covert ops chap 2covert ops chap 25 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Myka flitted about her room anxiously. When she'd returned from the warehouse a note lie on her pillow: 'See you in town.' Myka read the note one last time before tucking it between the pages of a book, along with the other from HG. Part of her was upset that HG would risk coming to the bed and breakfast again. It would be too easy to catch even her here. And if they did, back to the bronze sector and Myka would never see her again. There was a part of her that was upset that Wells had been in her room and she had missed her. But the emotion that was spilling over was a charged excitement with a hint of nerves. She checked her hair and straightened her shirt for the last time.
She came humming into the living room. "I'm going into town for a little while, did you guys need anything?"
Claudia jumped up from the table. "Ooh, yeah. Can you pick up some stuff from the hardware store?"
"Cool. Here's a list."
Myka took the paper and looked it over before folding it up. "Pete? You nee
things i wish the thirteen year old knewi. this one's about your issues with yourself.things i wish the thirteen year old knew1 year ago in Letters More Like This
you're really not as bad as you think you are. at everything. you're good at drawing. you're not that fat, the baby fat goes away after a while. you're not that pathetic. you're pretty smart and hell, you're god damn cute when you're not pulling stupid horrifying faces.
if i could go back now and talk some sense into that insecure bundle of mess that you were, i would do that in a heart beat. except that would be hypocritical and i don't want you to realise that despite all of the childish antics and the confidence, the now-you is just as insecure as you are at the age of thirteen.
okay maybe not quite that insecure. but still pretty insecure. i'm working on it, i swear.
ii. general advice because you will thank me later.
don't get involved with that girl. you know who i'm talking about, and so does anyone who knows you even slightly. she's not evil, but she's definitely toxic to you. you will spend years crying becaus
From Your 'Secret' AdmirerHeaven,From Your 'Secret' Admirer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this is not a love letter
I will swear to God,
with a halo on my head
and a hole in my heart.
But the fact is I revere you
more than I have any right to.
After all, we are nothing except
who have awkward conversations.
So why is it that every time the line
falls silent I panic, worrying that your shadow
will make my efforts nothing but a distant memory,
when every word you speak strongly marks my mind?
Simple: I fear having something to lose
and losing the nothing I have. You are
treasure to me, and this note becomes my confession.
Sincerely- I typed this, but I'm sure you'll recognize the handwriting.
Ghostly I see him in my swirl of dreams every night. A little boy, no more than 6 years old, visits me in my restless sleep. His name is David. He told me to call him Davy. His hair is white, his eyes are a deep shade of blue. I find him charming, but I'm sure others would find him terrifying.Ghostly2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
See, Davy died in 1954. His Great Aunt Salla killed him with the kitchen knife in her hand as she was preparing his lunch for school that day. She was sick of Davy crying and whining while she was cutting an apple. I'll leave the rest of the story to your imagination.
How do I know this, you ask? Well, Davy told me the story the night we met. I remember it just like it was yesterday. One cool October evening, the 31st, I believe, he made himself known in my lightless bedroom. He was hovering over my bed, his pajamas hanged off his slender body, making it seem like he hadn't had a good
Looking With Your HandsEveryone’s been there. As a child, your mom would take you to Wal-Mart, Target, or, if you lived near rich people as a kid, Toys-R-Us. Anywhere with toys. And being a child, you wanted to pick them up, play with them, put them in the buggy in hopes that your mom would buy them. Heck, at that age, you didn’t get the concept of money or buying things with money. You just wanted to play with it. And you wanted Mom to let you take it out of the store. If she said no, some of the braver ones among you would sneak it in the buggy anyway. Maybe mom didn’t notice. Maybe she did and bought it anyway.Looking With Your Hands2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But typically, what would happen? Your mom would catch your greedy hands and say what?
“No! You can look, but you don’t look with your hands!”
That phrase has always held a special kind of irony for me.
