End RemembranceEnd Remembrance3 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
Are you happy now?I tried my best to please them all…Are you happy now?2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
They said that I always looked too angry
So I shaved off my eyebrows
They said I always dressed bad
So I took off my clothes
They said I cried too much
So I burned out my eyes
They said I wasn't listening
So I tore off my ears
They said I always said the wrong things
So I ripped out my vocal cords
They said I always faked my smile
So I ripped off my lips
They said my hair was a mess
So I cut it off
They said my feet were too big
So I broke them
They said I walked weird
So I saw off my legs
They said I played too much with my fingers
So I pulled off my hands
They said my arms were too thin
So I tore them off
They said my belly looked funny
So I cut out my stomach
They said I sat funny
So I removed my hips
They said I breathe too loud
So I ripped out my lungs
They said I always hung with my head
So I tore it off
They said my skin tone was ugly
So I removed my skin
They said my muscles were weak
So I ripped them off the bones
They said my bon
Schizoid Personality DisorderSolitude -- My Sanctuary.Schizoid Personality Disorder5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Silence -- My Llullaby.
Observation -- My Occupation.
Intelligence -- My Curse.
Please, don't invite me to an outing that a normal person would attend in a heartbeat.
I won't hesitate to turn you down, I'm perfectly content being alone, in fact I would much rather be by myself.
It's not that I hate you, in fact I have no feelings about you, I just don't like people.
I can fully focus on my thoughts when I am free of outside distractions, such as the mindless drabble of the masses.
Solitude is My Haven, My Utopia, My Sanctuary.
Silence is golden.
The world needs a mute button, the noise is suffocating; I can't breath outside.
I yearn for sweet silence, all I want is for a few moments of absolute silence when I unwillingly leave My Sanctuary.
Once I finally get silence, I can't help but smile and allow myself to get lost in nothingness.
Silence is An Aria with no words, A Harmonious Composition, My Llullaby.
Larmes Elle serre les dents. Rarement elle n'a eu aussi mal de sa vie... et autour d'elle, ces gens qui vivent, inconscients de sa douleur... Un hurlement silencieux de révolte monte en elle, de souffrance, de chagrin, monte, monte, l'étouffe. Elle aimerait pleurer, elle ne peut pas. Trop fière. Elle ne leur montrera pas. Non. Ils ne sauront pas...Larmes5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Mais les souvenirs dansent en elle, la submerge. Elle ne la reverra plus... elle est partie... elle ne la reverra plus... elle ne la reverra plus !
Elle reporte son regard à l'extérieur. Le ciel est magnifique, strié de reflets rose, oranges, bleu... Les arbres eux-même sont grandioses, parés de leur manteau flamboyant de l'automne.
Mais cette beauté ne lui évoque que la mort. À quoi la mène sa vie ? Elle l'ignore. Où vont-ils, tous ces êtres qui se croisent, pleurent, rient... ? Elle l'ignore. Mais elle sait
All the Things You Never KnewIt was your favorite thing to say. “We know everything about each other. Not just the good things, but even the bad ones. We have no secrets.” And the way your eyes lit up when you said it, how your arm would curl around my shoulders and squeeze me against you… I couldn’t say anything. I promised myself that I would when we were alone, but the moment always seemed wrong and eventually the fact that I still had secrets became a secret itself.All the Things You Never Knew2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It turns out I wasn’t the only one.
I never told you about the crying or the cutting or the nights I spent awake staring at the bottle of pills. I was terrified it would be too much for you to handle, so I didn’t mention the time I ran away, or the first time I ended up in the hospital. I locked the memories up in a box inside my head with “For Tom, to open later” written on the outside.
And you, in turn, never told me about the cancer, fearing it would be too much for me to handle. Well, you were ri
Incantations and Deductions Chapter ElevenChapter ElevenIncantations and Deductions Chapter Eleven3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John makes his way to the Great Hall trying not to feel too downhearted. The beginning of fifth year has so far not been great: seeing Sherlock has churned up feelings that he doesn't want to examine too closely and which hadn't put him in the best of moods. Then his meeting with the head of Gryffindor had just been...well, shitty.
"I understand your desire to be back with your friends John, but you must understand that you attacked a fellow student in the midst of one of your nightmares. Now, whilst your Healers tell me you're improving they cannot guarantee that you won't relapse."
