Still the Same Girl (Revised)The Abyss was singing her to Its bedside tonight, unfolding black sheets into soft and smoky wisps. Let go, It hummed. You gave so much already. Come rest, Nami. There’s no sense in fighting it any longer.
A few steps away from Bell-mère's grave, Nami’s body stood in the moon’s pale and unflattering glow. Her mind, however, wandered elsewhere, opening fragile memories she swore she’d never touch again.
She drew in a sharp, cold breath and hung her head low. Nami was as worn as an old sail flapping limply on the high seas. Those fierce winds, once filling her with joy, now seeped through holes that had been torn through her spirit. Many had knifed Nami, but none so much as her sister. Nojiko’s last words weaved in and out of her head: “You're still the same girl.”
Nojiko. She couldn't have been more wrong than a rock with an eye patch. That so-called “girl" had perished with her mother, Bell-mère.
A Coffin of InnocenceMy innocence lay in its coffinA Coffin of Innocence4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Under my bed.
"Come on and open me," it said.
"You would have heaps of fun if you did.
All you have to do is prop my lid."
I pushed my hands against my face,
From the very top, all the way down to my stubby chin.
"No, no," I cried, "You'll never do me in."
I heard a haughty laugh
Bellow from below.
Then the voice continued to persuade my soul:
"If you think I'm trying to 'do you in',
I can assure you, I will not make you sin.
I only wish for you to open me up;
Give a glance and backup
To a time when every
Cloud seemed to be lined with cotton candy.
Fluffy, pink, and etched in ink.
When parallels seemed to blend
And collect in a wad of rainbow at the end
Of your mind.
Ideas spiraled in and out of your head
Without a moment's dread
Of what will come soon enough."
I drew in a deep breath,
Wanting everything the voice had described.
None of it appeared cold, I rationalized.
Maybe I should just hurry and make a choice.
"Come. I'm waiting," drawled the v
The Walk of the InfatuatedI smileThe Walk of the Infatuated4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And hide my face
Behind a cloud of ignorance.
I want to be oblivious,
Want to be unaware
Of the fact that
You might not like me.
I hold my head
Higher than most,
Hoping, wishing one day
You'll notice me;
You'll see me at full value
And not at the value
The world gives me.
And if you never notice me,
I'll keep on walking,
Hands stuffed in my pockets.
My eyes will remain dead on the horizon,
My faith never changing,
Because I know someone else
Is waiting down that long and dusty road.
Conversation"I am driving in a Hummer. I am on a two lane highway. I was listening to Counting Crows before panic threatened to cut off my air supply. Air supply is a band. I have no idea what they sing. I'm pretty sure they were a clue on Jeopardy once. I…I…have to pull over so I can breathe."Conversation2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Omar put on his blinker and steered the over-compensation-mobile to the shoulder of the road. He fumbled with the lock on the door and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest when he tried to get out of the car and couldn't. Seatbelt. It was just the seatbelt. His hands were slick with cold sweat by the time the belt whizzed cheerfully back into its place and he managed to slide out onto the shoulder of the road.
He was glad it was so late and glad that the highway was so deserted. He was trembling so hard that the change in his pockets rattled and he never would have been able to speak if someone had pulled up and offered to help. He hated for people to witness his panic.
If the Sun Doesn't Rise for MeIf the sun does not rise for me tomorrowIf the Sun Doesn't Rise for Me4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Don't bathe in your sorrow
Don't come and mourn
Even though I am torn
I will see the light at the end of the tunnel
If you wallow in your tears for me
The person I was, please see
Remember me at my best, not at my worst
Like when we laughed excessively, for a first
Or when I looked into your eyes and realized
That maybe something in life could be idolized
If the sun does not rise for me tomorrow
Think of me
But let your future be full
Rumbles(The stage is dressed in white, highly reflective panes of glass hanging down from above, the effect being the interior of an opaline crystal. The panes are arranged randomly—not messily, but without a clear design or functionality to the arrangement. At various points around the stage, there are “mounds” which crop up at various heights. The light is soft and clear, yet there is a sense of movement—a sense of life—in it. MAN is sitting just off-center, on a relatively short mound, and is biting into an invisible apple.)Rumbles2 years ago in Drama More Like This
(calling upward) Do you hear me chewing up there? (to the “apple”) Nice and crunchy. Nice and crispy—no, “crisp,” rather. Nice and crisp. (calling upward again) Do you hear me? (beat) Hmm… Whether I eat the core or not, I believe, has no bearing on my state. Doomed, damned, done for.
