Special Soups Soup
Special Soups Soup
They called him Soups. Soups used to live in an unused basement that was accessible via a small window on street level. It was only a few corners away from Soup's favorite restaurant. Many people ate there but not all finished their plates. A very nice chef worked in the kitchen there. Soups liked him because every night after closing time, he would make him chicken soup. Hence the name: Soups. He'd throw some leftover meat – he knew chicken was Soup's favorite – in leftover soup, along with some leftover pasta, rice or bread, and put it outside in a plastic box. Soups loved the leftover chicken soups. It always tasted delicious, but none tasted like the other.
Some days, Soups knew he could afford to wait until evening for his main dish, the soup, to be served, sometimes along with a short pat on the head from the chef's tired hand. But some days, the chef didn't work, so Soups walked between the tables on the terrace looking for guests accidentally drop
Ashfur: Before FireHonestly, I don't see any sense in saying anything to her about it. She was the one who betrayed me. I did nothing wrong. I don't get what she sees in Brambleclaw. He is the son of the freaking evilest warrior ever lived. Well, almost. I shudder as I think of Scourge. I flex my white claws as I picture that son of a fox Bone ripping the life out of my father, Whitestorm, then Tigerclaw murdering my mother to use as bait. Brambleclaw's father. I realize with a shocking twist of pain. I look up at the sky to see if Starclan still see me, only to find clouds cloaking the sky in mysterious shades of gray. Sighing, I stop my search for the stars.Ashfur: Before Fire5 years ago in Drama More Like This
Maybe it will all be over soon. I think as I slink up the hill that led to the shore of the lake. I stop in my tracks, picking up two familiar scents. Squirrelflight. I pulled my lips over my teeth. That fox-hearted coward. I don't need to check the other scent- it was obvious. I peek out
Twisted- IntroPale light bled through black leafless trees, touching the thick, white mist snaking through them. Dead grass carpeted the ground, waving slightly in a breeze tainted with the scents of prey. Prey, of course, that would never be caught, much less found.Twisted- Intro5 years ago in Horror More Like This
Lying in the middle of an abandoned clearing was a cat. Black stripes covered his small dark gray body. Deep crimson stained his chest, though there was no wound there.
Suddenly his ice-blue eyes flew open and he took in a heaving gulp of air. He stared with wide eyes at the area surrounding him. W-Where am I? He wondered. He stood on shaky legs and looked around. His hard-muscled body was tense, the fur on his shoulders beginning to spike. He called out into the shadows, his voice strong and clear. "Hello?"
The resounding crack of a long being stepped on alerted him to someone-or something, because who knew what was in this StarClan-forsaken place-sneaking up on him. He spun around, wickedly curved claws glinting and a deadly sn
SoldierThe soldier stood and faced God,Soldier3 years ago in Personal More Like This
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you d
hope is a poisonous thingand i wishhope is a poisonous thing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from the bottom of my
that i'll find
that i hate
more than myself.
Why Can't I See?Why Can't I See?4 years ago in Drama More Like This
I was at my camp ,home ,safe ,and going to be with my family soon, my mate and my two kits. There was a fire in the camp two sunrises ago. After I got out twolegs caught me, but later my clanmates rescued me:
My clanmates started to take off the twoleg thing that was bound across my eyes making me blind. Feeling the nips of their teeth at my skin made me flinch ,but I stood still. I clawed at the ashy ground waiting for them to finally take it off. My clanmates bit and tore at the twoleg thing. The twoleg thing came off easily and it fell to the ground.
My clan gasped! But I could not see what they were gasping at, the thing was still across my eyes. I got to my feet and whirled around trying to find what they were gasping at I could feel the dust swirling around me and cats running.
I said "What!? Whats wrong!?" They all went silent, making my neck fur bristle as I felt their eyes beat down on me.
Then after the tension started to lower I said "I thought you took the twoleg
into the deepAudio version over thisaway.into the deep3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the world will crumble, darling, but we will watch the stars--
watch the coasts curl up at the edges and the foam-slick sea drag them under
and history will bloom in brass and copper nebulas,
untainted by the tortured earth and its pleading
flecks of ash below.
but we will watch the stars
watch the galaxy unwind, spirals stringing out
the taste of ozone and plasticities.
the heaving sea will recede--the glaciers
pour their hearts out
the dunes rise up to the sated horizon.
will watch the stars.
and the hungering infernos hold no sympathy.
MistakeTrust is such a delicate thing,Mistake3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like a new bud,
Bursting out of the snow,
Fragile and easily broken.
The winter's wind taunting it so,
The snow about it threatening to encase it within its icy grip,
The bud holds on.
Till the sun's warm rays vanish,
The warmth that gave the bud such shelter and strength,
Ripped away from it,
Leaving it with no hope.
The frozen fingers within the snow reach,
Surrounding the new born bud within its tomb,
And with one flick,
It could break within a million frozen pieces that cannot be mended.
I give you this image to depict how easily trust can be born,
And how it can be shattered.
Take care of the trust you have,
And that is given to you.
