TFS: Trapped Within - Chap2
A Few Weeks Later
The city was dark.
Shadows hung over the ruins of the capital, which was stained in blood. The sun was no more than a smear of forgotten brightness in the sky. It barely managed to light the world through the thick, choking smog that clung in the air and drifted through the cobbled streets. Dark silence lingered in every corner and wrapped itself around the crumbling buildings and ancient towers like the dying heat of a fire. Shadow moss spread over the alleys and passages and coated the ground in an unnatural black grass.
Wind whistled through the long-bare trees and howled over the hills surrounding the city. Sand whisked up from the barren landscape and swirled high into the already polluted sky. The deathly breeze told stories of pain, misfortune and betrayal.
It was a forgotten world.
Rantil's mind was caught in the gale and his thoughts blew from alley to alley, from high tower to crumbled ruin. He knew that he was caught inside a dream and as much as
Resolution Diary2007Resolution Diary2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Make first million after starting own business.
Applied for a loan. Declined due to excessive account activity. Note: Constant purchasing of rare (albeit mint) wicker chairs is not conducive to bank balance. Wife insistent on selling wicker chairs to find money to start business.
Bought new donut recipe book. Learnt how to make category hard donut, 'Diamond Swizzler'. Delma loves them.
James offered to lend the money if he can become a business partner. Potential.
First million still a long way off. Wife still nagging.
Spent savings on replacing the roof of the conservatory when neighbor's tree uprooted in the November storm.
Update: Dogs should never be fed over two donuts a day. Next Year's Resolution likely…? Find enough money to take Delma to the vets. And make more realistic resolution idea.
Find an appropriate business idea.
Welcome!Proofreading and Editing for LiteratureWelcome!2 years ago in Personal More Like This
Hello there, my name is Ed and I work as a proofreader of prose literature here on deviantART. I've been editing short stories and novels for many years, but have only recently discovered how many pieces there are uploaded to dA. So far, I've critiqued over 200 pieces.
I will critique:
I will not critique:
-Fan fiction (unless I've been contacted and I know of the subject)
Here are a few examples of my work:
Betwixt His Study Part I by !sherlockholmes34
The Nova Series: Rift ch. 1 by ~SeventhRain
TSD - One by *XRosewaterX
The Fallen Star: Chapter 1ONEThe Fallen Star: Chapter 12 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The faint glow of the moon and of the stars shone over the Woodlands of Liaport. Shadows crept between the huddling trees that rose and fell with the rugged land; small clifftops, rising crests and sunken valleys were remnants of the Valkar Mountains many leagues to the north.
Darkness shrouded the damp, soil floor, giving the shrieks and howls of lurking creatures full reign over the otherwise silent night. The never-ending fight for survival battled on through the woodland groves and raging rapids of the River Owk. Liaport was ancient. And so were the animals that lived there.
The already freezing wind sent a sudden chill through the wood. Unseen hands ravaged treetops and snatched away the withering leaves of the toughest of trees. The Triali season, the coldest season of the year, was quickly approaching and it wouldn’t be long before the forest was buried beneath a deep layer of ice and snow.
One tree, however, blossomed in the depths of the woodlands and was thri
Reflection of Humanity: 01 Pivotal BeginningsReflection of Humanity: 01 Pivotal Beginnings3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I. Pivotal Beginnings
"Ah, why do they say mankind anyway? We are not all the manly kind, are we? No, no we are most certainly not." This was all spoken in a heavy accent by the younger of the scientists within this particular lab. There were no smiling faces from his humor. Regardless, he blessed the silent room with that youthful laughter.
"That is quite enough, Jovich," spoke the fiery-haired woman which the young man stood near. "One would think you would have at least some sense of respect around such company, mind what it is we are in the midst of completing here." She was also young, though not as much so as her ridiculous assistant. All the joking aside, the young man was indeed the prodigy of the great minds present. Alas, for the time being, he was only trusted with the safekeeping of the tools which were used by each in perfecting the mass laid out b
ImagineImagine.Imagine2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You are six years old. Your sister is four years older than you. She comes into the room, shouting to you about an 'amazing idea' she's had. You're young. You don't know that really: she's an idiot. It takes you another few years to figure that one out, anyway.
She explains how plastic bags can be used to slide around if you put them on your feet. You agree, and you think it is one of the most revolutionary ideas you've ever heard. It's something you'll remember for the rest of your life. You start to get excited. You are six years old.
