The Final Battle - PokemonThe Final Battle - PokemonThe Final Battle - Pokemon4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The crowds are roaring, but I hear nothing. The only sound is the echoing beat of my heart thumping in my chest.
The final battle. It's finally here.
I have defeated the Pokemon Leagues of many regions, becoming the Champion in each.
It is time to begin. My opponent and I stand in the center of the arena. I look straight into his eyes as we shake hands.
I have defeated 32 Gym Leaders, and eight more Frontier Brains.
They are the eyes of my equal.
I have saved the world from numerous attempts at world domination, conquering many criminal organizations along the way.
I stand back, and so does he. I don't even look at my belt to see which Pokeball my hands rest on. I know each one by their place, their feel.
I have gained the powers of fire, ice and lightning from capturing the deities of each.
I send out my Pokemon, and he sends out his. Within moments we are given the signal to begin, and attacks of fire and lightning clash i
The Heir to Courage - storyThe Heir to Courage - story1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Heir to Courage
The Hero's Shade traveled shroud in the shadows of a thickly wooded trail. Paws nimbly picking their way through fallen branches the wolf silently tread to the secluded home buried deep along the outskirts of Hyrule.
Within the last few hours Shade had found himself once again able to sense the Triforce of Courage.
From the moment the golden relic was split by an unbalanced touch the three pieces of the Triforce were destined to be continually regifted and reborn through generations.
Courage had made its rounds time and time again, each time leading its wielder on an righteous but otherwise uneventful life.
Wisdom was most often reborn within the royal family and earlier this year it had done so yet again, with a new princess, again named Zelda as was tradition...
But what troubled the Sacred Beast is that in all his wanderings he had yet to see anyone bear the mark of Power...
As an ethereal being Shade made his way easily and silently into the dusty old rafters of
Protection Of The Enemy Part 3Ganondorf tossed and turned in his sleep, his fingers seizing the covers of the bed. Link awoke softly and raised his head off his pillow, watching his brother fight in his sleep. He furrowed his brow and pulled back the thin covers, placing his lightly tanned feet on the floor.Protection Of The Enemy Part 31 month ago in General Fiction More Like This
“Ganny?” he whispered coming closer, Ganondorf turned over with a moan, the blankets curling around him.
“Get away! Run!” Ganondorf mumbled, scrunching his eyes tightly. Link clambered onto the bed, pulling himself up with his arms
“Ganny?” Link ushered again, shaking Ganondorf’s shoulder with his eight year old hand, Ganondorf turned fully over, narrowly smacking Link in the face.
He moaned louder, almost whining “I don’t want to hurt you!”
Link scratched his chin; nightmares were plaguing his brother’s nights more than ever, giving him about as much energy as a Redead in the morning. He wondered if there was something he could do.
Don't Give me a Reason to Sell My SoulDon't give me a reason to sell my soul, she should have said.Don't Give me a Reason to Sell My Soul4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Instead, she just stared at the man on the screen in front of her, the man with his long, drooping skin, tired eyes, haggard face and balding head. He was hardly the admiral we had once known. She said "I don't have any desire to do it," and then quickly, "but I'll follow my orders, if you give them to me."
There was fright in her eyes. She gripped the edges of the captain's chair and bit her cheek, fighting off inevitable tears. But not here. She couldn't cry now. People relied on her to be strong. What people she wasn’t sure, but someone, somewhere, surely. She had to believe that.
"Those are your orders," the man said, sinking heavily into his chair. "I trust you'll carry them out."
She snapped off communications with ill-hid despair. Her blonde hair, thin and almost colorless, hung around her face like a fallen halo, fading with every sin. Her lips were tight, her cheeks drawn, and her eyes stared out of bru
GladiatorBeing an artist sometimes feels like being a gladiator.Gladiator1 year ago in Letters More Like This
Though the occasional flowers heal the superficial wounds or boost the ego after an exhausting fight, they do nothing to keep pain at bay when I go back to my cage.
Just like gladiators who die in the arena, spilling their guts out in the concrete and omnipresent dirt, just like the reality of the screams and wails covered by the cheers of the masses... so do I spill everything I feel on paper, for your entertainment.
And just like the cuts of a sword through the flesh, going down with a shriek on the naked bone, are real, so are the nervous strokes of the pencil real, and the words are real, and the pain is real, and the love is real. And this is the only way I can do art, and you have it all, the gore and the sublime.
