the human syntaxmottledthe human syntax2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there are carbon copies walking the streets
cut/and/paste people who
deracinated from scriptured roots rarely
ever realize that history is always unfolding right before them
or that somewhere in the bubbling
ooze of their jurassic hearts
a pasquinade has sprung
an unintended flood of reasoning
and merry mutants will come out to play
in scorched supernova shadows
while predation in the bio-mass
reached its all-time lowest
as shown in graphs designed to demonstrate
The Things I Don't Write AboutOn the last day of class, she had us copy a poem into our journals.The Things I Don't Write About1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.'
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'
And to each of us she wrote a message. To me, she wrote that I should not be afraid to visit the dark parts of my mind, for that is where I would find my best writing.
I unravel these things and weave them into other stories. Other voices. I use them, in bits and pieces, like an archeologist uncovering the broken shards of a pot and never finding the whole. I write the stories that belong to other people, but never my own.
I don't write about how it hurts. How the
DesperadoIn 1996, Deep Blue beat Kasparov, The Unabomber was arrested, and I was preparing to graduate high school and go on to Texas A&M when I received a phone call at three in the afternoon as my school was letting out. In the school office, my father told me what, at the time, was the worst news I had received in my young life: Jerry Carson had died.Desperado3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jerry Carson was my oldest friend. To this day, I have no idea where he and my father met, only that they did and that one of my earliest memories was of Jerry Carson and myself watching some old Western movie on the couch on the fuzzy old TV in 1981. He'd drift in and out of my memories for the next decade, always reappearing eventually until that day in early May of 1996, when I found myself standing over his simple coffin at a funeral attended by all of sixteen people: me, my father, my girlfriend, two bartenders, the pastor, seven other positively ancient men, and a three-man detachment from the Red River Army Depot there for the salute.
Shadowbolts"Shadowbolts"Shadowbolts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're walking through the woods
When a sound sends shivers down your spine
A thunderclap from Hell
Makes you pray for protection divine
Something moved, what was that
Shadowy figures in the trees
Thundering hooves, glowing eyes
Makes your blood turn to freeze
Night fall, hear them coming
Don't think, just start running
Shadowbolts - your worst nightmare
Shadowbolts - you best beware
Dark mist and fog surround you
Your body is shackled with fear
A silence that's so cold
Broken by whispers in your ear
Apparitions, tempting you
Promising your hearts desire
Their mission, snatch your soul
And cast it into the fire
You hide, they'll find you
Don't look behind you
Shadowbolts - there's no escape
Shadowbolts - Your soul they'll take
Seek you, near or far
Wherever you are
Shadowbolts - there's no salvation
Shadowbolts - spell your damnation
State of MindThey buried her today.State of Mind3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I stood in the crowd, all of us dressed in blacks. I straightened my tie nervously as ladies I didn't know in big, veiled hats exchanged soft, sad words about what a shame it was. How she'd been so brilliant, how she'd had such a full life ahead of her. Ladies that didn't even know her.
There was a coffin, but there wasn't much in it. They didn't open the casket either, like they did sometimes. The man at the funeral home had said there was a limit to how much they could make fit for viewing, and I didn't really blame him for not even trying.
"This sucks," Cindy told me. We were sat at one of the cheap metal tables they roll out for occasions like this, both of us with a glass of alcohol in our hands. I hadn't asked if it was wine or something else. Didn't care.
"Yeah," I agreed, tone muted. We exchanged a look, Cindy's eyes heavy and ringed, her face lined in stress like a mirror of my own. Together, we drank. It was white wine, dry, about a 4. She would have li
The Normality.There is a cloud of fish swimming by my ankles, light flashing off their sides as they turn as one. Moss grows on the walls and occasionally an eyelid, soft, green, damp, will lift and a multifaceted eye will glint out. On my arms, there are flowers, large fire red lilies with orange throats that have sprouted where my large dark freckles are, each one just smaller than my palm.The Normality.1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I look over my friend sitting just off to the side of me, there’s a blush of blue-purple scales on her cheeks, gills flutter on the sides of her neck and every time she breathes out, sweet smelling oil pours from them, trickling over her collarbones.
