each other like this for well over twenty minutes. It had started out as one of their usual arguments. Zoey was right, Nick was wrong; Zoey was wrong, Nick was right. It's this way, not that way! Why the hell would you use a sub-machine gun when you had the power of a hunting rifle in your hands? Pink is a horrible colour on you. So is white. You totally cheated at our poker game last night; you're a conman for god's sake.
"I should have just let the zombies overrun me. Anything's better than having to deal with you," she glared at him from across the safe room, which wasn't very roomy at all. There was a couch, a mini fridge, and some basic supplies, all confined within the very cramped room. It was difficult for Zoey to stay as far away from him as possible when the walls of the room only allowed her to be about a foot away from the conman. Needless to say, she wasn't too thrilled about it.
MuffinsMuffins11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
O my mighty and wondrous muffin!
Thy crenulated sides do me beckon-
Thy delectably succulent stuffin'
Creates a most tasty treat I reckon.
Thy top so brown and so spectacular
And thy chocolate that's so very sweet
Have created my lapse to vernacular-
With irresistable charm thou'rt replete.
The English have perverted thy goodness
With the English muffin as it is called
I think that I shall demand some redress-
Their mad shamelessness has left me appalled.
And now that I have sung thy temptations
I cave and give in to sweet sensations.
I just wanted to be human. Ch. 1 A SPG FanficI just wanted to be human. Ch. 1 A SPG Fanfic3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
"I just wanted to be human." A Steam Powered Giraffe Fanfic
Chapter 1: It starts
Rabbit looked over the bars at the ground below him. Not even a robot could survive falling from this height. Behind him he could hear the clanks as The Spine climbed the ladder, stretching himself and doing two steps at a time. If it wasn't for The Jon, Rabbit wouldn't have had such a good start. But now he was trapped at a dead end. The very top of the space needle, nearly 600 feet above the ground on a tiny platform. Probably not the best place in the world to escape to. He could feel the wind gushing past his face. Rabbit no longer questioned his emotions. This trembling, sickening, dizzying feeling definitely was fear. And with each clank behind his ears, this fear grew.
He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyelids and the bar tightly.
"You were supposed to be the sensible one!" His voice trembling with each syllable. The clanking continued as the Spine marched his way up. "To... to keep me and Jon fr
Of Love and Lightening BugsOf Love and Lightening Bugs4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mommy, I love you so bad
she whispers, with her arms wrapped tightly around me.
her cherub face looks up into mine-
springing auburn curls
and sparkling hazel eyes.
a nose sprinkled with kisses from the sun
the biggest smile you would never want to dim
shared especially with me.
Mommy, can I catch a lightening bug and keep it forever?
her words echo into the diminishing sunset.
I turn away while the words linger for a moment and then fade away
and the lightening bugs dance on the corn tops and stalks of wheat.
She flutters at my feet, much like them
difficult to capture and impossible to contain.
So confident she is, and wistful am I,
I hate to disappoint her, but say anyway-
I'm sorry, little one. Lightening bugs can't live forever.
The Girl That Painted the EarthThere was a girlThe Girl That Painted the Earth3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That painted the earth.
She tried to capture
Its vast beauty
With a mere thought
The girl drew rolling hills
To be colored with
Her brilliant paints.
A stroke could call
Forests to her canvas
With leaves and footprints
Filled with life
Waiting to be created.
She would paint the greens
Of a forgotten meadow.
She thought of blossoms
Brought back with
And royal purples.
She painted snowy mountains
And deep plateaus.
Her sketches showed
And closed caverns.
But sitting back to watch
Her paintings come to life
She realized something
Now obviously clear.
The girl was lonely.
So she began to draw beings
Living and breathing things
To fill the empty gaps
Of her paintings.
Loki and Sigyn [part 2]Loki and Sigyn [part 2]2 years ago in Romance More Like This
WARNING - This story mentions spoilers from Thor: The Dark World.
It had hardly taken Loki any time at all to become used to his role as king under the guise of “Odin.” His impersonation of the former monarch was near perfect, and never was there a sideways glance or was a question raised against the king. Not even Thor suspected a thing, though he was too preoccupied to really notice. Had Loki not given his brother what he wanted? Thor doubted he was truly ready for the throne, claiming he would never be ready. He wanted to protect the Nine Realms as a soldier, and he wanted to be with Jane. All Loki had done was give his consent – or rather, give Odin’s consent.