Arguing, John had realised, would have been pointless. The housemistress had been sympathetic but stern. It was an important year for everyone of his age at Hogwarts: they needed no distractions, least of all from one of their friends waking them up every night, screaming at things that weren't really there. John supposes he should just consider this as another case of 'taking one for the te
Dear Jack FrostDear Jack Frost3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jack, when I was a little girl, I would look out my window during winter and watch the snow fall. I had a weak constitution so I was never allowed to go out and play in the snow or I would catch pneumonia. I'd watch the snowflakes fall from inside my room and thank you for them rather than Santa Claus. When I was sick I'd make little paper snowflakes for you and give them to my parents to hang on our tree outside. When I was lonely I'd draw pictures in the frost on my window. I remember you would occasionally open my window to let in a perfectly formed snowflake as if to say, "Look at the beautiful thing I made for you." When I turned 19 my best friend died and I had lost all hope. Yet at the funeral, even though it was in September, you made it snow for me. When I took my own life the last words to leave my lips were, "I'll always believe in you Jack Frost." And I meant it. My only wish is that you remember me.
With love from a lifetime and forever more,
SurgerySurgerySurgery2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cole sat by the window, staring out at the snowy landscape, sipping from a mug as his eyes traveled over the only imperfection of the scene before him. Footprints marred the otherwise flawless blanket of snow, leading away from his house.
Before the experiments started, he would have assumed the footprints belonged to Bailey, and that if he waited long enough, he would see her returning with her cheeks flushed and that dazzling smile that he loved on her face.
Cole took another sip. When she found out about the experiments, Bailey had taken her brilliant smile and caught a plane back to Miami. There had been no conversation, no questions, no second chances. Just a note, which he still had, kept in a masochistic display of his inability to let go.
Dear Dr. Jekyll, she had written. Yes, she was probably accurate, but she could not be sure of which side had remained with him.
He got to his feet. Setting his mug on the kitchen counter as he walked by, he stepped up to the bl
RemoverRemover2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She decided a young woman like her had no business being imperfect. Impurities had to be expelled from her life, no matter the cost. An universal remover promised to be her savior. It lived up to its commercials, doing away with the stains that disgraced her floor and some of the walls.
Would domestic hygiene free her from being flawed? Doubtful. This product guaranteed to exterminate any kind of filth. Could it go beyond the material things? She rubbed the substance on her forehead, and conjured as many negative thoughts as possible. They were recalled, only to vanish from memory a second after.
Satisfied? Not quite. Even the good recollections had portions of impurity here and there. She wouldn't allow that, and began rubbing with furious abandon. There could not be a single mistake, not a lone wound, every hint of imperfection had to disappear ...
Her neighbor would make a visit later. No one answered the door.
Don't Let Go"Rich!"Don't Let Go4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There was nothing but silence around her. The air felt strangely...full. Oppressive, like it was pressing in on all sides, choking her. She could barely breathe.
"Rich! Oh God, oh God."
She didn't even recognize her own voice, it seemed foreign to her own ears. Each word spoken was muffled, drowned out by the heavy beat of her heart and her halting footsteps. Every step she took she had to struggle, pushing debris out of the way, sharp pieces of wood and metal scratching her legs as she walked. And she had been walking.
For so long.
She began to wonder if it was her hearing that was the problem, or if her voice was simply giving out. Her heart was growing louder every second. Every terrifying second.
Rich, Rich, oh please, please. Her throat was tearing itself apart, but she needed to find him. She wrapped her arms closer around herself. A piece of cracked, torn metal cut through her shoe and sliced into her foot. She fell. She braced hersel
FourThe noise in the airport should have been unbearable, but to Prosper it was muted, shoved to the background while he tried in vain to think of something to say. Other passengers were yelling and running past them, but Prosper felt as if the silence stretching between him and Fae was unbearable. She managed a smile for him, but it was strained, and Prosper knew that there was no real happiness behind it.Four5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"This is for the best," she murmured, gently grasping his hands in hers, "but, I'm glad, at least... that we'll get this. Closure. I would never want to end what we've had over the phone, or... well, you know what I mean."
"I..." Prosper couldn't finish the sentence, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he could think of absolutely nothing to say. He didn't usually struggle for a way to put his thoughts into words, so for that usual talent to depart him at a time like this was terrifying. Fear rushed over him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was making the b
Canning SeasonCanning season is that wonderful time of year when you never have a moment to yourself - it's all four in the morning mason jar sterilizing, neighbors making coffee in your kitchen before you're even dressed because they have cabbage, too (or carrots or apples or string beans) and you've invited them over with a truck load because you know extra hands make all the difference.Canning Season2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It's the time of year when the kitchen is never comfortable - if the water's not on to boil, the oven is warming and full of jars, or the space around the table is all buckets and elbows, paring knives, sweaty brows and chatter.
There is never silence - even in that ten minutes of processing time, when everything stops long enough for a hurried dinner, there's the water-bath-bubbling, jar-rattling rumble of the canner, or the joyous gunshot snapping of the lids as each jar seals.