Something sings near me, the piping call of a rainforest bird, and I turn my head. There are hummingbirds in my hair, I realise, ruby throats shimmering as they sing; they are caught in the long waist length strands woven into a thin fish-weave cage. They do not seem distressed, flashing the rich green of their wings as they flutter from one woven bar to anot
Natalya Aleksandra Ryzhkova - BiographyNatalya Aleksandra Ryzhkova - Biography3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Full Name: Natalya Ryzhkova
Code Name: Koshka
Date of Birth: December 25th 1982
Place of Birth: Novosibirsk, Russia
Rank: Senior Lieutenant
Occupation: SVR Field Agent
Hair Colour: Brunette (with a flare of red in the fringe)
Eye Colour: Green
Weight: 139 lbs
1999 - Russian Ground Forces
2002 - FSB
2004 - Alpha Group
2010 - Vympel
2013 - Voron
Martial Arts/combat skills:
- Ground Forces: specializing in intelligence
- FSB: Cyber warfare and counter-intelligence
- Spetsnaz: (Alfa/Vympel) rappelling, parachuting, chemicals, explosives, advanced CQB, spy-craft, languages/accents... etc.
- Systema: Koshka is a dedicated Systema
Empty GardensIt was a wine-petaled pansyEmpty Gardens3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that my mother pruned from the garden box;
it reminded me
that I had blossomed late and wilted.
At fourteen I created pansy petals of my own,
waking up with hot-fisted cramps
and the proof I was a woman.
I was not a rose, perennial,
as I went from blooming monthly
to not at all.
I would rather spend a day
curled up like the fetus I may never carry
than flat on my back wondering
why God allowed worse women than me
to bear children.
Hetalia: Reaction to The Stereotype Song"Are you ready?" America asked, as the other nations gathered around his laptop.Hetalia: Reaction to The Stereotype Song3 years ago in Humor More Like This
They nodded, eager to listen to the strange song that the alien Tony had sent to America, who hadn't listened to it yet.
I think I love you more than the
Japanese love tentacle porn-
America quickly clicked the pause button, shooting a horrified look at Japan. "WOAH, dude! I totally didn't know you liked that stuff!"
The latter blushed a dark shade of red and stammered, "I-It is untrue, I do not watch such things "
And we should dance dance dance d-d-dance to these
Let's come together and live in this world like a
unibrow on an Indian girl,
And we should dance dance dance d-d-dance to these
"Dudes, do any of you know what a 'stereotype' is?" America asked, looking terribly confused.
"I'm not sure, but I think the dictionary says it's 'a set of inaccurate, simplistic generalizations about a group that allows others to categorize them and treat them accordingly'.
Official FFM Prompt Bank 2014:iconflash-fic-month:Official FFM Prompt Bank 20149 months ago in Editorial More Like This
This promptmobile has been parked up rusting for a whole year. It needs an oil change, a lick of paint and some air in the tyres. We're presently sourcing some fluffy dice for the mirror and a nice novelty airfreshener.
Most importantly, though, the tank is dry as a bone.
Time to siphon us off some promptjuice. Fuel us up with your best original prompts for people to dip into during the month when they need creative jump leads.
As always, the chosen few will be chosen, featured and credited in our daily updates.
Protip: We can always use visual prompts, musical prompts, prompts in the form of interpretive dance and other variegated promptitudinousness as well as the usual prompts made of words.
VIVA LA FFM!
Runaways Chapter 1Dovewing was on watch at the Clan entrance after getting her warriors name. She sighed as everyone went to sleep.Runaways Chapter 15 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I have to do this." she whispered to herself.
Making sure it was silent and everyone was asleep, she quickly and quietly escaped through the entrance and out into the forest, heading over to pines. ShadowClan territory. A dark brown tabby figure sat waiting on the ThunderClan territory. A threat? Dovewing went into a crouch. She padded closer and closer. Then she leaped, tackling the ShadowClan cat.
"Dovepaw! You'll wake everyone up!" Tigerheart hissed.
"That's a great way to say 'hello' to a new warrior!" Dovewing whispered in a dissapointed tone.
"Sorry, I just wanna get away with this." Tigerheart mewed.
"It's alright. Where are we going to go?" Dovewing asked curiously.
"I don't know, by the way, what is your new warrior name?" Tigerheart questioned.
"Dovewing." she murmured.
"It's a beautiful name, Dovewing." Tigerheart smiled.