(MAN finishes the “apple,” throws the core back ov
Those Green EyesShe glanced back over her shoulder. Her green eyes appeared to glow in the sunlight sifting through the window. "I'll see you later, right?"Those Green Eyes4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Yeah. Um, does five sound good?"
She walked back to him. "Five sounds great."
He smiled, staring into those green eyes again. "All right. I'll see you then."
A man of about twenty-five years shuffled his way up to the top of a hill. In front of him stood a mass of people, all dressed in black, some stifling their faces with tissues, others were guiding family members with a firm hand.
God, if I had only known...
But he hadn't. He had been waiting patiently at that cheesy Italian restaurant on the corner of Wayne Street and 7th Avenue for two long hours, the alight candle on his table dwindling to an idle ember. After forty minutes passed, he called her on his cell phone, and left a simple message telling her to call him back as soon as possible. Three martinis later, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He rushed to
if death had kissed meif death had kissed me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As i lay here dying,
choking on my bloody breath,
i feel the agonizing caress, of the ruthless thing called death,
I smile as his kisses, make my vision darker,
i breath a snicker, as i watch your pleading face gets starker.
now your sad to watch me go,
death is a weed in the garden of life, watch it grow.
death kisses my throat, making me choke,
why are you crying? my life was just a joke.
Because death now fancy's me, IM important, IM loved,.
because my chains of life, are being pulled from above,
i smirk as you stare,
watching you sob and gasp for air,
death hugs me close, my body tightens,
at the end of the tunnel, a light brightens,
blood fountains from my paling lips,
on my "pretty" little face the paint begins to chip.
the worthless is fading, as he brings the kiss to a close,
so i'm sad, now everyone knows.
To late to try and fix it,
as my heart pumps its final beats, i don't regret it,
death draws back, this kiss is sealed,
death has dealed,
now im gone, away from the pain,
Angels of my nightmaresAngels of my nightmares4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So, i used to have this angel, with pitch black wings,
he showed me such dark, pretty little things,
and in the darkness, he held me close.
he treated me like a princess, better than most,
but one day, when i reach for my dark angel through the dark,
i felt no warm finger tips, no loving spark,
he left me.
I cried, begged, made a plea,
that he would come back for me,
Then, something shined through my darkness,
it took away my hate, worry, sadness, and stress.
when i reached, it took my hand,
i was able to stand again,
i smiled, as i saw a different angel, with white wings,
he showed me such happy, beautiful things,
i laughed and smiled,
he was spontaneousness, brave, loving, and wild,
then, my dark angel came,
furious and needy,
my white angel snarled, thinks my dark angel greedy,
my light became shadowed, everything a daze,
choking on the gray in a panicked haze,
they hissed and growled,
bared teeth and prowled,
my dark angel left me again, broken and sad,
my light angel held me, furi
The Ballad of Kennesaw Mountain"What should I tell them, Mr. Bierce?" Carrie calls. "Señor Villa will ask about you!"The Ballad of Kennesaw Mountain2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I walk away from the camp. The desert is cool at night, quiet and inviting. It's full of snakes and cacti and poisonous lizards, but that seems a fair trade for cool sand under bare feet and the stars. "Mine eyes have seen Brown's body—oh, curse it. Why can't I remember how that song goes?" I never have been able to remember the lyrics, not since I bumped my head all those years ago.
