The Shifter in the ShackDipper and Alex were preparing to leave the Mystery Shack for an overnight hiking/camping trip in the woods. Since Mabel was having a sleepover with Candy and Grenda, Alex had decided to ask Dipper about doing something with her for the night. Once he had agreed, they had settled on camping overnight in the woods, although Dipper was now having second thoughts.The Shifter in the Shack8 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Why don't we just have a sleepover here in the shack or something, instead of going out into the woods?" he asked as he and Alex came down from the attic bedroom. "I mean, the forest is full of all kinds of weird stuff, and spending the night out there might not be the best idea."
Alex laughed. "You're not chickening out now, are you Dipper?"
"No! I'm just a little worried, that's all." He replied nervously.
"Well quit worrying. We've had this planned for almost a week, and you are not backing out now."
"But…what if something happens out there? What if we're attacked by a bunch of zombies or something?"
"We'll be fine. Yo
stop me if you've heard this one beforei.stop me if you've heard this one before2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is a man on the corner of my street
who gave me a bottle of bleach
and told me if i drank it, i'd finally feel clean.
but i gave it back to him, and went home to take a shower.
because i am almost happy,
and i do not want to mess that up by
chugging bleach or fingering knives or thinking too much
about that man who turned my insides cold
from inside of his car.
because this has to be happy.
this has to be what happy feels like.
it feels like god gave me a vodka bottle
filled with nature and people and oceans and deserts and seas,
cause see, it feels like i'm drunk on life.
i have this nervous habit of scratching holes in my skin
and my mother says it's because
i'm trying to find something beautiful inside me.
she said i need a psychiatrist.
my friend asked me if i needed itching crème.
i keep laughing about stuff that's probably not funny.
i don't want it to rain anymore.
used to, i liked the rain,
because if i squinted, all the lines would be blurred.
Stranger in a CrosswalkIt was a daily routine, locking the bookstore at three each day to walk across the street to grab a cup of coffee. The wind was blowing hard enough to ruffle the hair on the crown of my head, and I clutched the collar of my jacket tight with both hands, looking both ways before crossing the two lane street.Stranger in a Crosswalk2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A woman stepped into the crosswalk not far ahead, her chin tucked down against a thick grey scarf, the earbuds of her iPod tucked firmly in each ear. She was oblivious to the world around her, not even bothering to check for cars as she stepped from the curb and into the crosswalk, her hands jammed into the pockets of her leather jacket.
As she neared, she glanced up and offered a shy smile before her eyes darted back to the ground at her feet. She was not classically pretty, but there was something cute, endearing even, about the small curve of her lips and the delicate point of her nose. She was a petite thing too, just over five feet tall thanks to the high-heeled boots she wore.
STC: Risan Holiday: PrologueSTC: Risan Holiday: Prologue10 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
September 25, 2268
The view of the Orion homeworld from the large window in the captain’s office was a good one, and Captain Cera Rigel leaned against the wall as she took in the sight. This was her first time in the system and she was, to be perfectly honest, rather nervous.
The Orion Syndicate was a well-known galactic power with an infamous reputation. The Orions didn’t have the military might or vast territory that the United Federation of Planets or the Klingon Empire had, but the touch of their green fingers could be felt for hundreds of light-years. They were merchants and pirates, businessmen and slavers. They didn’t care how they made their profits so long as the profits kept coming in.
Unauthorised ships who came to Orion without legitimate business were seized and the crews put into the slave markets. They were notably suspicious of any vessels from the Federation and checked their credentials carefully. Cer
UmbrellaheadsWe live in a city of smokestacks and umbrellaheads. A city split in two and turned upside down. A city dazed and unsteady on sixteen million feet, six feet under and darker than that. We live in a city that slept for the first time in nearly a century.Umbrellaheads2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
A city of people confused and bemused and infused with "what can I what shall I what must I do now?" It's a city that's hurting and breathing and fishing and wishing and laughing and living and waiting to wake up.
We live in a state of huddling and listening. Watching as the resilient basketball hoop in the driveway snaps in two as the trees behind dance in an insane tango, a physically improbable tango. We live in a state of blank traffic lights and trees flung like toys, leaves upside down and begging to be relieved of the shame of having fallen. We live in a state of emergency.
