Untitled\Untitled5 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You were seventeen when you first felt the sting of pain so thoroughly that your mind didn’t know what to do. It was the first time you experienced the phenomena that was ‘getting ones shit pushed in.’
Blood ran from your nose to your mouth. You were fairly sure the blow to your jaw had dislodged some of those last stubborn baby teeth.
Your eyes were okay, as far as you knew, but it still hurt to try and take in the world.
Your mind did not have any coherent council for your body, and your body was too busy flooding your mind with nervous signals of extreme duress. Oft hard it was for the two to reconcile, pain notwithstanding.
Over the years your shit would get pushed in many times, due to the mantles you would take.
Yet in this moment of adolescent firsts, a bleeding face and a headache that might have been a concussion, you felt enraptured in wonder.
The simple fact your body could take this pain would be the single greatest thing you would learn. The sim
RebornAs I lay down to go to sleep tonight January 23, 2013 my body and soul will be on fire. The fire will burn the old pain that was in my heart. The fire will burn the old scars that on my body. The fire will burn the sorrow that was in my soul. The fire will kill me tonight. As in the morning I will rise from my old ash like a phoenix getting reborn. I will rise as a new person with all my scars heal with burning flame. I will rise with a new heart that was soothed away be the burning flame and new soul with that have the fire inside of me. January 24, 2013 I will have the spirit of the phoenix I will rise and reborn to a new beginning …..Reborn11 months ago in Personal More Like This
Photographic RealizationsOn the subject of photography, I understand not everyone wants to invest in thousands of dollars worth of kit, and not everyone wants to move beyond a point and shoot, and I'm okay with it, I understand, (though I do often talk to much about it the more... complicated parts of the art). That said, both myself and the rooty tooty point and shooty's all have one thing in common. We want to capture a photo. Sometimes I have an audience in mind when I do it, sometimes I don't, and it's just me playing around as one does with a hobby. However when I'm on vacation, and I'm taking a shot, I have the same ultimate goal as the guy with the camera phone a lot of the timePhotographic Realizations2 months ago in Personal More Like This
I want to take a shot that I'll look at for years to come, look back on that moment and smile. Where I get annoyed is when I see someone touting themselves as a professional when they're hiding a crap image behind an instagram filter. When the goal is to flaunt T&A as opposed to taking a good thought or memory inspiring phot
Above AllSo as I was on my way to the shoot in Ueno, I walked past a few homeless persons. This isn't the first time I've seen poverty and it won't be the last, however I often think twice about making eye contact or looking at them for shame of my status. For heaven's sake I'm carrying camera gear that if pawned off could shelter and feed some of them for a couple of months.Above All1 month ago in Personal More Like This
That's when I remember the quote by photographer Robert Frank "Above all, life for a photographer cannot be a matter of indifference." And then I took the photo. I've got a roof over my head and food in my belly, but it doesn't mean a thing if I don't put it to good use. I may not have the finances or room for more than myself, but I have the ability and the skills to make sure the stories are told. That's part of what I intend to start doing, both the paradise and the nightmare, the yin and the yang, photos tell a story, and as someone who sees the world through that camera lens I inten
I Dream of Nightmares: Pitch Black x Reader pt.5I Dream of Nightmares: Pitch Black x Reader pt.52 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
The shadow man looks up at you, “My name?” he asks, as if the concept is foreign. You nod, stepping toward him. He gives a slight, half-hearted laugh. “No one has asked me that since…” he trails off before snapping back. “My name,” he starts again, “My name, is Pitch Black.” The name sends shivers up your spine and you smile widely at him.
“Well, Pitch. Are you hungry?” He looks at you astonished, as if no one has ever thought to offer him food before. You laugh at this, taking his hand and leading him down to your kitchen. You sit him on the couch as you make two bowls of instant mac-&-cheese. Handing one to him, you sit on the other side of the couch, watching him as you eat. “So, Pitch…” you let his name rest on your tongue, cherishing the very feel of it, “what is it you do?” He looks over at you, a smirk playing at his lips once more. He has not touched the macaroni, and sets it down