Suffocate“I didn’t want him,” she says. “I wanted something, something I saw in the eyes of Libby, Sam, Sandi, and Agnes. Something that would have made our new world, our safe world, a home. Children were a part of that world and so I found myself a child. Perhaps, I thought, I would love him and everything would fall into place. Perhaps with a child I could be content with safety, and normality, and a world without knives taped on mop heads.” A cold smile. “I still catch myself thinking that. I still think that maybe tomorrow will be the day where I can fall asleep with the lights on.”Suffocate3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Carmen’s features are stark and cold; like the chiseled lines of Soviet propaganda etched onto an icy street corner. A straight decided nose, high sharp cheekbones, and thin pinched lips. Her eyes are black. We sit together in a small, bare walled, room on a pair of fold up chairs.
I frown. “You mean off?”
“No. I mean on. During the war
tell a liei. rivers are stronger than oceans despite their sizetell a lie2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they tumble through sharp mountains
but they never, ever stop
ii. i can rush and pick up sediments
and disperse them where i wish
iii. i'm lying -
i knew you saw it anyway,
there's seaweed in my fingernails
and salt on my breath
Reflections on the MetroThe population of the Metro car is sparse at eleven in the morning; people talk. The mother with her baby and young son, talking to her friend or sister or cousin sitting down. The young man and woman speaking exuberant Chinese, a language like a song. The group of students in floral dresses and Converse that my mom says look European because of their scarves. They're rapidly spewing French in the way teenagers do, only I've only ever heard it in English. It's comfortable, each of us with our companions, more like a restaurant or a museum.Reflections on the Metro5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
But at five thirty, at L'Enfant Plaza, when people are going home from work in their button-downs and suits and briefcases and iPods and tired eyes, it's different. Holding on to the silver bar above my head, I feel like I'm standing over the woman in scrubs holding her iPhone; I'm right by the doors they say not to lean on; it's crowded. And now everyone is silent, as if by proximity others can tell what they're thinking, and it's all they can do no
FFM: The Wandering FireThe wandering fire danced through the streets, flickering, silver quick, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Some said it was the souls of the dead passing from one world to the next. In a city as large as this the deaths were high enough to account for the frequent appearances of the otherworldly flames that cavorted down the narrow streets in the night.FFM: The Wandering Fire3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Rask waited in the shadow of a window ledge, his narrow frame curved into the twisted branch of a Hedya tree; its flowers already open to the moonlight and releasing the heady scent for which they were famed. This was a wealthy compound, all delicate lattice work and intricate stone archways, an exploration of colour and geometric patterns, all muted by the shadows of the night.
In his belt he had the knife, specifically given to him by his employer for this task. It was an unusual request, very personal. Rask tried not to involve himself in the intricacies of such things. He was merely useful to these people, and in his line of
Following Father's Footsteps I was raised by my mother for the most part, with my father leaving when I was only 10 years old. Mother never told me where he went, but she told me to not spend my life waiting up for him. My father's friend and closest ally throughout his adventures, a kind and wise woman, told me the same. As to why, I do not know... But wherever father is, I'm sure he is happy.Following Father's Footsteps1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
When I reached 18 years of age, I was inducted into the order of my father's friend: The Dragon Sages of Skyrim. The reincarnation of the Dragon Priests of the days of old, but we were not priests who excersised the Dragon's authority in their name. We were guardian angels of sorts, keeping watch over Tamriel, putting down Dragons that dare disrupt the peace, and so on and so forth. It was then I received a Dragon Sage's highest honor. I received a mask of my own "Morokei", as well as the Staff of Magnus the Dragon Priest once wielded. I was to become a powerful mage as my mother and father
An Emotion (Levi X Reader) DrabbleAn Emotion (Levi X Reader) Drabble1 year ago in Romance More Like This
If only you knew what you did to him.
If only you knew how he felt when you spoke. If only you knew how his heart raced at your laugh. If only you knew how beautiful you were in his eyes. If only you could see yourself the way he saw you. If only you could see his emotions, the ones he didn't agree to showing. If you saw any of that, you'd stop doubting yourself.