A state of people who exasperate and exaggerate and desperate to reach their families with no phone no internet no communication no no no. It's a state with th
Sciencefiction WritersThey are men who can dream of things that never wereSciencefiction Writers8 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
They are men who can dream of things that are yet to become
They are men who dream of the perfect cure
where no diseased will ever succumb
They dream of other worlds with alien life
of a society with no need
They dream of an earth without strife
or a world void of greed
They are men who can dream of things that never should
of a world gone wrong
They dream of things that always would
of a species standing strong
Their stories of grand display
inspire the scientists of today.
on commuting with no hurrythere you goon commuting with no hurry5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
lighting matches in the rain,
walking with two feet
that the gods gave you
because they cannot walk,
heading home as if with news
of some miraculous disaster,
counting the steps between yourself
and the clouds that disappeared
behind the grey veil of October.
thunder and lightning unfold
so close above
and you dream of a destination
somewhere in the south
where birds and stormy weather coexist.
behind you there is nothing,
running water will erase
every footprint you have left
on the dark sand of this metropolis.
before you there is distance,
enough to live your life
in a constant state of travel,
but not nearly enough signs
for you to know
where you are heading.
close your eyes
as not to be blinded
by the red lights and the yellow warnings,
those ever changing speed limits,
and open your arms
as to be looked at by the sun
that will soon peek out behind the nothingness,
ripping the veil
of the vast, unending
Lets Make Something of Decent BeautyI want you in my bedLets Make Something of Decent Beauty2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(And I do mean that in the most carnal way I can)
I don't want you to be asleep
I want you awake
lungs breathing, heart beating
underneath my fingertips and
I want your teeth on my neck and
Well your hands,
can go wherever they like.
Let me breathe in your air of heavy metal and off-drugs
So you can go home with scents of indie music and failed chastity heavy on your own hands
and demons heavy on your mind
Help me out here,
because night has stolen me away to write a more vicious fantasy for you to read and
the editor is taking out details here and there because
I guess unlike her, I want you to stick
You can stick to me.
The Solipsist's LotThere's something about yourself that you don't know. You probably don't remember the circumstances very well, but I do. If you enjoy things the way they are, if you revel in even the smallest speck of ignorance, you need not read ahead. I won't force you. But from what I know of you, you don't like secrets. Especially not when they are about you.The Solipsist's Lot3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You see, when you were born, so at once was everyone else. Your mother, she sprang into existence, just like that, the instant your tiny infant brain achieved the smallest semblance of self-awareness. Woven out of the ether, she remembered everything that never happened, and she looked down at you, cradled and squirming in her loving arms.
"Oh," she said. "So here is life."
The doctor was there too, although a moment before if there ever was a moment before he was not. He just nodded, smiling assuredly, and said, "Here is the beginning."
WorldWar World, Part IIHUMANSWorldWar World, Part II1 year ago in Settings More Like This
The human race – quarrelsome, divided against itself, and from the viewpoint of the Race mad, mad, mad – continues to strive for superiority over the alien enemy. Although they now have huge, crude versions of Race fusion power plants, and weapons tech as good and in some ways superior to that of the Race, (among other things, having developed chemical weapons warfare to a nightmare peak beyond anything the Race ever attempted) and are carrying out experiments in deep space-based living and resource extraction the Race never saw economic value or point to, humanity still lags in a number of fields. The tools to build the tools to build the tools still need to be built – Race computer hardware is still beyond humanity’s ability to mass manufacture (although human computer hackers have made mincemeat of Race computer defenses often enough to make it necessary to keep computer systems in Race territory entirely separate from human networks) and human gene-sp
How Did We Get Here?How did we get here?How Did We Get Here?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I thought I'd knew you so well,
That I could walk into the very pits of hell,
And save you from those demons of charm;
But all I see in your eyes is pure alarm.
How did we get here?
All I knew of love has been taken away,
Corroded down to ridicule of all we could say,
Dismissed by me but cherished by you long before;
Yet not this time when words are sore.
How did we get here?
I cannot decipher the truth from the lies,
Figuring you out while the pain inside cries,
Why do you hate me with a lover's gaze;
Would you plague me forever feigning this craze?