Loki hardly denied how lucky he had been that Thor had turned down the throne when “Odin” had offered it. For all he knew of his brother and his actions, not even he would have guessed that Thor would not that the throne at such a time. Loki would hardly m
The Sense Of Being IrishAsk any Irish citizen, anywhere in the world, if they're proud to be Irish, and the answer you'll probably get is a resounding yes, or - if you happen to be in Cork - an affirmative grunt. Ask why, and you'd get an evasive answer, or in the case of Cork, grievous bodily harm. The Irish have no idea why they're proud to be Irish.The Sense Of Being Irish7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
The Irish stereotype is partly to blame for this. We feel compelled to become alcoholic, whisky-swilling, pot-bellied, bearded lunatics with a flair for violence. Even within Ireland, there are stereotypes. As my previous jabs at Cork indicate, Corkonians are incomprehensible, brutal, and to be avoided. They're not, really. Or so I would hope. I could be wrong.
But I haven't even started on the question. "The Sense Of Being Irish". What a lovely, multi-faceted question.
What do you call a sense? Do the Irish have six? Sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste and Irish? I don't think so.
It's more to do with attachment to where you were raised, isn't it? A Cavan farm
dear alaina.dear alaina,dear alaina.3 years ago in Letters More Like This
i am not being passive-aggressive. i am not avoiding confrontation or arguments or sensitive subjects so that i won't get upset: i'm writing a letter that i can't imagine you'll see, explaining to you everything that i need you to know.
i'm sorry i'm not better. i'm sorry that i'm not trying. i'm sorry, but i can't, not now. i wish you could understand, without any fear or worry, that i need to destroy myself before i can get better. it's like i'm a phoenix, needing to catch fire and turn to ash before i can be reborn. i need to be the biggest source of pain and misery in my life; i can't let anyone else have the power to hurt me more than i have hurt myself already.
it's not enough to tear myself apart, in every sense that i can. it's not enough to pull strings of skin from the teeth of my razor and clutch toilet paper from the public bathroom to my arm like if i don't, i might die - in all hones
waterbirds in your lungs .collabsometimes the skinwaterbirds in your lungs .collab3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
between my breasts
smells of you-
the sweet, ocean waves
of bodies and release
like ebb and flow
i play the skeleton keys
in the hollows of my nest
recite incantations like bluebirds
threaded through cords. the
shine of my eyes has been replaced
with a metronome
measuring the beat of your
i still have you
and motions like sex
etched into my body
even though you are so far
i spend my time
feeding myself to the sea
in hopes that the salt
will carry me east,
in hopes that my presence
will be enough
for so many weeks
i felt your body fold into mine
like the waves reclaiming
where men are hung and
pupils dotted with lava stones.
there is iodine in the nooks
of my jaw and it filters between
outcroppings of rock
white as pearls.
i breathe inand out
creaking in the
The Red RoadThe Red Road5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
There is a Red Road
That stretches from Cape Town to the Elysium Fields
And on that road there is a pit stop at Robben Island
To a prisoner's cell, prisoner 46664
Where the heart of a hero
Was once born
There is a Red Road
That runs from Berlin to Hades
And on the road there is a pit stop at the Biederitz River
Where the brutal ashes of a man named Adolf
Drift away in the currents
There is a Red Road
That lies between Poland to Zion
And on that road there is a pit stop at Auschwitz
Where the spirits of the dead
Still gather at the Death Wall
There are a million pit stops to be made
On the myriad paths of the interwoven labyrinths
That bind us together and tear us apart
Warning you and me of the potholes & pitfalls
On the Red Road that is the World
Telling us in a whisper "Don't forget it"
Telling us in a prayer "Don't repeat it"
©2010 Sarah Donnelly
Will's ApprenticeRangers ApprenticeWill's Apprentice7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Riding into the gathering grounds had never really made Will nervous before, but things were going to be just a little bit different this year, for this year Will would be given full access to the command tent. For although it has been 15 years since he put on the silver oakleaf, and had entered the command tent many times over the years, this year would be the first time in which he would be considered a senior Ranger. Crowley and Halt had retired from active service at the end of last years gathering, to be replaced by Gilan and Will, Gilan also a former pupil of Halts was also one of the greatest Rangers that had ever come out of the corp, and also one of Wills greatest friends. Crowley and Halt had had no reservations about handing the reigns over to the two who they admired most amongst the Rangers.