You may give it to the wrong person,
Who holds your trust within their own icy grip,
Taunting it with mockery,
And letting it slip through their fingers,
Shattering that fragile part of you.
When we trust,
We are making ourselves vulnerable to someone,
It takes a strong and good person to appreciat
The Pitch (A Satire)The PitchThe Pitch (A Satire)3 years ago in Art Features More Like This
(A Satire About On-Spec Freelance Work)
(The following text is not mine. It was originally published on the no longer available kampagnenstart.de, then re-posted in the forum of the Illustratoren Organisation e.V. where I found it and translated it from German into English)
It was one of those long, depressing winter Sundays. The television program consisted only of crap interrupted by other crap, and the sun was shining brightly. So brightly that I could no longer ignore the dark stains in the corners of my room wall. It had been ten years since the walls had last seen fresh paint. I decided to leave the painting to a real professional this time instead of coloring my own clothes white.
The following Monday I looked up telephone numbers of various painters, took my phone and called the first number.
Steppmüller Wall Painters and Stucco Plaster
the consequences of walking in circlesThe lady wore black and her eyes shone gold,the consequences of walking in circles3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
veiled face and veiled intentions, a smile
in her right hand, a dagger in her left.
Slicing with either in confident stride
like the sea-breeze slices across the morning air
and the ocean of her heart bled,
beckoning with wave after wave of depths untold.
When first I gazed upon lascivious lips, I pined
for the days of old, I dreamed of songbirds.
I spoke in languages forgotten. (or maybe never learned.)
I learned quickly the dark plays tricks on the mind.
She spoke, her voice was a shadow on the night's breeze
carried away on a landslide of eluvium. Her teeth were sharp,
and strangely intoxicating. Her scent, like gentlest whispers,
spoke to me of nurture and reminded me of death.
Her pupils were impossibly large. She smiled,
and I felt my will unfold like petals and fall away like leaves.
She stripped me of my outer bark, it fell away in clods of excuses.
I was adrift in an illusion of confusion. And her final wispy words
still echo in wha
AwayI want to fly away,Away3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
up, in the sky.
down, back to earth.
I want to go.
Away, anywhere, nowhere, somewhere.
Leave, let go, live.
I want to fly away,
somewhere I can stay.
Lasting Impressions.It crossed my mindLasting Impressions.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And lingered there
Like footprints in concrete
It invaded my heart
Made it home
Like a bird nesting
It lifted my soul
On waxen wings
I flew too close
Now I ask myself
My eyes closed
Was it worth it?
Hide YourselfDon't let the light touchHide Yourself3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your opened eyes
Sightless, there's never been such
Vibrant, open skies.
There's no one around.
You don't have to hide,
You won't be found.
In me you may confide.
Pull off that horrid mask
Imposed by our empty society
(It's an arduous, painful task;
Not often performed in sobriety.)
Let shine that inner fire
Of your whole being entire
Let yourself be truly known
(You might find you're not so alone.)
Break the chains of expectation,
Rise above your assigned station.
Free yourself from isolation.
Become your own creation.
Why hide yourself?
CompassionIt does not do to hurt one another,Compassion3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For one is to all a brother.
Pain is an isolation
From all human relation.
To each other, we are all bound;
Through each other, our identities found.
No lone man may be whole,
For loneliness withers the soul.
Compassion so desperately needed
(By kindness it is seeded.)
No regard for violence
Complete and utter silence!
In the place of global outcry,
A great, resigned, societal sigh!
Where did our care go?
Did we forget, we reap what we sow?
There's some strange illusion of separation,
Perpetuated by each and every nation.
(When did compassion come into conflation
With this ridiculous conflagration?)
It brings to one a sense of elation
This wonderful sensation
This exuberant feeling, that of
Helping and healing those you love.
...Why did we ever let it fade away?
What Not to Do at a ConventionEDIT: Leaving for convention! Won't have much internet access until Sunday night.What Not to Do at a Convention4 years ago in Personal More Like This
Next week, I am heading off to Columbus, Ohio, to attend the Ohayocon anime convention. I am super excited! Are any of you guys going? I'd love to say hi.
I've been to 3 conventions thus far (on the seller side), and I've had a great time. I've experienced many pleasant and funny moments as well as a few creepy and rude ones. I'd really like to share some of the funniest/weirdest/rudest moments with you, under guise of a list:
What not to do at a convention
advice for browsers and buyers alike
Do not keep your condoms in your wallet. There may come a time when you wish to purchase something, and out comes your condom, plopping right on top of the artist's prints. This was, hands down, the funniest thing that I ever witnessed at a convention. While I am really happy that you use protection, please keep it in a secure spot, to avoid any kind of emb
RequiemAs we ride into battle,Requiem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wonder, "Is this our salvation?"
Charging into the fray,
"Is this my last day?"
Slaughtered like so many cattle
Is this our damnation?
One rattling, shuddering breath
Before that merciful death.
"Spirit cleansed and virtue reborn."
Comforting words for those who mourn.
Lies told, solemn oaths sworn
"Damned be those who scorn."
Let us end this devilish enterprise
That which has stolen so many lives
In the name of land and resources
And these pitiful, imaginary political discourses.