Your mum keeps a drawer in a small utility room, filled with bags from Safeways and some more expensive, high quality bags from M&S (because your grandma just came to visit). You start the afternoon by pulling each other across the conservatory with them on your feet. It's fun; it's exciting. It's not at all dangerous. It's an 'amazing idea'.
But then you realize you have more than enough bags to cover the entire floor. Your excitement builds.
First Day of School."Miss, miss!"First Day of School.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Sit down Gerald. Waving your hand and jumping around will not make me choose you quicker. Everybody will get a turn. Now, Natalie."
"Stand at the front then. There. Nice big voice."
"whatididonmyholidays by Natalie Marsh. What I did on my holidays we went to the beach it was nice and su....sunny. I had ice cream and I went on a boat. The boat was nice. The sea splashed up and we all got wet. Then there was a shark and it ated us and we all got dead TheEnd."
"Very good Natalie. Well done. And you spoke nice and clearly too, but try to be a bit louder next time. Now who's next? No, Gerald, I will not tell you again. Sit down. Now, Kyle. Your turn."
"What I did on my holidays by Kyle age six. What I did, I went to the zoo. I went... no, wait, I know,
The TimesI was printed on the evening of November 27th, 2008, just as the weather was turning from chilly to cold. I was tomorrow's news. At the moment I came off the press, I told the future. I knew things before the rest of the world; it was wonderful. I knew what my purpose was: to inform as many people as possible about the world's happenings.The Times2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
As I was put to bed, bound against my brothers and sisters, I dreamt of being passed around a construction site, making sure all the workers were aware of which sports team triumphed, and which celebrity was getting a divorce. I dreamt that corporate peons debated over politics, and the state of the economy and which policies would be most effective in fixing the existing problems. I slept contently, snuggled warm in the middle of a stack, ready to be shipped out the next day and sold to whoever wanted me.
The next morning was cold and blustery. I was so excited about being sold that I allowed the wind to ruffle my pages, since I couldn't move on my o
A Night at Pinetop's TavernSomewhere in the back alleys of the city's older section there was a crumbling brick building that had been around since before ragtime music was popular. Hanging above a faded green door that led down to the building's cellar was a wooden sign, and despite the peeling paint, you could still make out the bar's name: Pinetop's Tavern. Nobody really knew when Pinetop's first opened; local folks would tell you it had been there since time began, and the world had grown up around it. It was one of those places where the lighting was always dim and the cigarette smoke never dissipated and the cloud you were breathing now had probably been around since W. C. Handy was still alive.A Night at Pinetop's Tavern2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pinetop's Tavern was a blues joint, and it had been around almost as long as blues music itself. Blues music was a lot simpler than most kinds of musicsimpler chords, simpler lyrics, and most blues musicians couldn't read sheet music. The genre was born on some unknown plantation in the forgotten Deep
Escape VelocityF = G(m1m2)/r2Escape Velocity2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Black – true black – is the absence of light. Darkness is defined by what it is not, by the lack of something else. When we say a black hole, we truly mean that; black. Blacker than black. An absence of not only light, but of time, distance, anything.
The night was scary when I was little. I hated the dark, but couldn’t bear to sleep so long as the light was on, any light, burning on the other side of my eyelids. I used to have nightmares about dark things in dark corners, shadowy figures with shadowy fingers trailing along my spine. I always woke up cold and fumbling frantically for the lamp, but the aura of light just made the shadows deeper and I turned it off quickly.
Black holes are dead stars. Graves. Tombs that bury light, bury it so deep, swallow entire suns, planets, galaxies. Dead stars take all the light with them like rich men spending fortunes on alabaster monuments and marble headstones.
There are four unmarked graves
The Dinner Hour"We need a refill on salt shakers at table two, a fresh ketchup bottle on tables three, four, and six, and for god's sake, see if we've got a spare pacifier for the kid at table five." Marcheline's lawyer-like voice rattles off instructions faster than anyone can understand them. Taking over her shift is like diving headfirst into an ocean current traveling at a million miles an hour.The Dinner Hour2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I nod after every ten or so words; after sounding off eight commands in under a breath, Marcheline gasps, "Thank god you always show up for your shift on time." Then she flings off her waiter belt like it was on fire and throws it on the rung. I watch her dash out of the back room like she's being chased.
Poor Marcheline doesn't always do well with the evening rush hours, when anything can happen.