Though, as he thought about all of this, he wondered what it was to make him feel this way. What was controlling him to make his breath short when you smiled? What was telling him to pour his heart out to you when he couldn't form his words? What was all of this that made him feel the way he did?
He came to a conclusion that it was an emotion.
Clearly obvious that it was. But, to him, this wasn't happiness or sadness or another simple emotion. It was something much more than that. something the smartest man couldn't describe until he felt it himself. Something more powerful that fear, more powerful than pain. Something that co
Good Omens--Crawley: Nightmares.1Aziraphale fell in front of him, darkness from the figure lancing out and piercing him through the chest, his eyes locked on Crawley's. He screamed, mouth hanging open, but Crawley couldn't hear him because he himself was screaming, roaring a NO! to the world, while the figure laughed...Good Omens--Crawley: Nightmares.13 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Crawley shot up in bed, gasping, heart pounding, and sweating so hard that his hair and pajamas were soaked through. His face felt warm and his eyes were tight and dry.
Choking, the demon struggled out of his covers, falling off the bed in his haste. He didn't even bother miracling new clothes for himself--instead, he ceased to exist in his flat, appearing--again, in haste--in the middle of Aziraphale's bookshop.
Tearing through the main room towards the one in back ( though careful not to touch anything ), he practically forced the door off its hinges. Inside, a blond angel jumped about a foot into the air, tea flying off the table as his hands jerked in surprise.
Good Omens--Crawley: Nightmares.2Crawley snaps up in bed again, screaming aloud, grasping blindly for anything to hold him to the earth. The sheets are twisted around him and he is, once more, drenched in sweat.Good Omens--Crawley: Nightmares.23 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This time, however, comfort is not far away.
Aziraphale, woken out of his trance-like sleep by the screams, is quick to roll over in the bed and wrap his arms around the demon. He's been sleeping here for the past week, ever since the fifth night that Crawley had popped into his shop, frantic. It had taken some getting used to, this sleeping, but it had been worth it when Crawley had reported groggily one morning that it was better to have him there. It had seemed to get better for a few days, but recently, the nightmares were getting worse and worse...
"Shhhhh," the angel murmurs, rocking slowly as the demon clings to him. Incredible, really, how much like a child he is... Aziraphale thought idly. How different, how strange, to be needed so blatantly. &
FogMy skin is too tight today. It doesn't move with me, and I can't move within it. It binds and constricts, and I can feel my nerves burning. It's too soon.Fog9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Fog surrounds me, the water in the air clinging to the strands of my hair and the fibres of my clothes, bejewelling my eyelashes with glittering droplets. I can feel the mist pouring into my lungs as I breathe, cold and slow and thick like cobwebs, coating my insides with soft snow and sharp shards of ice. The air caresses me, moving around me, lapping at my ankles like the sea and pulling like the tide.
I can feel the thickness; feel the pure, palpable whiteness of it. I just can't see it.
I stand on this hospital balcony in the fog and let the cold damp sooth my fiery skin, quenching the blistering feeling that won't leave. I lift a hand to run it over my face, and although my fingertips can feel, my face is numb. Numb all over. It feels wrinkled and hard, leather-like and work-worn, too crude. It's bubbled with sor
No-Name (Collaborative Poem)His name's irrelevant,No-Name (Collaborative Poem)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
His image unknown.
He knows where to find you,
And when you're alone.
STC: Have Starship, Will Travel: Chapter 1STC: Have Starship, Will Travel: Chapter 15 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Uncharted Trinary System
February 22, 2270
The rim of the galaxy is a sparse and lonely place to be, and Calypso and her crew had been travelling through it for almost seven weeks. When someone mentions the rim of the galaxy, the image that comes to mind is a very slim region. But galactic real estate is big; very big indeed. On average, the width of each spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy is something like ten thousand light-years across. At the edges and trailing end of each arm the stars are far fewer in number when compared to the much denser interior of the galaxy. It’s literally darker and colder. On the other hand, being out on the very edge of the galaxy offers one hell of a view.