Let us be able to say
That the hell called war;
That it is no more,
It ends this day!
pressure.she was cracked in places only she could feel, and where the blood could only be tasted, and not seen.pressure.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her lips, fingertips and inside her chest. she learned that there are certain body parts prone to being cut or bruised, and her white laced knees could attest to that. but there comes a time when cutting your leg on the coffee table or pinching your stomach with your belt buckle, isn't an accident anymore. its something more, and you know it is. but you can go so long without ever admitting it to yourself, and even longer for anyone else.
Artist Intent vs Fan CriticismsThis has been a subject I've been interested in for years, and one which I personally struggle with on a near constant basis: Artist's intent versus fan criticisms. Before we begin I just want to make this clear that this journal is NOT about "ignoring criticisms" or any sort of endorsement of such an action. I'm gonna be accused of it, of course, but I just wanted to get that out of the way right now.Artist Intent vs Fan Criticisms3 years ago in Personal More Like This
As I've been observing fan interactions over the years I've noticed a severe increase in a sense of entitlement: IE: that if you love something enough you have a "right" to force the creators to change their content to suit your personal preferences. We saw this play out to the extremes this past summer with the Mass Effect 3 ending debacle, and we see it play out to a much lesser extent here on DA quite a bit.
Artists need feedback and criticisms to grow and improve their work, but at what point does it move beyond offering suggestions to help an artist improve to outright de
Her.I hate this. You have no idea how much I hate this. This lonely feeling that builds up inside, creating this dark isolation that keeps me caged up, alone with my thoughts. I see the way my friend looks at his girl, and the way she looks at him. Love. It's perfect. He'll wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear "Hey, you're beautiful. But you already knew that." And I know, that that's the kind of love that I desire. To be with the perfect girl. To wrap my arms around her and whisper lovely things into her ear. I want to hold her hand when we go on walks and talk in our personal inside jokes that only bring us closer. I want to have those phone calls, late at night, where we fall asleep still talking on the phone. I want to slow dance with her in the rain, and then looks into her beautiful eyes, whisper "I love you" and then lean in for a kiss. I want to be able to cook with her, take naps with her, take care of her when she's sick, lonely, scared. I want to be her protecter, herHer.3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Repetition is RepetitiousRepetition is great for practice.Repetition is Repetitious3 years ago in Personal More Like This
Repetition is great for learning.
Repetition teaches patience.
Repetition teaches devotion.
Repetition is comfortable.
But repetition is repetitious.
Don't people get tired of doing roughly the same things over and over again?
Don't people get tired of seeing roughly the same things over and over again?
Tired of repeating the same techniques.
Tired of repeating the same concepts.
Need to improve.
Need to innovate.
Art is not my job.
Art is my mental exercise.
And I am mentally underfit.
So it's time to get back into shape.
We Lost YouYou came home to us covered in mudWe Lost You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stumbling drunken through the door
I’d never seen you that way before
Blurry and lost behind bloodshot eyes
His death had caught you by surprise
I was sent to bed so adults could talk,
You hardly could and could barely walk
Heart too big, you were drowning with care
Drunken on pain the entire drive there
We rose to forgive you with the dawn,
Because in grief, you can’t be wrong,
But you could not forget your deeds
You hid from us in your time of need
You always had your family’s love
And needn’t have feared God above
You couldn’t cope with your father’s death
You gave your health with his last breath
Wait for me.I’ll be home before you know it!!Wait for me.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Wait for me.
It’s been two years, and I’m still waiting. We were so young when we said goodbye, weren’t we? It was just this same October day, but it was raining. It isn’t today.
We were sharing my umbrella outside the terminal, so close I could feel your breath against my cheek when you looked down and smiled.
-I am going to miss you so bad.
I said it with a grin, it was a promise and a joke – all rolled into one fateful sentence.
-You’re so daft.
I laughed against your chest.
-I know, right?
I could feel your breath huff out of your chest, my arms wrapped loosely around you, your arms pressing my shoulders to you. It was harder than you let on, saying goodbye – wasn’t it?
-I’m not pulling away first.
You muttered it into my hair and I released my arms, pushing against your chest. Hold on, girl. What are you doing?!
I do.An emotion betrayedI do.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A moment wasted.
Where is your mind?
I want to know.
Tell me about it.
No, let us not drag out these words for pages and pages and pages when we could stand together in silence; you in my arms.
But instead, you and I choose to weave a thousand fragile pieces of unbroken silence together, only to break it again with the music of your lips touching mine.
I love you.
R.I.P R.I.PR.I.P3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Rest in peace"
Or at least,
what we all think it means.
How may I rest, six feet under;
in a tomb?
Alone and cold, in soiled womb?
They said, after death,
"You have nothing to worry."
"Reside in purgatory"
Why bury me in damp grave?
So far away from heavens gates?
I feel the warmth, know it well.
Another half inch, I'd burn in hell.
But in this shell, lifeless; sedated.
Ironic you wanted me cremated.
Is this wrong? Or is this right?
jokes on me I guess that's life.
At least for some,
"Reveal in Paradise"