Emmie was possibly the most genuinely fake person I've ever met.
At some point in her late youth Emmie decided that she was going to deny aging. She divorced her sensible husband so she could have something 'hip' to complain about- what's more cosmopolitan than an ex-husband?
Emmie's brown hair went bottle blond, with hot pink at the tips to keep it 'fresh'. She added false eyelashes when the natural ones went a little thin and could no longer support her eyeliner and body glitter. She whitened her teeth and framed them with barbie-pink lip gloss. She got a nip and a tuck when her face showed her age.
She dressed like a housewife from the 50's, in polka dots and pedal-pushers, a little scarf tied around her neck whenever she went out, a wide-brimmed hat for sunny days.
Never without a smile; even when others broke down and cried, Emmie stayed optimistic for t
Redwall- Coming Home Winter over Mossflower wood had been remarkably harsh. Everything was white and cold, frozen in its place until Spring. The tree branches leaned low, heavily laden with snow and ice. There was a constant flurry of snow falling at all times.Redwall- Coming Home3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The weather had trapped the creatures of Redwall Abbey inside the red sandstone structure. The only ones allowed out were the biggest and strongest of creatures, and even then only rarely.
Presently, one of those with such privileged rights was outside, charging through the deep snow on the Abbey walls, attempting to survey the landscape.
Deyna the otter was a tall, strong riverdog. He'd been born at the Abbey, but as a babe had been stolen and taken to the Juskarath clan. After fifteen long seasons he returned home to the Abbey, and to his mother and older sister. Still, he had some habits hanging over him
A Time With TailsAn advantage of living on one of the lesser-known islands is that during the off season, the beach is nearly deserted, especially at night.A Time With Tails8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Water slaps against the dock's wooden supports, spitting droplets of salt water into the night air. The surf rushes like breath in our ears while the foam-capped waves retreat from the beach, tiny shells and pebbles rolling in their wake.
It isn't cold, not really. It rarely gets truly cold here. But it's chilly, cool enough to raise goosebumps on our bare arms and make us shiver in the shade of the dock. We stay silent, though, not letting our teeth chatter, not whispering about our plans for the night.
All three of us are staring at the last house on the beach with any lights on. It's a kitchen light. I saw someone walking around inside. It won't be long now before they finally go to bed and that warm light winks out. Not long now.
We've tucked ourselves up under the old wooden dock, right a
Saved It was a hot day, almost blisteringly so. The sand was hot too, unless you disturbed it a bit. It was much cooler underneath. But it still got everywhere, and that made it rather irritating. Especially when it was in your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your-Saved2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Get up!” Someone screamed from the crowd. The cry was picked up and chanted around the arena.
The young shapeshifter laid in the sand, eyes closed, listening to the voices. She realized rather suddenly that she was human, knocked out right out of her bear shift by her opponent's relentless blows. She didn't really care. She was feeling every bruise, tasting the blood in her mouth. Every breath was an effort. Maybe she was dying. That would be nice. It would probably be quiet. She felt her body relax.
The crowd booed. There hadn't been nearly enough bloodshed in this fight.
At least, not yet.
The tigress growled and narrowed her eyes at th
Data Crunch600 wordsData Crunch4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
What excitement did he have to offer the Autobot cause?
With some funky music supplied by Jazz, a hot drink nearby, and a tidy pile of his brothers' science notes, Lightspeed felt that he was all set and ready to go.
Doing the Cybertronian version of paperwork back at base while everyone else was about to head out on another mission. Without him. Again. Lightspeed faked being unconcerned as his eldest brother Scattershot tried to make him feel good about being left behind.
" not as if we don't want you with us out in the field." Scattershot was saying as he stood with one hand on Lightspeed's shoulder.
"It's ok." Lightspeed interrupted in a voice that sounded far more cheerful then he felt. But regardless of how he felt Lightspeed knew that he was not being ditched. By the time his brothers returned from this latest mission he, Lightspeed, would have all of the data from the previous mission ready to be presented to the Autobot brass.
Avengers: In MemoriamIn MemoriamAvengers: In Memoriam3 years ago in Drama More Like This
in memoriam, a Latin phrase that translates directly as 'in memory of'"Did you mourn?"
"We all did."They all mourn. Just in different ways.
There is a bloodstain on the wall.
None of them ever mention it or show any sign of letting it dwell in their thoughts, but Fury has noticedwith his 'good eye' as Stark likes to refer to it asthat there are a few rare moments just before a mission when they can be found gathered around the mark they refuse to let anyone clean away, and one or two of them at a time can be found giving it more than just a passing glance as they wander by it, fingers outstretched and tips barely brushing the surface.
The stain marks more than another casualty of battleit is a moment of triumph, of death; it is where, separate as they were, they became a team, where they found something (no, someone) to avenge. It is where they go on their own to collect their thoughts, looking into the empty void before them (th
The Caper of the President's SealThe brown-haired girl enters my office and sits quietly, eyes darting around the room. My secretary looks at me over her head as she shows her in, face filled with curiosity.The Caper of the President's Seal3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Thank you, Marisa. Please hold my calls for the next hour." She blinks, but nods in the affirmative before heading back to her desk, closing the door behind her.
"Hello, Miss Sandiego," I say to the girl in front of me. She offers me a superficial smile, wan and wary.
"Hello, Chief." Undeterred, I try to continue the conversation.
