A Shower and a Change"Ah, damn. God damn."A Shower and a Change2 years ago in Writing More Like This
The stain was small, no larger than a coin. It fell near his right hip, nestled in the dip between crotch and thigh. Still, it was nauseating. Paul stripped off the trousers and walked to the sink, hoping the sliver of hotel soap would take out the spot.
He began running the hot water and paused, staring at the vomit. Resisting the urge to gag, he grazed his fingers over the stain. It was purely liquid and slick like dish soap, but the sickly brown could only be vomit. He slowly raised his hand to his face and sniffed his fingers. Nothing. It seemed, for a moment, odorless. But no, he suddenly caught a faint scent of metal. Like a cup full of coins. Or a bloodied nose.
"Shit!" A stream of blood ran down his nostrils, over his lip and down his chin. Paul dropped the trousers to the bathroom floor and watched the b
The Host With the MostPaul staggered out into the early morning fog like a drunkard.The Host With the Most2 years ago in Writing More Like This
He hunched into the raised lapels of this too-thin jacket and wandered away from the hotel, disoriented, shivering--panic gnawing at his gut like a cannibal. "I need help," he thought, "but where?" The nearest hospital was the obvious answer, but the thought of what the doctors would do filled his mind with images of hospital beds with straps, extended isolation with no answers and needles piercing his flesh.
The mass on his thigh was growing--that was certain. Paul could feel it writhing and pushing against his flesh as he walked. Lost in his fears, he never noticed the black, windowless van pull up next to him until he heard the van door slide back violently, and rough hands reached out and pulled him out of the grey London mist into darkness.
He awoke with a headache, disoriented. His eyes would not focus and he began to panic, his heart pounding in his ch
Odyssey II Submission: Chapter OneCHAPTER ONE: WORLD'S ENDOdyssey II Submission: Chapter One2 years ago in Writing More Like This
God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December. J.M. Barrie
The young redhaired woman was admiring herself in a full-length mirror. The vintage dress she was modeling reflected her fondness for the antique. She still laughed to think of how as a teenager she'd wandered from Victoria Station all the way down to the World's End area of the King's Road, somehow naively thinking that some glittering remnant of a 1960s storefront would magically appear.
A casual observer might have placed her in her late 20s or early 30s, with a sly smile that suggested a rare intelligence bubbling just below the surface. It was there to note or no; most did not and would discover that they'd badly misjudged her abilities. There were countless fresh-faced office boys who, upon attempting to engage her in some local gossip or office smut, found themselves galloping away with their tails (or other parts) between
Dreams of the DeepPaul's whole world was spinning. The Proxitol made it incredibly difficult for him to think clearly. Maya? Yes, her name was Maya. She had told him it would only be a few days, that the thing inside would dissolve. She'd been wrong, and she'd been surprised that she'd been wrong, not that it mattered. Resting his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet in the cell he called a room, PaulDreams of the Deep2 years ago in Writing More Like This
could almost laugh about how this all seemed like some ridiculous dream. But the pain, the disorientation, and the feeling of...something inside...assured him it was anything but.
The growth had started spreading again, but it was different this time. The iridescent scales had formed
patches around his hips, wrapped around his waist, and then branched out into two separate lines that
ran up and gathered around his shoulder blades, sprouting opaque sacs.
That night he dreamed of an ocean, somewhere far, far away. Something large and shapeless, sparkling like a star-covered
Skin Glowing From WithinLysanna felt a sudden change in her breathing, and knew than that something had happened to her Progeny. Though the organism was still very small, she shared a psychic link with it that would remain as it transferred from host to host. When the growth cycle was complete, the bond she had with the tiny bit of life would be severed as it emerged from the host with its own consciousness.Skin Glowing From Within2 years ago in Writing More Like This
She looked in the mirror at her gaunt face, the colors of her life force faded and barely moving under the surface of her tightly stretched, translucent skin. Her time in this world was diminishing and with every dying moment she hoped that her progeny would take hold in it's new host. She had tried transferring her progeny to the humans many times before, and felt the twinge of pain as it was violently rejected, leaving the host in throes of agony as it expelled the last bits of the strange organism. But this time, she was hopeful, for the progeny had thrived longer in t
Odyssey II with Clive BarkerFAQOdyssey II with Clive Barker2 years ago in DeviantART Announcements More Like This
Collaborate, Publish, Write & Illustrate
CliveBarker starts us off with the Prologue for Odyssey II and selects the submissions for the final books. The ultimate creative challenge to produce the ultimate deviantART book.
All Guided with the Spectral Hand of Clive Barker.
Every Friday Lit submissions for the current chapter close - Chosen chapter revealed
A bloody coincidence.London was calling, but her once sensuous voice failed to tempt Paul. An angry migraine pounded in time with the lazy bass of a stereo located somewhere in the hostel, and not for the first time Paul cursed the wafer thin films of plaster that passed as walls. He could have afforded a better place he should have but Paul had hoped to reignite his love affair with London by returning to the place where it all started. Unfortunately, somehow in the last thirteen years, this once fair succubus of a city had transformed into a sleazy page six call girl. It was with a deep sense of irony Paul realised that, despite its cold welcome, London had still managed to get his pants off.A bloody coincidence.2 years ago in Writing More Like This
Having discovered the patch of vomit left by the redheaded man, Paul had quickly stripped off the offending item of clothing. At first he had considered washing his trousers, but in the end he had simply thrown them out. No matter how thoroughly the trousers were scrubbed, Paul knew they wou
Odyssey Propulsion 7Odyssey Propulsion 72 years ago in DeviantART Announcements More Like This
Odyssey Propulsion 7
He who birthed the strange tale into our world with a spurt of kaleidoscopic intergalactic vomit has now decided its end. CliveBarker has chosen his favorite Chapter Eight to bring the multi-imagined Hydra-headed beast of a story to the end. All that remains is Chapter Eight illustration submissions remaining open for the next two weeks. And with the perfect visual, Odyssey II: Propulsion will become another hallmark in deviantART history.
So many writers and artists from around the world contributed amazing gifts of their wildest imaginations, collaborating with each other and offering suggestions and encouragement to