"Mr. Bierce! Ambrose! It's not safe!"
My secretary has never dared to call me by my first name, an occurrence curious enough that I almost turn back. But I'm walking, and it doesn't seem right to stop. "Make up a story, Carrie. Tell them something interesting. Bet you anything it'll be better than mine."
The Battle of Kennesaw Mountain occurred on July 27th of 1865. Ambrose Bierce fought for the Union, but he suffered a head wound. He spent three days in bed, slipping in and out of consciousne
Captured InnocenceHorror speaks in silenceCaptured Innocence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And fear speaks in signs
It's written on my face
and on the faces I see
How did I end up here?
A masked man brought us food
The smell of it drives us crazy
We eat like we're crazy
Devouring it like messy animals
I see the eyes of superiority
In the sight of the masked man
I look at them with deep curiosity
He looks back with a look of intent
Deep blue eyes inspect the whole me
Then I realized everyone including me
Wears nothing but just two pieces of undergarments
I quickly cover my w
The Machine"How's your goddamn math going to help us out of this now?" she practically spat the words onto the soft earth that they were talking across. Their feet sunk into the soil, making dirt cling to their shoes and stick into the ground as they traveled across.The Machine2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Shut up," Jamie spewed back. It was just a harmless experiment, one that he was trying to do by following a guideline that he normally ignored before. Instead of looking at his numbers, and thinking about what calmed him, he went on through with his experiment using his numbers in a whole new way that he hadn't tried before.
Many hours ago, that it almost seemed like an eon ago.
Hours of labor and work had finally paid off. If all his calculations were correct, then he had finally managed to build something using just metal, wires, electricity, and his numbers. The numbers that got him through life every day and every night. Specific numbers, he wasn't just any old fool who chose random numbers depending on what worked best. No, the
The Story of Half an HourI hate Christmas Eve. I haven't always. It started when I was old enough to realize it was bad that boys didn't like me, and that same hatred has continued to this day. All of my friends are busy being cutesy with their boyfriends and I'm stuck, in a bar, in New York, alone.The Story of Half an Hour2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be stuck in New York for Christmas than be back in my tiny town in Northern California, but I'd also rather be spending it with someone special. Someone who'd give me a necklace, or heck, anything, smothered in love. Instead, I am sitting on a stool, fingering the fraying edges of my black fingerless gloves while I listen to the bartender breaking up a fight.
Lifting my head slightly, I survey the bar. There are quite a few single men, but the majority of them are not attractive, like the guy over in the corner with thick, bulky glasses and a large pimple on his nose or the burly man with huge arms covered with tattoos of half naked women. Averting my eyes, I turn instead to the other
The Toll of IgnoranceAn addiction runs through my veinsThe Toll of Ignorance4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And beckons my name,
Calling from afar,
Leaving my heart's door ajar.
I listen, perplexed,
By the ease of the task.
All I had to do was pick the bottle of the floor
And shake a little more
Out of its glass borders.
Then put the rim to my lips,
And drain the contents within.
So I go about my business
All hours of the night,
Subconsciously hoping that someone will catch me in the act
And show me the light.
But as I watch people pass me by,
I wondered if they even question, "Why?"
With each drunken step I take,
A child's life is at stake.
Yet they scold and turn a blind eye.
I will make them question, "Why?"
When a loved one's body disappears and is turned into the FBI.
For it was their fault
When they saw me stumbling down the street
With nothing to eat
But the salt
On the soles of my shoes
And the beer
Dripping from broken bottle shards
And looked the other way,
Going on with their oh-so perfect day.
Omari.Omar2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Приезжай, Омар" (Come, Omar)
my fingers skim the cold breeze
as I call to him and my voice
gentled in the harsh landscape
slides across the ice,
January's gift to Vladivostok.
His heart wants to follow me,
leave prints that prove he is not a ghost
in this lonely city
so far from home.
