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Similar Deviations
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fanpic for breaking bad
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I am a great actress.

I have been hiding my pain
for years now.

Spiritual warfare isn't something
every teen girl goes through


God knows.

He knows how much I've cried
behind my bathroom door,
mentally sore,
can't take much more -

only to come out as if
nothing could ever damage me...
I listened to the enemy.

"Unworthy, unloved, unwanted."
"Put that blade to your body."

And I did.

I told myself I never would,
told myself I never could.
That's something that should
never even cross my mind.

But it did.

A girl as young as me
shouldn't be battling death,

but I have since third grade.

Jesus was my aid.
Nights he would serenade

me to sleep,
reassuring I am His to keep.

Morning came and He would shout,
"Child! Do not doubt.
There is so much to live for -
this is not what I have in store
for you."

But it wasn't easy.

Sometimes I couldn't hear
and out of anger and fear
I screamed at the Lord
doubting He'd appear.

But He always did.

And He will continue
to surprise me -
that's just who He is.

He is a God who created us
in His image.
We are nothing but beautiful,
we are nothing but His.

We are nothing without Him
and everything with Him.

I've had my fair share of
battles and trials and tribulations

and the one thing I learned is that
Jesus never fails.

And His love for us is absolutely indescribable.

Do me a favor and tell me what water
tastes like.
Multiply that by ten and your product is Jesus.

God sent His son to die!
This is probably the millionth time
you've heard some crazy Christian declare it,
but trust me -
you'll see it.

Because once you've been pulled
out of hell
you won't be able to tell,
until your eyes look up
and realize
He has never left your side.

In Him, we abide.
And when the tides are high
and the thunder roars,
He takes my hands -
with Him I soar.

My soul is at rest,
for I am beside the best.
And all I can utter is;

"Thank You, Jesus.

For forgiving me.

For helping me.

For promising me eternity.


Jesus, I love You.
But thank You for
loving me first."
Something simple I wrote. This is another slam poem written for the Lord -

and for your enjoyment, of course! But more or so for Him. Hahaha. :)

I hope you all enjoy! God bless.

Written December 20th, 2012.
This work as been copyrighted.
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All artwork in this folder was done for Cubicle7's Dr Who Card Game, now available here.. [link]

All artwork is 2012 BBC/Cubicle 7 Entertainment Ltd

BBC, DOCTOR WHO (word marks, logos and devices), TARDIS, DALEKS, CYBERMAN and K-9 (word marks and devices) are trade marks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence. BBC logo BBC 1996. Doctor Who logo BBC 2009. Tardis image BBC 1963. Dalek image BBC/Terry Nation 1963. Cyberman image BBC/Kit Pedler/Gerry Davis 1966. K-9 image BBC/Bob Baker/Dave Martin 1977.
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Photo by: :iconduetodarkness:
Model = Me
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The pig carcass filled most of the stainless tub where the delivery men had laid it. Freshly slaughtered, but not butchered, it had taken four of them to lift it there. None of them spoke to Rinnovi, only pausing for him to sign for the animal before they left.

On the way to the door, one of the men pointed at the stickers affixed to virtually every item in the house; black typewritten names and addresses on white shipping labels. The leader of the group nudged him and shook his head 'no', before hurrying him out the door.

Rinnovi poured a scotch, and turned on the kitchen vid display, his own visage peering back at him with a smile. He froze the frame, leaving the remote on the island beside the second stainless tub.

"Osiris, prepare to renew." He spoke aloud to the empty room.

"Preparations underway." The voice, angel soft and faintly Irish filled the room seemingly from everywhere at once. Both of the tubs began to fill with a steaming viscous liquid, spattering against the steel, and slowly enveloping the cooling pig.

In the morning, he knew he'd awake and remember nothing of this. He'd find the remote, curiosity would lead him to play the journal he'd recorded of his work over the past year.

January would be spent shipping pieces from his house, following the instructions laid out on the labels attached to them. Physical things acquired over the past year would hold no value or interest to him come morning, and so they would be gifted to those friends who stood by him.

The first of January would be Rinnovi's forty first birthday. It would also be the twenty sixth time he'd been reborn as a forty one year old. Restored once more to a version of himself a year younger, from a pattern captured over a quarter century ago. Perhaps this time, this year, he'd get it right.  

He took one last walk through the rooms of his home. In his office, laid out on screens and strewn across whiteboards and table tops, a years progress towards unlocking the gene-code of his own existence. Another years failure to solve the riddle of his hard coded untimely demise.

This year, surely, a reinvigorated him would solve the puzzle, find the key. Perhaps one day he'd see his forty second birthday.

Returning to the kitchen, preparations complete, Rinnovi placed his empty glass on the counter and paused a moment to pat the now submerged swine. However bad he felt for the animal, using a pig for genetic building blocks was much safer and easier than finding fresh human cadavers. Fewer questions; far less expensive.

"Ok Osiris, let's try this again."

"As you wish, I'll re-brief you in the morning. Goodbye Rinnovi." The voice soothing, the tone, a hint of sadness.

He poured himself another scotch, this time lacing the drink with powerful sedatives and paralytics, and dropping his bathrobe over the back of a kitchen chair, climbed into the bath of warm liquid. He downed the drink quickly, putting the glass on the counter before slowly slipping beneath the surface. He could feel the chemicals take away control, feel his lungs slowly fill with fluid as the air escaped. The lights of the room dimmed as his eyes unfocused. By the time the nano-tech started reverting to his backup, he could no longer feel anything at all.

Tomorrow, a new day, a new man, a new chance.

As his consciousness dissolved, he thought of his son, frozen beneath his home. A boy waiting for a father to undo the error of his creation.

Perhaps he could make it safe for his son to age again this year.
From Wikipedia: Flash Fiction - 'Flash fiction differs from vignettes in that the works contain the classic story elements: protagonist, conflict, obstacles or complications, and resolution. However, unlike a traditional short story, the limited word length often forces some of these elements to be unwritten, that is, hinted at or implied in the written storyline.'

In the case of 365tomorrows - Flash Fiction is a story of ideally 500 words, and new in the 3rd year a 600 word maximum.

For everyone, a New Year brings a fresh start, a chance to undo past wrongs, or make amends. To begin anew. What if we could truly start the year again, as many times is it takes to get it right. What would become of us?
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Fujifilm X-Pro1 / Fujinon XF35mm 1.4R
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Nasty bite.
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