Already in my uniform, I make sure of three final things before I step out into the fray that is Elliot's Diner at 6 PM: 1) my nametag is straight and my name tag, because once I grabbed Pedro's nametag a
CharlieWe're all just kids playing a part. That's what it boils down to.Charlie2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I'm the kid who gets to play hitman today. The other kids, they're playing guard. Hands in their pockets, feeling up their guns. Makes them feel big. Calms them down. A security blanket in a holster.
That's what it boils down to. Dressing for the part, having the right props. If you're running around in your street clothes, you're a thug, a hood, a gangster. You put on a ninety-dollar suit you picked up at Ross, and all the sudden you're a mobster, a wiseguy, paisano.
You're still just playing Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, Thugs and Mafiosi.
Rule of three. Say it enough times, and you'll convince yourself of it.
Look at yourself in the mirror, jacket and tie and shoulder holster. Tell yourself, "I'm a badass." Wash, rinse, repeat until it sticks. Get into character and stand around, chest puffed out, one hand on your gun, one on your cock.
Repeat the lines you learned watching other people pretend t
Gus Number FiveGus Number FiveGus Number Five2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jenna and Cindy filled their mouths with watermelon seeds, spitting them fast and hard until the air swarmed with seeds like shiny black dive-bombing gnats. “My seeds are winning,” twelve year old Cin yelled, her thin body tense and urgent with victory.
Jenna just kept spitting seeds. Eight years old, she already knew the seeds that flew the farthest would be Cin's no matter what.
Jenna puckered her mouth preparing for another losing bombardment. Suddenly she paused, lips plump and pouting as the mouth of a painted candy box cupid. Spitting the seeds into her palm, she stared at them for a moment, chewing the end of her pigtail. Then anxious with inspiration, she trotted into the house and minutes later reappeared hugging a fishbowl.
Carefully placing the bowl on the steps, she solemnly stared at the rattled goldfish who darted and wiggled his copper penny of a body. But when Jenna scattered her handful of watermelon seeds into the water, the goldfish paused
Midnight Stars Midnight starsMidnight Stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
flurry through the night.
Like the glimmer in your eye.
The twinkle from your soul of beauty
radiates the blackened space
around my lonely
The Solipsist's LotThere's something about yourself that you don't know. You probably don't remember the circumstances very well, but I do. If you enjoy things the way they are, if you revel in even the smallest speck of ignorance, you need not read ahead. I won't force you. But from what I know of you, you don't like secrets. Especially not when they are about you.The Solipsist's Lot3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You see, when you were born, so at once was everyone else. Your mother, she sprang into existence, just like that, the instant your tiny infant brain achieved the smallest semblance of self-awareness. Woven out of the ether, she remembered everything that never happened, and she looked down at you, cradled and squirming in her loving arms.
"Oh," she said. "So here is life."
The doctor was there too, although a moment before if there ever was a moment before he was not. He just nodded, smiling assuredly, and said, "Here is the beginning."
no wonder it took him 1455 pageswhen i was seven years old, a group of kids in my grade threw rocks at me for liking neopets more than webkinz. from then on, i was convinced i knew what hatred meant. but i don’t know how to describe it to the little girl who sits in the corner of my womb and in ten years might call me mommy and ask for help on dividing the world into black and white.no wonder it took him 1455 pages2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
would i point to the churches with their bigotry? to the cotton fields of the south in the 1800s? to the classrooms of modern day america? would i tell her about how the jews stood in straight lines, waiting to die, with fear in their eyes and faith in their hearts? or would i try and describe the sound tyler clementi’s body made when it hit the water of the hudson river after he jumped from the george washington bridge?
would i point to myself and say, “i am hatred, i am hatred to others. i am lying and cheating and stealing and coveting and jealousy and hubris. i am the idea of every time someone wants to kill someone
open letter to my first holy communion teacherdear miss bond,open letter to my first holy communion teacher2 years ago in Letters More Like This
you may or may not remember me. you taught me religion at my local church, we called it First Holy Communion but i always secretly thought it was brainwashing. you were so passionate about it, you seemed to make it palatable. it is only in later years, seeing what religion is, that i have recanted my faith. but you - when i think of you, i still feel my fingers twitching to bless the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. i think of the lace squares that you would give us, your children; your flock, when we learnt a prayer. parrot this, child, and you shall be given pretty, clean edged doilies. white lace, it was rough on our fingertips. religion bought us and we shall have the steady thudding of Our Father in our minds from the rest of our lives. you made it a blessing to believe. the reality is; it is a curse. i hope you can never see that.