And I will keep doing it this way until I collapse in the dirt, with my guts spi
MaaheWhen the Maaheseum wore off, Onteia knew she was close to death. Her hair had gone white, her eyes were sunken and glassy, her flesh had receded. Those in her pod were the same: decrepit old men and women, none of them older than twenty-five. Outside, the blueshift had pushed every black hole, every brown dwarf, every burst of cosmic radiation from every pulsar in the Galactic Center into visibility. In hyperspace, even someone who never saw the shining beauty brought out by Maaheseum could see what lay beyond the cursory glance that was their lifelong perspective.Maahe6 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
The pod was nearing its final destination--the spectacular, unmatched glory of a collapsing star. This was what all Travelers longed to see before their inevitable early death from the drug. Onteia reached into the small container at the center of their pod, where there were enough green-tinted black shards to last a hundred Travelers a decade. She took a piece just over an inch long, and set it on her decaying molars, and b
HaikuStai cu spatele gol la mine.Haiku1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lumânarea se zbate lângă pat
și aruncă umbre de războinici
pe pielea ta fină.
Părul negru, lung,
îți curge ca cerneala pe spate...
Întind mâna, șovăitor,
și, cu grijă,
Îți întorci capul spre mine
și pentru un moment
iluzia lumii plutitoare
dar colțurile ascuțite ale ochilor tăi
în Țara Soarelui Răsare.
Cu răbdarea unui samurai
în audiență imperială
aștept, ca o stâncă, un ordin:
să îmi dau viața în luptă
sau să cad în propriul cuțit...
Dar sunt cruțat,
în noaptea asta
tu mă vrei
Morning haikuA burning sunriseMorning haiku1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The eyes catch fire
Wash my face in the pond
catch a falling star, put it in your pocketthere's something about those little brokencatch a falling star, put it in your pocket2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreamer girls with misproportionate promises
and lingering whispers,
who walk like angels, lost, and trying
to find a way back home;
whose hearts bleed abnormally loud
and resonant- those girls with
shadows like ghosts [dead and haunting],
that make them a flavor
to taint your tongue.
if you listen close, you can hear the
unraveling words that once knit the hollow space
between their bones,
you can hear their shallow sighs like
sun sets for a final time.
you can hear their ticking time bomb lungs
and you can touch their secrets, because they
wear them on their skin. not like wounds,
more like sun kisses or wispy tattoos
ingrained into who they are; you won't know
what they mean until you connect the dots
and find answers in their questioning stares.
they'd like to remain something unknown, because
they've identified the world as a disease- vile and
insidious, with the capability of sinking
underneath your flesh and changing who you are.
CapriciousWords have becomeCapricious1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
tasteless to me,
like rotten apples
fit for the worms.
it feels as
though I am
pirouetting my way through
a ballroom full of
tongues made for poetry.
wicked witch when
you need one?
All I seem to do is
dream while I'm awake and,
if we're being honest,
I was never much of an alluring tale
in the first place.
Metamorphobiait is a wonder all the changesMetamorphobia2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
that one endures in a day
at dawn, in fear, desperation,
then words pull you from the abyss,
your lungs inhale a swift elation,
the eyes perceive a kind of bliss,
then clouds, dark clouds, again in silence
the rain, the wind, the sun again
at last the dark, the taste of violence,
the sensual rhythm of a train
and like emerging as imago
you exchange fear for delight
you are a thing of many faces
depressed by day, a god by night
Through a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they saw each other.
Drawings on the walls
for messages of love.
Images don't matter anymore
as words are the only thing
that can travel
through that gap in the fence.
Whispers of love
and no one else cares.
Still they have not seen each other
through the small gap in the fence,
But of course
all good things must end.
The gap was closed
and their love was lost.
As time erases
their love was lost
and the lovers who met
through a gap in the fence
never got to whisper
their sweet nothings to each other
through a gap in the fence again.
From an English TeacherWhen you're forced to read just to pass English classFrom an English Teacher3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And you don't know what to do
Because novels are dull and dramas are daft,
And none of the stories sound true....
Our existence is a story told with schemes and different themes
And we live through them most every single hour,
You'd see if you just took a little look, it's like a book,
And as we grow up the plot begins to flower
Our lives unfold in stages, and are written down on pages
in a book that's hidden deep within our souls.