Riding through the many green and grey mottled tents, Will nodded to those that greeted him a
BookstoreHeaven smells like someone else's allergies.Bookstore4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ages and pages and dust, packed high to the ceiling
History in a thousand books I'll take the time to read only after I'm done living
A place where I could go a million years and happily never see the sun.
The spines of the old books crack and groan under my fingers as I pry them apart
Pulling their covers open like they were clams
And I am looking for the pearls inside
The stories glittering brighter in black ink and yellow pages than some mere stone ever could.
Ladders reach from floor to ceiling
Stepstools litter the ground
Packed up haphazard against the shelves
By the last patron to reach upwards for the Science Fiction.
Feeling the weight of uncounted words settle a comfortable shawl around my shoulders
It covers my frame lightly and loosely
Warming me body and soul from the inside out
The most comfortable home I know.
I breathe deep without coughing
Turning reverent circles beneath the ceiling-floor shelves
Eyes closed but getting diz
Halt mich fest"Halt mich festHalt mich fest6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
und geh nicht fort!"
Diese Worte spreche ich
in deine Umarmung
in welche sie sich einnisten
um dort zu ruhen
So wie auch ich
der ich Geborgenheit ersehne
in deinem Halt
und sie auch zu finden scheine
Eng an dich geschmiegt
fühle ich still
und möchte nicht loslassen
dich sanft streicheln
und mich wiegen
Halt mich fest
und geh nicht fort
Gedanken eines AugenaufschlagsDenkst du manchmal an mich?Gedanken eines Augenaufschlags4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Lächelst du dann dabei?
Ein Lächeln nur für mich?
Ich wünsche es mir.
Wenn ich nachts wach liege
und einfach an dich denke,
möchte ich das Herzklopfen spüren
Ich will mich nicht dem Schlaf hingeben,
meine Gedanken nicht so leicht hergeben,
sie in Dunkelheit ertränken und aufgeben.
A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were a pair of red shiny shoes living in a boxful of dreams, on cloud-coated linens. One May day, a little girl found them sleeping next to each other, and she loved them so much that she took them out for an afternoon walk, sometimes tituppy, sometimes gingerly, on the sundressed alleys. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were cheerful, as they had never breathed such a crisp air before, and the chill of those spring days, after a good sturdy rain, was daintly tickling their soles, growing goosebumps on their skin.
The little girl was bursting with fidgetness. When she stopped to bathe in a tiny oasis, she briskly took off her shoes and left them on the dewy grass. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were slightly afraid, as gloomy spiders and frowning mosquitoes were tamelessly rumbling around them. They cuddled tightly, to make the fear go away, like salt in a desert storm. The fear started to vanish itself, as the two realized that they were not alone. They were a p
SteadfastSteadfast4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He stands straight and tall
Shoulders at right angles
Cast from strongest,
in his hand-painted face
His acrylic uniform
is crisp, clean
fresh from the box
He's ready to serve
protect and defend
who thinks the soldier's just one
(which he is)
and not only that,
that the courageous toy
is damaged goods
(which he is)
Where there's supposed to be two
there is only one
his missing leg
fuels him to try harder
to prove he's not so damaged
as everyone thinks,
to prove he's better than
all of those millions
of whole soldiers.
But to the pretty girl
in the paper dress
and point shoes
he already is.
Love Me DoProsper was feeling mildly awkward. He knew that it was expected, routine even, to meet his girlfriend's parents and family, but it didn't make the situation any less nerve-wracking. He had endured the interrogation from Blaire's father about his life/plans/job/future, her brothers attempting to intimidate him, and her little sister giggling over his accent, and was now convinced that he never wanted to go through anything of the sort again.Love Me Do5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Blaire and Prosper were now sitting cross-legged on her old bed with the door wide open, because, as Blaire had put it, both of them behind closed doors would make her father, Tim, "uncomfortable". Prosper was quite sure that he didn't want to make her dad, a large, well-muscled fire-fighter, any form of nervous at all. Especially since her father and brothers seemed to think he needed to be glared at routinely- despite the inevitable warning he had received from them about being with Blaire.
"I know what we can do tonight," Blaire said