After leaving their Cêtarii hosts, Calypso’s crew set course for the distant Federation. For the first five days Cera had them cruising along at warp nine to break in the ship’s brand-new, hyper-advanced warp drive. But once she felt it
Mold Greg was cleaning behind his toilet on a Friday when a voice came from within the wall.Mold3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Hey!" the voice said. "Look, I give, all right? I'm coming out!" Greg watched as a stream of black-and-white goo poured out of a crack near where he'd been scrubbing. It smelled of mildew, and, when enough of it came out, formed itself into the shape of a man.
"What are you?" Greg asked, looking up at its globby face.
"I'm the mold that lived behind your toilet," it said, "and I'm here to be your friend."
"Because I didn't develop self-awareness without reason, and you're a loser who cleans his bathroom on a Friday. Get your keys; we're going to the park."
Greg drove. They went to the basketball courts and the mold won in one-on-one against Greg. Twice.
"You need to exercise more," it said. "
A Touch (Levi X Reader)A Touch (Levi X Reader)1 year ago in Romance More Like This
It's fairly simple when you think about it. A touch. Just a contact between two objects, human or not. By a touch, the first thing that usually comes to mind is a poke or something of the sort. Not for you. A touch, for you, is something more complex. Sure, it was a finger delicately running across your skin, but it was something else on a different level. You didn't think this way before. You were just like everyone else, seeing a touch as a simple unimportant thing. But he helped you see what it actually was. He was just unaware of his help, but that was fine. He didn't have to know.
It was one of those blissful nights where it was just you and him. You had a relationship, sure, but you weren't one to be very intimate with it. You were both new at this concept people called Love. Sometimes it was awkward, not knowing what to do with each other. Then other times it was funny, how he tried to act affectionate, only resulting in looking clumsy. But it was adorable.
Anyhow, it was one of
STC: Have Starship, Will Travel: EpilogueSTC: Have Starship, Will Travel: Epilogue3 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
San Francisco, Earth
April 4, 2270
Admiral James Komack entered the reception area of Admiral Morgan Rigel’s office and immediately noticed that the office furniture wasn’t Starfleet regulation – it was all real wood. Something that he felt was unnecessary and even ostentatious. Not strictly against regulations, but he disapproved nonetheless. Behind the reception desk was a lieutenant of Chinese ancestry and a very attractive one at that. She immediately stood.
“Good afternoon, Admiral.”
Komack gave a nod. “Lieutenant. Where’s Admiral Rigel?”
“Waiting for you in his office, sir. I’ll announce you.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Komack walked past her, gave the old-fashioned wooden door leading to Morgan’s office a single knock (more ostentatious decoration as far as he was concerned) and went in wit
Talo"Whispering Winds"Talo5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Full Name: Talo (Pronounced as Tal-low)
Age: Late teens to early twenties (in dog years).
Race/Nationality: Glacier Kumos (It's a kind of snowy white wolf with eyes that are completely icy-blue, a very light blue underbelly, and has triangular swirl-shaped markings on each shoulder, upper hindlegs, and over her left eye.)
Occupation: Protector of the Mountain.
Attributes: Is quick to action, selfless, kind, and accepting of others.
Hobbies: Hunting, searching for and helping lost people, playing in the snow, and running under Holan while she flies.
Quirks: Prone to bouts of depression over little things, unthinking at times, and clumsy upon waking.
Likes: Light snow flurries, the thrill of the chase, fat prey, Holan, and a cold spring day.
Dislikes: Blizzards, finding dead lost souls, losing her quarry, rot-food, and warmer climes.
Physical Description: She has a well muscled and lean body from hard living on the slopes. Her eyes
STC: Federation Graffiti: Chapter 4STC: Federation Graffiti: Chapter 47 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Open Space, S.S. Calypso
November 8, 2269
Two days after Calypso’s fateful encounter with the spatial anomaly, things were looking pretty damn bleak. With Jan and Kona lending a helping hand, Cera had managed to get the impulse engines back online. This meant main power was back up, but at full impulse even the nearest star system was decades away. The shields were up and running, and so were the transporters. The gravity plating on D Deck was still out, as were the phasers. Sajeen was trying to repair the broken nacelle on Nautilus. With all the systems needing repair around the ship, Cera hadn’t been available to help.