This dear town is just a setting and the people that you're getting
to know well are only characters and roles.
Every victory or failure can be thought of as a tale you're
gonna tell when asked "what happened to you today?"
And the funny little bits that happen when you use your wits
can be the funny things in dramas or in plays.
When you're doubting why we read, then here's something you should heed:
Your life is like a story, told in days.
And if that's just not enough, then, dea
Marriage as StatusWhen marriage is viewed as a sacrament, the one who affirms gay marriage is simply wrong. But this is because the sacrament is clearly (or to some, narrowly) defined. There are those who do not recognize the sacred, however, and there are those who see no value the vocabulary of sacrament. That's fair, and it's also the world/culture we happen to live in. It requires those of us to who see it as both religious and social to further reflect on what we mean by marriage in the social sphere.Marriage as Status11 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
Marriage as a legal concept is a status, and since many have condemned and pushed aside any religion—perhaps justly or unjustly—their main thrust in the arguments surrounding this situation is equal status among heterosexuals. It's not so much that I feel homo- and heterosexuals do not have equal status in the United States insofar as I think good strides have been made to reaffirm that homosexuals (all persons for that matter) are, in fact, human beings and treating them with digni
Una mattinaAnd once again this morningUna mattina1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I have succumbed to sadness
For much too long been blinded
By hopes of the divine.
And on this cruel morning
I see, despite your kindness,
That I was always yours,
but you were never mine.
Afterlife Astronaut“There is no God.”Afterlife Astronaut4 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Well, you don’t know that for sure-“
“Bernard, as an AI connected to every philo-science document, every parabyte of knowledge in the Human Empire, every logic string going back to the days of the Past Colonists... I can assure you, there is no God. It has been proven.”
Bernard sighed. His helmet visor fogged up then disappeared.
“I’m not going to bother arguing with you. Soon that golden gate is going to open, and I will walk into the Kingdom of Heaven. That should be enough proof.”
The gate in question was a smooth sphere of gold, slowly rotating on an equally dull pedestal. Crystal red spires pointed at specific points on the globe.
“You just don’t want to argue with me because you are in fear of how wrong you are. And how right a computer can be.”
Jude deserved to be muted, but sass like that always kept her voice a ubiquitous presence in Bernard’s helmet. A blue flash in the top
Shipping and Handling Chap. 9A warm, cheerful summer morning always succeeded in lifting the spirits of the residents of Ponyville, and this morning was no different. The sunlight bathed every inch of town with its soothing rays, signaling to everypony the start of another carefree summer day. It seemed there wasn't anypony for miles who was anything less than perfectly content.Shipping and Handling Chap. 93 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Anypony, that is, save for a certain grey pegasus, who was slowly being consumed by her own anxiety.
Ditzy trudged silently toward the front doors of Equestria Speedy Shipping Services. She opted not to fly for once; her distracted state of mind combined with her already poor vision had led her to several aerial accidents this morning alone, leading to a few hundred bits of property damage, and a splitting headache for the pegasus.
Ditzy couldn't understand what was holding her back anymore; a whole month had passed since Breeze had visited for dinner, yet the mare still hadn't told Dinky the truth about her job.
The unspoken rule.There's an unspoken rule about being someone's first love.The unspoken rule.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The first love is the only time it's pure.
After the heart has been hurt by the one it had loved so purely
It can never be the same.
Love will always be given with a hint or helping of caution.
It won't be given fully anymore so it hurts less to have it all given back.
Confessions will grow mild and just a little bit rehearsed
Just to make sure that our hearts aren't always hurt.
Even should the first love return for a second chance
The pure you once had will be gone with a fleeting glance.
I know this from experience, so please take my words to be true
That love is pure only once I now know that because of you.
Fadethe undone notes of beauty areFade3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
f a d i n g
in the silence
as she looks out the window.
it's dark out,
it's way too dark,
but then she begins to see.
she sees only patterns,
s h a d o w s
flitting in her periphery
and scaring her.
but this is just-
like every other night...
she reminds herself.
there's always morning, but morning
is when the demons come into focus
[and sometimes the blurred images are safer].
the inability to touch
the glaring eyes
and the inability to hear
the sharp words
is a relief.
so she sits patiently
and listens to the silence
as it explodes
into a chorus
that only she can hear.