MAGGOT- A short storyMAGGOT- A short story8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
The boy nestled the hand grenade close to his chest . The deadly explosive felt icy cold even though the afternoon city was feverish with the summer humidity. He feared jostling it, so he walked quickly but with extreme care.
Shesh's bare feet padded as he navigated the rusting tin panels that lined the floor of this particular narrow slum alleyway. He could tell by the denseness of the air -and the smell- that he was very near the bottom levels of the many storied Sun City.
He knew they called it that because you could never see the sun this deep into the lower floors of the slums. It wasn't very clever. He figured that they just didn’t want to call it Slum City.
Cramped old apartment buildings, and scavenged bits of metal and plastic formed a rat warren of tiny overfilled dwellings and markets dozens of floors deep. Every twenty meters or so throughout Sun City, corroded water pipes and hulking bundles of cables crawled through the labyrinth like the roots of banyan tree
Paintwritten WallsI.Paintwritten Walls2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Militant files in manila folders
are shelved with the piano
and accordion binders.
The book ends and stacked
documents are scaffolding
on the shelf that is propped
against the cubicle wall.
The walls need to learn
to stand up for themselves.
He is sure of this.
The resonant hum of flicker
and fluorescence is a hymn
from the hymnals of Tesla
and a psalm from Edison.
The hum, he claims, will
careen him into carelessness.
So paint poet, paint.
The pages are
grotesque from aging,
and when he
a career but not a
calling he will paint
the barren pages
Dante’s smudged hand-
that extend off
smear his hand-
burn and tatter the edges
he has taught these walls
to listen and talk
Paint us a poem, poet— paint.
She cradles the creases in her
clothes carefully. Her charred
The Best is Yet to Comeif we grow oldThe Best is Yet to Come2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there will be a sigh
an attention to the change
as your muscles slacken underneath
your faded, favorite shirt
the one that's threadbare, "holy"
in a sense less than divine
I'll have washed it for
the thousandth time
our eyes will crinkle, wrinkle
in ways that start to match
and we'll hold hands and ask:
when did the nerves and veins
begin to let our hands get cold?
-if we grow old
wade liberation warwade liberation war1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Boy was about nineteen. A young man really, but his face made him look younger. Girl was younger, maybe fifteen, sixteen. Peter Bowen thought as he kept his distance considering the situation, studying the several people involved.
City of wade was under Arenian occupation for over three centuries now, and Arenian trackers seeking out mages to be drafted to their military force was hardly an unusual event. Most people who were learned in spellcasting kept their skills hidden, and their weapons were creatively concealed.
Still give it enough time and any trickery will stand revealed. Trackers were by now very skilled in noticing anything with engraved spellcasting spiral. A ring, a stick, the smallest of things. They knew what they were looking for.
This was what baffled peter as he studied the unfolding situation. Boy was blatantly wearing two short swords with the casting spiral boldly and prominently visible on their handles. Either he was a fool, of a foreigner who decide
tangled up in blue eyesHer hair was the kind of brown where you just knew she was born blonde. Eyes, big and bright, filled with a wonder I couldn't name or place. She kept a ribbon tied in her hair; never yellow, it reminded her of mothers and children. She was a mystery to everyone and a misery to me.tangled up in blue eyes2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They said that the colour of her skin was something that resembled perfection. White porcelain with peach undertones, something of a doll; a child made from china, painted colourful with deft fingers scarred blue.
Curiousity got the best of me and I looked too deep, too quickly; oceanic blue eyes that shifted like they'd already drowned every living soul that had stepped too close, sand-lined belly full, sated. I started to wish I'd learnt to swim but the waves were almost poetic, I kept yelling and each of my syllables would form a bubble that would float the surface and be lost. That was easy enough to explain with the laws of physics and the taste of salt water in my throat.
When i yelled at her in the hou
I think you left a piece of you in me.This tangled mess you call a heart,I think you left a piece of you in me.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
daisy veins & sin;
She's bringing me down.
& you were merely shivering
pressing winter bones
against my sun-stricken mouth,
darkness searching for a home
buried in my lungs.
You whispered breathe me
lovely in the inhale/exhale
of carbon dioxide suicide.