"I think I know where we should go!" Dov
Forum Whores Party... Hard?Forum Whores Party... Hard?4 years ago in Settings More Like This
The party was a work of art. There were llamas. There were horses. There were guards for the horses in case CindarellaPop tried to glue horns to them and call them unicorns. There were dictionaries for the inevitable arguments about word use, and cameras for SylverKitsune to camwhore with. Everyone was handed black and green hats in a variety of styles. The walls were covered in pink to appease LOVEintheSNOW. Foxbane had been convinced to bring cuddly skunks, whether flashing green or not. I, typically, had discreetly placed handcuffs and whips in various locations. A party just isn't a party without some kinky happenings, am I right?
The problem started with the DJ. A furious debate over what was good music for parties ended with several of the participants beating each other over the head with history books and CDs. The frightened DJ tried to escape and crashed into a llama, prompting another debate over animal rights and what constitutes animal abuse. The llama panicked and crashed
100 Themes Art Challenge100 Themes Art Challenge100 Themes Art Challenge4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
13. Mother's love
15. Phone Call
24. Water Nymph
25. Bad Priest
31. Black Board
32. Long dress
34. Creamy Wash (It's facial foam that will turn into a creamy thing when used. If you have no facial foam like this in your place/city/country, just change it to regular facial foam.. = =
38. Little girl
46. Angel of Aurora
53. Love in the air
America x Shy!Reader: His Best Friend (Part 1) The movie being played on the (TV/projector screen) of your classroom did nothing to gain the attention of your fellow classmates. Lazily scanning the room with your (e/c) eyes, you could see most students were too occupied with their own mindless chatter. There were a few tables tightly packed with groups of close friends, while other students were either using their phones, doodling, or talking with the few remaining people around them. These were the good days of the last week of school, having nothing to worry about except for any upcoming plans for summer vacation. You were sitting calmly with your friend(s) while doing what you guys usually did during free time in class.America x Shy!Reader: His Best Friend (Part 1)2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“So (Name), are you and Alfred going to be seeing each other a lot over the summer?” your friend/one of your friends asked you nonchalantly. They had their chin resting in their hand as the same arm propped their head off the wooden table.
A small smile appeared on your face as you answere
How to Hook a ReaderHow to Hook a Reader1 year ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
I should note that this article will be primarily concerning YA fiction, as that is what I know most about. You may notice that some of these openings use elements that I cautioned against in an earlier article. Told ‘ya there were bountiful exceptions to writing “rules.”
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis
“There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.”
This one is just awesome. I adore some subtle humor in a book, and it’s a great way to start out if you’re witty enough. This short and amusing opening line tells us a lot about the character in a very short time. His name also gives an indication that he is not from the land of Narnia, but is probably from England, if this book is to be similar to the ones prior to it in the series. We know something about his age in t
SSS, TTM story part 8Sonic, Shadow, Silver, The Three MusketeersSSS, TTM story part 84 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
By Arecus. Conberma
Chapter 9: Sword of Aramis
Soon the daybreak has come, there was no difference between the world of reality and the world of storybook as the ray of the sun shore warmly on everyone part of the France, or maybe even farther. Anyway, when the sunshine shore on Marian the kind witch's house, the light had lied on Shadow's forehead which made him feel the warmth of it and soon woke up.
He stretched his back and got up to his feet, and yawned but tiredly, and trying to keep it as quiet as possible. Then, he saw Sonic and Silver who were still sound asleep, and soon he realized the sudden fact what happened the previous night, he couldn't believe that they were brothers all this time!
'I think some fresh air will make me feel better.' He thought as he walked out of the house.
When he was out, the sky was incredibility pure blue, even bluer than the sky of their own world, of course, everything was almost
He Calls Me BeautifulHe Calls Me BeautifulHe Calls Me Beautiful3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
He calls me beautiful
And I don't believe him
Because my eyes are too full
Of the tears I almost drowned in
He wraps his arms around me
And kisses my damp, salty hair
But I still can't see
Even if I know he cares
The competition has taken its toll
And I'm too tired to stand
He doesn't let me fall
So he guides me by the hand
It is like learning to walk all over again
Because I learn that rushing forward
Blind big steps lead to a tragic end
And he stays with me for the hard part
He calls me beautiful
And I don't understand
Why he's being a tool
Loving me when I can't
He has soothed me with a lullabye
In my darkest nights
In his arms I cry
I don't resist or fight
He doesn't judge my faults
As they come pouring out
He gently takes my flaws
Tying to keep the pain out
It is like falling asleep
You're unprepared for the dreams
If they're memories you keep
Or visions that tear you from the seams
You call me beautiful
And you kiss my lips
My silence is inexcusab
BEN DROWNED X Reader-Passing Death pt.1"You need to pass on. You can't stay here."BEN DROWNED X Reader-Passing Death pt.11 year ago in Drama More Like This
"No! I'm not dead! I can't be dead!"