With impulse restored and Garadun at the helm, they’d taken Calypso in pursuit of their lost nacelle. He manoeuvred the ship into its path and physically brought it to a halt. After that he and Nessa got in their EV suits and lashed it to the ship with cables. Cera joined them in her own suit for an i
STC: My Big Fat Vulcan Wedding: EpilogueSTC: My Big Fat Vulcan Wedding: Epilogue2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Open Space, S.S. Calypso
September 20, 2268
When the door to Garadun’s quarters opened and Cera stepped inside, she found that the illumination was somewhat dim when compared to the way most people kept it. Off to her right was his bedroom, and it was lit by a single lamp on the night table by the bed. In the main living room, which she’d entered, there was again only a single tall lamp next to the sofa. In the study beyond the living room there were no lights at all.
It was 22:45 hours by shipboard time. Or as Garadun would insist: “That’s quarter to eleven, already. Enough of this hundred-hours shit.”
Her best friend was really quite old-fashioned in many ways; the room lighting was a perfect example. It was late at night so he kept things lit appropriately. He only used the lighting panels built into the ceiling during the day, and his quarters only had one per room. His living room was laid out l
Marukaite Chikyuu IrelandMarukaite Chikyuu Ireland6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Na na Daidí uisuki wo choudai
Na Na MAM, Na na MAM
Mukashi ni tabeta fisshuandochippusu no
Ano aji ga wasurerarenainda
Jitto mite chikyuu
Hyotto shite chikyuu
Aa hitofude de
Mieru subarashii sekai
DABURIN e no kunan no michi ha noru enpitsu da
("Chotto , Igirisu , issho ni Molly Malone uta~tsu te kika se!")
Hatto shite chikyuu
Funzori kaette chikyuu
Kawairashii dokuritsu no RECIPE
("shi nakere ba nara nai watashi Amhrán Na bhFiann?")
Sentopatorikkudēwa mankai da
Hei hei deartháir, uisuki wo choudai
tsude ni deirfiúr, watashi to issho ni nomu
Oi oi Seanathair, heiwa no ama sa
Hai hai Leanbán (igirisu ni iku koto ga ari masu)
Naa naa Daidí beer mo nomitai na
Naa naa Mam, naa naa Mam
Little FuryThe storm throws you to my door, drenched and bloodied, god-light dimmed. The crest of the hill is underwater. You have no boots.Little Fury2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Morning dawns cold, clear, a watery gold. You are gone.
FFM3: Don't Shake the Jars"It's just $5,000 dollars, for real?"FFM3: Don't Shake the Jars3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Andrew stared into the jar. He could almost see the people, but the outline of the city was very small, vaguely Ancient Chinese, vaguely Ancient Greece. The jagged edge of the what he guessed to be the main temple wasn't quite familiar.
"Some would say it's a bargain," the salesman said. From the way his lips thinned under his pencil thin moustache, Andrew got the impression he wanted to snatch the jar out of his hands and hide it on one of the many shelves. The store had hundreds of the jars, hundreds upon hundreds. If the man couldn't part with one, there was something wrong with him.
"I'll take it," Andrew said, handing the man his card.
He'd never really thought about owning an entire civilization before. He'd gotten lost looking for the Potion shop, and ended up in Civilizations R' Us. He'd seen the ads on tv, made fun of them with Kelly. Who puts civilizations in jars and sells them to amateur wizards? It wasn't just crazy, it was stupid.
selenium hand grenadesI.selenium hand grenades2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
neon lights and cigarette-flavored
lips together, hands buried in the leather
pockets of these never-lovers, these
cinder block hunters made into
cinders: only frostbite breath and
army jackets to keep them warm.
retaliating right angles are the ones
that angels can't compose; we are the sharp ones,
destined for single atom collisions and never
fitting, never getting quite close
breathing in the years like the clouds
of your breath,
dressed in cocaine ribbons just to shine
like plastic diamonds, damn all this fucking
estuary sand and this brackish
taste; this former age of elocutionary
sins is forever gone -
cars as coffins: the mud will take us in
as family, and drag us out to sea
with vows that mean more
than paper tongues ever will.