I can’t remember specifically when it started. Used to be just a feeling. I would pick up something and just have a feeling that it belonged to someone. Or
Lavender SuicidesLavender Town Syndrome over rated? True. Lavendar Town Syndrome is fake?Lavender Suicides5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
It started about... what, 2 months ago? Yeah, 2 months ago, about halfway through October. I was on Youtube, searching for random videos of who knows what when one of the people I subscribed uploaded a video. They were uploading a video that had scary video game music every day of the month until Halloween, and so far they had been uploading some pretty good and very unnerving music I had never heard before. So I was shocked to see they had uploaded Pokemon music.
I clicked on it anyways. It was the old, first version of the Lavender Town theme song. When I listened to the theme I remembered hearing it before, when I had played through the game. It honestly didn't sound scary at all to me, I actually even liked hearing it. But then I looked at the comments on the video.
Some users were talking about how Japanese kids had committed suicide on themselves after listening to this song. Interested,
7 Usernames to stop makingUser names with more than one extra "X":7 Usernames to stop making5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Okay, these names were unique when they were first spawned from some Goth kid's head, but X's don't make your user name look cool any more. It makes you look like some emo/goth wannabe who is just looking for attention.
User names with random numbers on the end:
When you type in a desired user name but it's already taken, the computer makes names as suggestions, like instead of JohnSmith, you're J.smith, SmithJohn, Johsmi, JohnSmith233... etc. The list can go on. Just because you want your "desired" user name, doesn't mean you need to memorize pi.
User names that are just misspelled words:
Misspelling used to be cool, now it's not. Nobody cares if you type "da" instead of "the" or use extra letters. If the best thing you can come up with for your user name is a word, the
how to become a writerhave parents that separatehow to become a writer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you’re in high school;
a father filled with unused anger
and a mother too busy to care.
pretend it doesn’t hurt.
let your friends treat you
everything is your fault.
listen to their problems with a fake smile
all the while crying out because
everything hurts and no one can see.
press a knife to your skin,
but be too cowardly to
draw your own blood.
fall in love with people
who could never notice you,
just. not. good.
chew on the multicolored
strands of your hair.
(you can’t stop running
from who you really are.)
carry around a notebook
and scrawl eve
The FigurineMove my armsThe Figurine3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Change my face
Define my charms
Garnish me in lace
Let this expression
Fade from a smile
Fall into fake depression
Embrace imagined denial
To your liking
For this figurine
Has a heart yet unseen
I may dance
In a body of clay
A manipulated trance
For which I have no say
But behind this flush
Under this face,
The clay you caress and crush
I have my heart, hidden with no trace
Individuality.Individuality.Individuality.2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
These days most people are other people.
Only a few templates are distributed amongst the billions.
Maybe it’s because they see themselves as less than equals.
So they base and paste their thoughts from someone else’s opinions.
Their unfulfilled lives a mimicry.
Obtaining incompatible abilities.
Altering their figures physically.
Their passions are quotations.
Their theories are past equations.
They become victims of affiliations.
Remoulding their models into the shape of their role models.
Worshipping the words of Drake, Einstein, Rhianna and Aristotle.
Pursuing the idolised physique of a manufactured Coca Cola bottle.
They squeeze themselves into already overcrowded groups.
But you can only have so many cards in one particular suit.
To every leader there will always be surplus of recruits.
This process progresses day by day.
To the point where he and she have become they
“Mummy, when I grow up I want to be just like them”
Is what they all will s
Let's pretend I can write okayLet's pretend I can write okay4 years ago in Romance More Like This
Anxious digits were making uneasy taps on the desk of his studio. In his mind, the clock could have gone by hours when, really, it had only been ten minutes. His uneasy stomach did flips as beads of sweat raced down his face. Glasses swiftly removed, those tapping digits moved to violently rub the violet eyes of the nervous man. An arbitrary hand makes its way through messy hair. The glasses resume their place and flickering eyes are caught by the very thing that started the conundrum. That put him in such a flurry.