i have been thinking about the concept of sin. we are all born with original sin. i hear that purgatory is outdated, now? that's a sham
Suffocate“I didn’t want him,” she says. “I wanted something, something I saw in the eyes of Libby, Sam, Sandi, and Agnes. Something that would have made our new world, our safe world, a home. Children were a part of that world and so I found myself a child. Perhaps, I thought, I would love him and everything would fall into place. Perhaps with a child I could be content with safety, and normality, and a world without knives taped on mop heads.” A cold smile. “I still catch myself thinking that. I still think that maybe tomorrow will be the day where I can fall asleep with the lights on.”Suffocate2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Carmen’s features are stark and cold; like the chiseled lines of Soviet propaganda etched onto an icy street corner. A straight decided nose, high sharp cheekbones, and thin pinched lips. Her eyes are black. We sit together in a small, bare walled, room on a pair of fold up chairs.
I frown. “You mean off?”
“No. I mean on. During the war
A Reason to LiveIf only she had the guts to actually do it, to just leap among the cold waves and sink in death among the fish. She breathed in the smell and taste of saltwater, and water sprays hit her face, neck, and chest. She shivered slightly in the breeze from the waves, but she wasn’t really bothered by the chill. What weighed on her mind was something much deeper than the weather.A Reason to Live2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A pang of apprehension penetrated her heart as she envisioned her body being plunged into the water and weighted down by the strong waves. She thought about what it would be like to gulp in mouthful after mouthful of water, choking and never feeling any relief, but she didn’t think the pain could be any worse than what she was already dealing with.
“Aimée!” The young woman moved her arms in circular motions as she tried to keep her balance. Her mother’s call startled her, and for a brief moment she thought God might be
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
The Fallen Star: Chapter 2TWOThe Fallen Star: Chapter 22 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Several Days Later
Late evening took its hold over the land and the sky began to darken. Truaine plunged into obscurity for yet another night.
As the lingering light finally seeped away, a ravage of burook flew against the setting sun, reached out towards the silent clouds and soared away into the distance. Once again, darkness spread through the eerie hollows and lumbering hills of Liaport. And with the quickly approaching shadows, the fearsome predators of the night could skulk back out into the open.
But tonight, there was more to stalk than just edapar, buckwri and vunaki.
Three men, lost and afraid, trudged through the wild shadows. Darkness was not only gathering all round them, but gathering in their hearts. Long had their journey been since they left the city, and the endless nights they'd spent hauling themselves through the gloom preyed on their thoughts. Each hour in Liaport took them further from their past, towards an even more dangerous, unknown future. But, e
A Name You Can Trust Indignant? Disgruntled? Need an attorney who won't back down (no matter how many mafia hit men are on your trail)? Need to sue the smirk off that jerk who dared to diagnose you with anger issues? Tired of “justice” getting in the way of the benefits that you deserve? If you want passionate, aggressive, and ruthlessly persistent legal representation, it’s time you called Winier Trust, an attorney who will stop at nothing (nothing!) to insure you win your case.A Name You Can Trust2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Winier Trust is more than just an attorney; he's your personal advocate. Trust works beside you not only as a legal representative, but as a close and caring friend.
"When I first called Mr. Trust to handle my divorce case, I was in such a state,” says teacher Margery Williams. “Mr. Trust was a bastion of sage wisdom and compassion. He put me at ease from the moment he arrived. Panicked, I once called Mr. Trust in the middle of the night and asked him for his guidance. No more
FiftyPlease understand: I do not wantFifty2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
The Price of Dying“I want to be interred after I die,” Mr. Peters said. He made that clear to his family while he was still lucid, before old age and illness rendered him unintelligible. Seventy wasn’t that old, but he recognized the symptoms that were creeping up on his ailing body – the aches, the fatigue, the feeling of helplessness and despair. Despite his daughter’s attempts to assuage his concerns, he sensed his own mortality.The Price of Dying2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The worst part about dying, Mr. Peters thought, was what happened afterwards. Even since he was a small boy, he had been afraid of fire. He could never forget the scorching heat of the orange flames searing his skin, the dark billowing smoke entering his nostrils. The time that his house burned down, the fire almost took him with it. How ironic then, to escape the fire only to be fed into it after death.
So one day, he sat his son and daughter down after dinner. “I want to be buried whole,” he said, emphasizing the