"So, you won a huge prize on a game show a couple of years ago, right? It's A Wise Child, if I remember correctly." She nods, a perfunctory motion; she's either extremely nervous, or bored out of her mind. I have a sneaking suspicion it's the latter, but I'm stumped. I cough a bit and motion to the simple, brass candy dish on my desk. She offers another smile, small and condesce
Drive"You ready to go?"Drive3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's with sodden hands and soaked-through boots that he climbs into the back of the faded old pickup. Red paint's peeling off everywhere, but he barely cares. Bullet holes and scattershot clusters show every few feet, but he still loves his ride. Despite the shattered world and slightly shattered rear-view mirror, it still takes him places.
He's got a gruff voice; his baritone erupts from his throat like gunfire or gravel across a chipped highway. Torn rubber boots slosh in the highway's broken shoulder. A burning wind catches his hair, runs through his stubble and down his open shirt. Runoff from the road splashes his faded jeans.
His coat whips in the wind, green and patched more times than he can count on his fingers. At least he has all of them; staying intact is an odd bonus in his line of work. The tools of his trade click and shift in their holsters just above h
SunshineHis eyes were blank as he waved his hand lazily through the visible radiance of sunshine that cascaded through the thick trees above, dappling the clearing that he didn't dare enter. The light refracted through his hand, bending oddly, as if it were passing through water rather than flesh. Not that his flesh could truly be called flesh anymore.Sunshine4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Macalaurë sighed and looked down at the shining green grass. His silver gaze could detect no sign of a foreign, solid object obstructing the path of the light that was being thrown to the ground, lighting up the world around him in a way that appeared striking compared to the gray of everything else around him. Even his pale shadow of a hand seemed brighter beneath the sunlight.
Even the sunshine can no longer see me. This fact should have bothered him, should have brought him some sort of despair, but the elf didn't even twitch. In fact, he was almost relieved
A New Mermaid's New Found Freedom“What am I supposed to do dad? Live in some kind of sewer?” spat Christina Smith to her father James as she stormed out of the front door, turning towards her dad who stood at the door. Christina stood at a modest 5’ 2”, yet she was a stunning young 22 year old woman. Her small but athletic build, coupled with a C-cup bust size, curvaceous hips, long strawberry red hair that reached down to her hips, and deep ice blue eyes would have caused any guy to drool over her as if she was his next Aphrodite incarnate goddess.A New Mermaid's New Found Freedom9 months ago in Settings More Like This
Her dad, a tall 6’ 4”, slightly overweight red headed man was more concerned with what people in his church thought of him over his daughter’s happiness and feelings. “How dare you Christina! I’m supposed to look after until you can get a husband so he can look after you instead of me. “
“That is such a sexist statement dad. Don’t you get it; I don’t want to b
GT: TherapyFear, rational or otherwise, was something one never truly wanted to face head on.GT: Therapy3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
For twenty years, give or take, Carol Walding viewed conquering some certain fears as overrated; avoidance was just as commendable in her eyes.
So as she sat quietly in the large, solemn office, under the scrutinous gaze of the austere Colonel Jackson, she wondered what decisions in her life caused her to end up here.
"It's quite illogical, Carol." Colonel Jackson was a longtime friend of the family, possibly her father's best friend, but as he spoke with her that evening, his voice was leveled and professional; though he still had trouble concealing the underlining concern he held for her. "Your fear that is; it's irrational." He softly tapped the tip of his pen onto the desk and leaned onto his elbows; watching the girl carefully from across the table.
Carol slumped into her chair and sighed; she had been getting this conversation all week and she was growing ever tired of people telling her tha
GalactusTo whomever finds meGalactus3 years ago in Literature Entries More Like This
I fear I have held something from you and from the galaxy, for many a year. As you all know I am the last of my kin and as I am approaching the end of my life, I feel it is appropriate to tell you the truth.
Back when I was Galan in the year 27π it was the morn of the seventeenth moon. I was no older than nine, a number which, said to represent satisfaction, brought only sorrow. The sun had set with a smooth sky yet there was a disconcerting air of the cavern. The only woman who ever loved me was resting peacefully, with child, upon the chaise longue, the fire kissing her toes with the sweetest crackling sound. The suns upper corona was casting its final rays, illuminating her tired face.
As her chest gently rose, a hoarse braying came from within the barn, followed by a consenting uproar from the other animals. I rushed out to tame the mounting pandemonium emanating from the farmyard. The barn doors had burst open. Shards lay across the drive. Ebbs soa
Battlegrounds 3 PrologueDey say etll send da toughest boy mad Dey say ets cursed, dat no one oo goes derell come back da same. Dey say dem greyskins dont need ta patrol et, coz dey knows its da one line us Orks aint crossin fer no wun. Its da Grey Line. Stay da zog away from et if yer like bein da way ya iz.Battlegrounds 3 Prologue6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
-Nazgro Ghurk, Ork Ardboy.
Ork warcamp, half a mile North of the Grey Line.
Burning space debris breached the thick layer of toxic clouds, scattering across the sky like fireworks. It was a far too common sight for the Orks; what was left of the once great Greenskin warships would smash down into the dusty, forsaken wastelands as little more than molten chunks of rock and metal on a daily basis. The toll in space was a heavy one.
Most of the Orks had learned that anything which landed below the Grey Line should stay there salvage crews sent into and beyond the Grey Line had disappeared on previous exp