A shaky breath taken, his slim hand moved to the computer mouse.
In a single click, the picture is set to print.
Your PathA little bit sad,Your Path2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Not tired of being mad,
Far from happily insane,
Too depressed to feel the pain.
No body cares if you are good,
Nor does it matter if you lose your childhood,
Pleasure is all they need,
Even if your heart if filled with greed.
"Just keep going" they say,
They don't mind even if its not your way,
Walk an unknown path even if you have to crawl,
What ever happens; they say don't fall.
Live a life which you don't want,
The world will race you to the finishing point,
But your dreams are long lost,
And all you did is listen to them at your own cost.
But our lives only end up in our hands,
We shall only play our own bands,
Just trust it in yourself,
Forget every other trickster elf,
Take it just as far as you can,
Be proud, on your own legs you ran.
Belief.Belief.Belief.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I’d rather believe in something,
Rather than to believe in nothing.
Because to believe in nothing implies there is no purpose.
It implies that there is nothing below or above the earth’s surface.
It suggests that there is no advanced assistance and that our existence
Can be revoked in an instant, despite our apparent spiritual commitments.
It would mean that mankind will not be punished for all their wrong doings.
And that living a good honest life will not grant you a shoe in
To something that is not indefinitely there
And that it was us who made this world unfair.
But if you believe there is something greater in place
And that this something does not have a form, figure or face.
From this something we gain a feeling that cannot be described
And although countless cynics have allied, defied and tried.
They have dedicated their entire lives to proving there is no evidence.
Because disproving that something is the only thing of any relevance.
What if confirming its p
Piano RecitalDozens of pairs of eyes gaze upon me,Piano Recital2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Filled with anticipation,
And watching expectantly.
I pretend not to be fazed by their lingering stares
As I place the music upon the grand piano.
My heart is racing,
The notes on the staff suddenly become blurred,
I can't seem to locate middle C,
And the bench is positioned all wrong.
I'm not used to this piano.
My shaking hands find their way to the correct position,
My eyes glance upward to the music sheet,
And I begin to play.
It starts out unsure and hesitant,
But I gradually become lost in the song,
Like I always do.
Though my heart and cheeks burn
Each time I make a minor error,
I somehow survive the piano recital,
And I live to tell
Combat ZonesHe wakes up in Vietnam every night,Combat Zones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boot-clad feet trudging over mined ground,
trigger finger numb, back sore,
fatigue drenched from the monsoons,
and he prays to go home to her.
He finds himself next to her every morning,
dark bags under her eyes telling him
his twitching kept her awake again.
At breakfast she throws the dishes
and cries as the china shatters against the wall—
cries that she’s living in a combat zone
with a man who’s battling himself.
"Is there anything more destructive
than war?" she asks, and he looks at her
and says, “Love."
The Refusing HandThe Refusing HandThe Refusing Hand1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Remember what mouths you are feeding,
Because there are people who will stab you in the back
And then ask why are you bleeding?
The jigsaw boyThe girl sits on the dusty floor,The jigsaw boy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Surrounded by odds and ends.
Holding the jigsaw boy, trying to put him together again.
He fell from a very great height,
She sobs for him every night.
None of the pieces fit.
He looks up at her with empty eyes,
The colour of faded blue skies.
His skin is covered in scars and cracks,
Maps that lead her to nowhere
Round and round in circles, like a merry go round.
His soul is scattered around her like glass,
She cuts herself trying to pick the pieces up.
She tries to be distant, she tries to be kind
But in her heart she knows she broke this boy
That lies in pieces at her feet.
She crushed his heart in the palm of her hand
And now she doesn’t know what to do.
She knows that she doesn’t have much time,
Before he falls over this ledge.
He builds these walls between them,
That she will have to climb.
Life has lost its colour and time has lost its grace.