"You have to pass on. You are dead. Accept it."
"Just shut up! I'm not dead! There's nothing to accept. Just go away! This is all a bad dream! It's gotta be."
"….Please..just pass on already. You're making it worse on yourself by staying here."
"Please..please! Just leave me alone! Go away! I wanna wake up! Just wake up! Just wake up!
"________! Wake up! Wake up!" Your eyes snapped open and your head shot straight up at the sound of your friend calling your name. You looked over at her and smiled as you rubbed your sleepy (e/c) eyes.
"Oh, good morning Helinia."you say.
"Good morning my butt! It's time to go home _____. You were sleeping throughout the block. All blocks in fact, are you getting any sleep at night?"Helinia asked you, nudging her finger into your right cheek as she did. You nod and smack her hand away.
"I get sleep. Just not much."you tell her. Helinia puckered her lips and p
StormStormStorm1 year ago in Academic Essays More Like This
People always say that life isn't fair, and they’re usually right. Bad things happen to good people about as often as they happen to bad people. Every once in a while, you feel like the whole world is against you, and you are alone in the fight. You’re never alone. No matter how much you push people away, how many bridges you burn, and how many ties you cut, there will always be someone there to catch you. It hurts now, but it can’t hurt forever. Don’t worry, even broken bones heal over time, and you can only see a rainbow after a storm. Here is my personal storm, and my rainbow. I’m displaying it here as a symbol of hope and love for everyone to see and to draw upon for strength in their time of need.
A few years ago I was in a very bad place. My self-esteem was beaten to a pulp, and there was nothing I could do to help myself. I had recently picked up art, seeking solace, but it brought forth quite the opposite. As stubborn as I am,
Story About a Writer's HeartShe was born a writerStory About a Writer's Heart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From the moment she could pick up a pen she began to write
When she was a little girl she wrote
About the daisies in the field
And the birds in the sky
When she was a teenager she wrote
About discovering love
And discovering freedom
When she became an adult she wrote
About making her way in the world
And making choices
When two became one she wrote
About finding her soul
And finding her soul mate
When they began their family she wrote
About memories that would last forever
And the pains of watching them grow
When their children began their own families she set down her pen
And handed it to them
When she picked up a new pen she wrote
About her love
And her life
When it was time for her to die she set down her pen
But she never stopped writing.
Artist ExploitationArtist Exploitation - The New Game Plan:Artist Exploitation2 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
My dearest readers,
I have recently learned of a rather disturbing business plan being utilised by business people of an unscrupulous variety.
In essence their plan is simple: They gather art from many applicants and then they publish it as a magazine and sell it COMMERCIALLY!
Now then, why is this a problem? They tend to claim you get the benefits of advertisement and artists will be invited to read their works etc.
Well here's how the scam unfolds:
1. They get the artwork you created and an implied permission of use from you due to the voluntary submission
2. There is no formal written contract, so they can do as they please and you have no legal right to claim redress as you voluntarily submitted your work in.
3. Their potential benefits are a total sham and in essence they are asking you to work for free. Want a dissection? I'll explain:
- The item getting advertised is NOT your work. Your work is a part of the item. What is gettin
then i changed.Home used to be a place.then i changed.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It used to mean quiet mornings with loud sibling voices, sunlight streaming through the dust speckled windows to paint the room with summer. I remember being seven and waking up to my parent's laughter, stumbling into the kitchen of oak to watch them leaning into one another over the coffee table. The tile on the floor was cold, but I remember thinking that the house was warm.
Home was a place of safety during the storms, where rain could batter but could never get in. It was the cream colored carpet and the fire blazing during the winter months. It was where I chased the small lop-eared puppy up the stairs and where exhaustion trailed after me on the way down every morning. It was comforting and familiar. It was where the smells were always sweet no matter whether it was half-baked cookies or lemon wood cleaner. It was mine.
Then things changed. I changed.
The walls dissolved and the people dispersed. Home became a word I didn't have a definition for. I