Those days are filled with wood smoke, steam and the smell of apple butter reducing in the large copper kettle that once lived with your
Tumbler‘Twere’nt long ago, when I started tumbling. Hot dry winds rose around me and the base of my stalk went snap and I began to roll. Finally free of my roots, ready to roam the deserts and plains. Catch a glimpse of the tall orange buttes in the northern plains, as they had been described to me by other holy rollers.Tumbler2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Maybe even catch a view of people. Heard lotsa stories ‘bout them people, even though I saw one on a horse when I were but a sprout. People were always in’eresting, usin’ us for shootin’ practice, something to kick, something innocuous and ubiquitous to say, “Yeah. You’re alone out here. Just you, the sun, and the tumbleweed.”
Starting tumbling, started seein’ some strange things. There ain’t hardly no trees ‘round here, but there’s lots of wood, rectangular like, half formed into boxes. I heard that people had something to do with it, wanting the sparkles from the ground my detached roots once sun
MoonlightWe only got caught once.Moonlight2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were about thirty of us at Madelyn Cartwright’s orphanage, the youngest only three and the oldest seventeen. Ella and I were in the middle, young enough to still hope that our parents would show up one day, but old enough to know deep down inside that we were on our own. It was awkward and we were best friends, and that was our life.
Madelyn’s house had a giant staircase that split into two smaller ones when it met the window in the wall. In the middle of the night, the moon would shine through the window and onto the landing, illuminating the stairs with a sort of eerily pale glow. I know this because sometimes, at night, when everyone else was asleep, Ella would sneak out of the girls’ dormitory and I would sneak out of the boys’ and we would meet on that little landing, the moonlight making us look like ghosts.
Sometimes we talked, about Ella wanting to be a nurse and me wanting to be a writer, about our parents and what we thou
That Which We FindI don’t know what attracted me to the little antiques shop on 23rd. I’d seen it every day when I drove to work, and every day when I drove back, but I never stopped until one day in September.That Which We Find2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I stepped inside, the bell on the door tinkling quietly. A sort of old, musty smell hit my nose, which didn’t surprise me. A fine layer of dust covered almost everything in the store, and those special objects that weren’t dusted with grey were covered in tarps and blankets.
Trailing my finger over the top of a wooden bench, I wove my way between lamps and cabinets, looking for the proprietor.
“Hello?” I called. The echo of my voiced sounded way too loud in the quiet space. No one answered. “Hello?”
Nothing, not even a whisper. I rubbed my fingers together, and then wiped them on my jeans. I turned to leave.
Movement I saw out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned, half-expecting some withered old man to come out of the woodwork, but
Mono.One morning a black pillar appeared in the center of town, within the boundaries of the park and right outside of the library. It stood at least thirteen feet tall and was as wide as a mature oak. They deduced it was made out of some kind of polished stone. Some guessed it was obsidian; others argued it was too strong to be such a fragile stone. It could have been granite, but when was the last time you saw black granite in that quantity, and in that shape?Mono.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"We should knock it down and drag it away!" someone shouted.
But they were too afraid to touch it.
"Why not just leave it here?" another suggested.
But they wondered what would happen if they didn't do anything at all.
Whoever put it there didn't do it alone. They'd need a truck to transport the thing, and they'd need some way to get it off the flatbed and stand it up straight. But why go to all of that trouble for a pillar of rock? Or was it part of someth
Laundry DayNaturally, all the dryers were full. Mr.Ling had a crappy ratio of washers to dryers and there was always a wait. But today I was in a hurry, and figured Id risk a few quarters on the machine at the end with the Out of Order sign on it.Laundry Day6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Stupid, yeah, a guaranteed loss of money but as I said, I was in a hurry. Maybe the durn thing was just slow or had a clogged filter. Worth a shot.
So I ignored the Out of Order sign and loaded my clothes, slotted the quarters and slammed them home. Was delighted when the orange light glowed and my clothes began their tumble. A hand on the glass detected warmth, too. Out of Order, my ass.
I sat back with a Discovery magazine and thumbed to the article on heavy nutrinos and missing dark matter. After a few minutes I glanced up to check my clothes and
The dryer was still a-tumblin, but instead of my jeans and t-shirts the thick glass fronted a swi
I I hate myself.I2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I'm plain. I'm boring. I don't have any sexual appealing qualities.
Heck, I'm a C cup for goodness sakes.
I never went outside during the entirety of my middle school life. The only time I stepped outside was when I went to take my precious dog to go do his business and to go to school. If I went to the mall, it was rare. I had a tendency to lock myself in my room the minute I got home to read a book or to do homework. I sometimes studied when I had a test the next day and I barely ate because I never did anything to have my stomach weep for hunger.
I was lonely. I was depressed. I rarely ever smiled.
Geez, I was like a scary frowning clown.
The moment I entered mid-high, I only had a few friends. Those friends were entirely online.