She speaks only of you now,
lonely & mourning beats-
Crack open this damn ribcage;
tree, fiddler crabIt took days to hollow out the soft partstree, fiddler crab2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of the trunk, dig out the tree-flesh and sap,
polish the raw wood so that when he sat,
there would be no splinters. He carved his name
into the side, like a blessing, a declaration
of good fortune, and stowed his forest inside.
simple math.it was the strangest thing to be complaining about, not likingsimple math.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
feeling -this- human. feeling so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and not
understanding anything that is going on but knowing that its actually
just chemicals that we’ve given names too
and far too fucking weak to handle the tidal wave of shitty chemical reactions you
bring with you.
the trouble isi'd like life to bethe trouble is2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
quiet and lovely
like distant church-bells
chiming through snow,
muted by the smell of
an old book and the
feel of a fire warming
me into my chair, and
a mug of tea, steeping
the moment in hushed
gratitude, easily in reach.
I Dream of CeresA sci-fi pulp.I Dream of Ceres1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Cerean Anthem blared out of the speakers of the cell’s viewplate. Trandon was awake beforehand, out of habit. He wore sonic-strength ear plugs just so he wouldn’t have to listen to that fucking song. They were proscribed items for that reason and he had paid out the nose to get them, but they were SO worth it. After the jingle came the news. This was worth watching solely because of the buxom newscaster (he had heard that the reporter in the women’s cells was a hunky dude, but he didn’t know for sure). She covered the usual shit; buy Cerean, work hard, brush your fucking teeth so you don’t cost the government a pair of dentures.
The work listings came on and he stopped looking at the woman’s chest and at the numbers that crawled up the side of the screen.
“Due to mishaps in the Level 23 dry-docks,” -people died- “the completion time for the freighter Chalmar Truntz is behind schedule. Ceres Astrowerks is
First day of School (request)First day of School (request)3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Kevin and Dave's mothers had signed them up for a private school. They were fed up with the constant irritation of everyday life of school. However, Kevin and Dave didn't mind it; school didn't pose a problem to either one of them. Their moms thought that they were exposed to fights, drug use and any other problem that would typically happen at school. And they were. They usually stayed out of the way of those things, too. But it was too much for their mothers to absorb that that was life. However, they also thought that Kevin and Dave were growing a bit of an attitude towards either parent. So, they signed both of them up for a private school, in which, they will both attend together as friends. The boys were confused; how were they, in anyway, 'have an attitude'? They were obediant children! They did their homework, listened to their parents and played games like any other boy would. They assumed it was probably something to do with the whole school problem. E
in the seams(a) when I was young I was a robin that stole the eggs from another's nest.in the seams3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fitted upon my stare there was a warning
personal's too personal for me, well i
would not use wings if i had 'em.
a child of rye with a silhouette spoiled by the sun, I was, I am.
and sometimes I see some vengeful sparrows still under my fingernails;
their glistening beaks snap melodies that rib a hundred bird-bone cages,
so light you could blow 'em away with a twist of your lungs.
and there are still words jailed between my teeth and my tongue and I do not speak of,
do not think of
but they rattle between bone and flesh and I
drown them sometimes when I sing.
(b) oh, you:
"love is a hobby like anything else, and I no longer have the time."
she asks me what I'm writing:
I am constructing a corpse can't you hear
me as I speak the meaning out of my name and
you bleed like I smile:
slowly, and without malice.
Felisian Chronicles Chapter 1Felisian Chronicles, Chapter OneFelisian Chronicles Chapter 17 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Ally sat on top of a grass covered hill, the summer sun warmly caressing her skin as she stared ahead of her at the road below, a forest visible behind it. She sighed sadly, knowing that nobody would hear her echo of sadness in this place of silitude... Although a sudden rustling noise behind her widdened her eyes and stiffened her back. Obviously she was startled, until she realised the sound was more than likely being made by her best friend. She relaxed slightly and glanced back over her shoulder, forcing a smile to her face as she called out,
Her words seemed to vanish as she stared in surprise at absolutly nothing. The gravel driveway behind her was deserted and an eerie chill rose up her spine as she glanced around the neighbourhood. Not a person was in sight.
Just as she started to turn away, another rustling noise came from the hedges lining the other side of the driveway and Ally stared intently and waited to see if it was Lily's cat co