His fear, also, is not a ghost,
and it stills his feet.
From Nebraska it has hounded him,
chasing us down and isolating
this once lively man:
I am all he has left,
here where the snow is scarce
and the sky bites at us,
bitter, perhaps, but beautiful.
"Приезжай, Омар" (Come, Omar),
I cry again.
"Это безопасно" (It is safe).
For me, he would do most things,
but some hurts run too deep
and I wonder again
what he first fled
that opened into the wound
Judgement guide: Pokemon typeJudgement guide: Pokemon typesJudgement guide: Pokemon type2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In Judgement: A HG Nuzlocke; every species of pokemon has their own type that defines their personality in some way. Pokemon with a secondary type are more inclined to have traits of both types (but the primary type is more influential) but pure types tend to be more inflexible to other types yet more powerful in their own element.
Lifespans: 40 years
Habitats: Forests, marshes, swamps.
Strong against: Psychic, Dark, Grass.
Weak against: Fire, Flying, Rock.
Bug typed pokemon are commonly known as the weakest type, due to their small size and frail attacks people tend to underestimate these pokemon. Bug types stick together in swarms and they usually attack their prey in large numbers. They are also stuck at the bottom of the food chain since very few of them are predators. Bug types are a passive species but are highly protective to anyone or anything they hold dear. They are also masters in the art of team work and are skil
Stranger on Sandy Neck Beach“Let's give it another go, son.”Stranger on Sandy Neck Beach2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jamie looked as if he was in physical pain; his eyes were almost closed with frustration, and his hands were clasped together behind his head.
“I give up, Dad. Let's just leave it.”
The raft was watertight - Damien knew it, even if his son did not.
“Come on, Jamie. We've worked on this for almost two hours now. Don't give up!”
Jamie fixed his Dad with a stare that looked like it would wilt any plant life unfortunate enough to be caught within his line of angry, brooding sight.
“Dad, we've found what is clearly the most buoyant wood on this beach. We've tied it together as best we can. It doesn't float. And even if it could float, we've also only got a tiny rag for a sail – no wind would take this thing anywhere.”
Damien shook his head.
“Come on, son.”
Damien tried to meet his son's eyes, but to no avail; Jamie subconsciously relegated his eyes to blankly stare at the sandy ground at his f
The FortressI built a castle on the shoreThe Fortress6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It sat upon a base of stone
Proud and strong forevermore
a fortress made to stand alone
I stood upon the rampart wall
When first I spied you from afar
I could not hear your siren's call
Nor read portents from a star
And if predictions I had known
None of them would have changed my course
just as the hurricane wind blown
does not diminish in its force
Yet when you met those sturdy walls
they could not stand before your touch
It rained destruction in the halls
No bastion could withstand so much
When in the center of the storm
You came to me with tenderness
personified in human form
and spoke to me not to impress
But blew apart my last defense
And laid my heart's door open wide
I came to you without pretense
Surrendered to you all my pride
Now trembling, hold you close to me
In fortress ruins by the sea
A gryphon sneezing?A gryphon sneezingA gryphon sneezing?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(This is not to insult only to humor some flaws.)
We all hear about how majestic and elegant gryphons can be.
But I ask you this one question.
Have you ever heard a gryphon sneeze?
Open any book! Read it page for page! You will find wingspan to feather variation but alas!
Not a thing on that time a gryphon sneezed!
But I will tell you one thing...
A gryphon sneezing could be the strangest sound to hear! The silliest sound to hear!
A mighty lions roar and a birds squawk what a shock! Maybe... Just maybe a gryphons sneeze could...
Turn water to wine?
Mountains to dust!
Shake the dead!
The books and legends never spoke about such events not happening!
When a gryphon goes to sneeze shove a paw or claw on it don't let it sneeze for our sake!
Books seemed to be unable to write of such events! How could they have missed such a thing?
I ask how?
I ask why?