Yes, I had a boyfriend. He was my childhood friend. He doesn't count, he's a boyfriend, and he's not someone I can go complain to about my girlish problems and fangirl about my many fandoms with.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Trust IssuesI. (Set the stage)Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Trust Issues3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"The color of my bra is called Flirt," the girl says, popping a bubble in Amelia's face and winking. The sickly sweet scent of chemicals and sugar mixes with the chemicals and the sugar of the bar, hags low and heavy about their faces. The girl slides closer, beaming, her eyelids low. She's wearing too much mascara. Amelia grips her drink tighter and pulls her elbows in collapsing, she fills less space than she did before. Volume stays the same, the number of atoms composing her stays constant, but she appears to be smaller. Could this be expressed mathematically, or with a computer simulation, she wonders, and sips at her drink. She says nothing.
"See here." The girl tugs down her shirt sleeve and shows Amelia the thin bra strap pressing into the moon pale skin of her shoulder. The orange lighting makes her seem healthier than she is. "Flirt." She wiggles her eyebrows in a way that would be suggestive, if her makeup wasn't so dark that it made her look
Chronicle ReviewChronicle Review3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Three high school friends gain superpowers after making an incredible discovery. Soon,
though, they find their lives spinning out of control and their bond tested as they
embrace their darker sides. Hi this is KingJames92 your guide to movies. I am one of the
fewest to start off my review by saying I love Cloverfield. Now you will understand more
about that later, but for now I want to talk about that movie. I used to think it
was "the bomb of century" but that was at a time where I didn't know enough about movies
than and I wasn't reviewing them like I do now. But I still think it's a excellent movie
even though I haven't seen in about four years. But now you will know the reason why I am
talking about Cloverfield is that this movie is actually a found footage film. Ah, found
footage films started in 1999 with a little movie called The Blair Witch Project which
became cultural phenomenon and started a pethroal of films like these from Diary of the
Dead all the way to this year's The D
Wolf HuntWind buffed the strong creature's coat. His nose lifted to the sky, wiggling back and forth ever so slightly as he tested the breeze. Elk. He smelled elk for sure.Wolf Hunt4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Rallying his pack mates with a quick howl, the leader conveyed his excitement. Now would be the time for a hunt, he would tell them if he could speak. Then they were off. Their narrow chests braved the snow with little problem, their tracks falling in to one another's. The snow was their element. And today, they would dine on elk, he just knew it!
The pack finally spotted the elk, and stopped to put their noses to good use again. Too strong, healthy bull, too far wait! There, her, she was perfect! One of the closer elk, pushing through snow to reach what little remained of the grass, completely oblivious to the danger she was now in. The wolves could smell her now; a middle aged female, but heavy with calf. Their mouths watered at the thought of such a delicacy. Tender meat, full of flavors they had only once have tried
An Apex PredatorAn Apex Predator3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Blood. Andrew had never been too fond of it.
Yet, why was he now sitting on the floor of a dirty public restroom stall, marveling at it?
What exactly had changed?
So much had changed.
Andrew's hands were covered in the crimson liquid as he held up some stray teeth his proof that what just happened was not a dream.
He examined each one in turn, admiring the neatly cut shape of some, and the not so neatly cut of the others.
He would have to practice.
He smiled at his camera, at whoever his audience was supposed to be, before throwing the teeth into the toilet.
He then noticed for the first time his hands, distractedly wiping them on some stray paper towels scattered on the floor.
He could hear the bell ringing from the hall.
He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his camera.
His hands were still slightly stained.
Andrew sat in the midst of abandoned cars and other trash, staring at his camera.
He had been practicing, studying.
He leaned in closer to his lens, wiping it with his sl
The Decisions We MakeIzayaXReaderXShizuoThe Decisions We Make3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Chapter 3: Smash!
You found your surroundings different from your usual home, trying to remember the events that took place last night. You had a slight headache, but your body ached more if anything. It was just tired from the excessive fun. You remembered going to the club/bar with your friends, but how did you get here? Wait...who's apartment was this again? After sitting up slowly and observing more of the room, you recognized it to be Shizuo's! You recalled him working at the bar so maybe that was how you stayed here. You needed to use the bathroom, freshen up first then finding Shizuo was important. You went to the door, but stopped, blinking in confusion at the missing knob. You gently pushed the door, softly calling out Shizuo's name.
You found him in the kitchen, just starting to prepare breakfast. You made yourself known, the blonde turning his attention to the female who stole a kiss from him last night. Not that he was complaining.
The Closet The ClosetThe Closet5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
By: Cody Hall
It's there staring at me with its glowing green eyes, I can see it when I look toward the closet.
"Wake up," I whispered to my husband, trying to get him to get up, but his snoring quickly drowned me out,"Wake up!" I shook him this time with a great force, causing him to come to a quick awakening.
"Wha-What is it?"
"There's something in there." I said, pointing toward the closet.
"Not this again." He sighed, "Aren't you a little too old to be