But alas... We may never know~
Llamas with Hats Human AdaptedLlamas with Hats Human Adapted4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Carl, there's a dead human in our house!"
My best friend-and roommate-Carl, was in the kitchen, doing the dishes, which was odd, because Carl never did the chores.
He shuffled over and poked the dead body with his foot. "Oh...hey...how did he get here?" Blood was pooling on the floor, from multiple stab wounds in the dead man's chest.
His lying tone was obvious. I stared at him, alarmed. "Carl, what did you DO?!"
He waved a hand nonchalantly. "Me? I didn't do this."
"Explain what happened, Carl!" I said angrily. These kinds of things seemed to happen whenever I went out...
"I've never seen him before in my life!" Carl protested.
"Why did you kill this person, Carl?!"
"I do not kill people. That is..." he couldn't help glancing back towards the kitchen. "That is my LEAST favorite thing to do."
I sighed. "Carl, tell me exactly what you were doing before I got home."
He frowned and shifted
Llamas with Hats 3-Human AdaptedBuildings were burning. People’s screams filled the air. Cries and moans could be heard from the injured, the victims of the horrific attack that’d happened here.Llamas with Hats 3-Human Adapted2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I sighed and plopped down on the remains of the city hall, staring out at the havoc that’d been wreaked by none other than my own roommate. “Carl, we’re supposed to be on vacation…”
“I don’t know about you, but I am having a wonderful time.” Carl walked over, carrying suitcases in each hand. He was wearing his beanie of course, and a t-shirt that had ‘Viva la Résistance!’ written on it in scrawled lettering.
“You toppled the South American government, Carl,” I told him.
He grinned in response, putting down the suitcases and indicating to his shirt. “The people have spoken. Viva la Résistance!” He pumped his fist in the air.
“You pushed the resistance leader into a giant fan.” One of which I wasn’t sure wh
Who Are WeWho are weWho Are We4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what is not
Who are we
to judge the
an old man,
a young woman,
and to tell them
"This is poetry"
"This is not poetry."
Who are we
Who are we
I call it a poem.
But if you took it
normal, neat, even lines
then you would see
just a normal sentence with funny spacings.
And isn't that
A Bald Man's TaleOn the island where I was born, there were many drunks. That is life in Russia. Sadly, my father was one of them. He had a good job, a good home, and a good family, but he left it all not long after I was born. He simply disappeared into the city one evening. There was a picture of him on our mantel, and on many difficult days, I would look at it and curse his name.A Bald Man's Tale2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We left that house and that island. My mother brought the picture. I suppose she missed him, but my sister and I were too young to know him by anything but that one stern image. He seemed to taunt me until the day I left home. He haunts me still.
One January day, when I was a young man who traveled alone, I found myself returning to that little town. I stood outside that old stone house where I was born, and wondered why he had left. I knelt in the lane and wept for some time. A young woman came out of the house, and she asked me what I was doing. I stood and told her, "I am hating the name of my father, who left us in this
Llamas With Hats 2 [Human Adapted]I watched the burning ship sink on the horizon, then turned to my roommate, who was sheepishly grinning at me. "Carl, what on Earth was all that?"Llamas With Hats 2 [Human Adapted]2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I'm not sure what you're referring to," he said innocently.
"You sunk an entire cruise ship, Carl!"
"Are you sure that was me? I think I would remember something like that." He sat down on the floor of the lifeboat we were in, crossing his legs and looking up at me.
I crossed my arms. "Carl, I watched you fire a harpoon into the captain's face." I didn't even know how Carl knew how to fire a harpoon!
"That sounds dangerous."
"You were head-butting children off the side of the ship!"
"That, ah, must have been horrible to watch." Carl's expression said different--he looked like he was enjoying this.
"And then you started making out with the ice sculptures!" I cried, exasperated.
Carl smiled, as if in doing this, he'd been doing a great service to society. "Thank god that the children weren't on board