Where his heart was is now an empty space,
Pain consumes his soul.
The Deviant's DictionaryThe Deviant's Dictionary11 years ago in Humor More Like This
$- A title that commands respect, such as "Sir," "Duke," or "Bass Master." Also: ', @, ^, #, %, and +
Adoptee- A subspecies of deviant, which attach themselves to larger predators, much like remoras or temporary tattoos.
Anime- One of the most thriving, fastest-growing religions in the world today.
Avatar- The tiny, tiny window in the computer screen, though which a deviant may look at the outside world.
Community- A safe haven where like minds can gather, free from the prying and oppressive eyes of the outside world, to talk about how sexy Jack Sparrow is.
Constructive criticism- Any comment that does not involve the words "dood," "teh," "poop" or "gay." Any replies made to constructive criticism will contain all four.
Dark Art- Pictures of various pale women with too much eye makeup. May or may not be bleeding from somewhere.
Deviant- Once thought to exist only in myth, the wild deviant has recently been found thriving in variou
Bastard SestinaI find myself saying the same wordBastard Sestina4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
over and over and over again, bastard,
bastard, bastard, bastard. In a word,
I am that sort of person, a bastard.
I'm the quiet sort that whispers a word
that crawls just under skin, like a bastard.
I was raised without a father, I'm a bastard,
that's the definition of the word.
Really, there isn't any better word,
though no one will ever call me bastard,
thinking they'll "offend the poor bastard".
What crawls under my skin is not a word.
No, what crawls under my skin isn't a word
but images. "Images, the poor bastard!"
Sunset's gleaned in the eyes of this bastard,
harpooned each night like many a word
on the blunt and grimy point of a bastard
sword still sharper than each word.
See, the pretense isn't from the word
but from its background, so a word
that's seen a lifespan like bastard
knows that even good nights for a bastard
mean climbing in windows when the word
is given. "Coast is clear, you bastard."
Don't mistake me. Although I am a bastard
Sophisticated WriterI'm not exactly the type of writerSophisticated Writer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you see regularly at the local cafe,
or the kind of artist who centers
all of her work around the studio.
Sometimes, I'm just the girl
who sits at home with the TV on,
brainstorming ideas for future poems,
and blowing bubbles in my chocolate milk.
Yep, I'm sophisticated for sure.
Unclassified.Unclassified.Unclassified.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I am not British nor am I English,
I am a member of the planet earth.
My skin is black making it hard to distinguish
That I do not belong to any specific turf.
Although my passport may say otherwise
And there may be boxes I am forced to tick.
My Continental ties are instrumental in their eyes.
Just like you, I am vulnerable to stones and sticks.
My hair may be curly and my nose may be wide
But my extremities are bound to any communal cemetery.
If you would be willing to compare a picture of our insides.
You will see that our differences are purely elementary.
Yet you are conditioned to see me as incompatible
And this misplaced backhand is something I can understand.
Even though your judgments are far from factual.
Despite our fathers demands, I will still openly shake your hand.
I may wear trainers and you may wear shoes.
You might like rock music and I might prefer rap and reggae.
My team may win today and your team may lose.
But we both will eat, sleep and
ParalyzedParalyzed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The words phrased-
I become stone
The wounds made-
I abandon hope
I shatter inside-
None left behind
Your voice incites-
I nurtured the very core
Of your presence
Until I couldn't anymore
You left me in a cold silence
I had nothing to cling on to
While I tried over and over to mourn
But there was no trace of you
So my regrets were torn and then reborn
Your footprints mock / My voice locks
Infesting my thoughts / My heart floods
An infinite loop of forgiveness and betrayal
I couldn't pick up the pieces of our memories
The knife in my back could only tremble
While I felt tremors attack my body
I trusted you with everything
I gave you every ounce of my passion
Now all I have to show for it is nothing
I can't even comprehend these repercussions
The tears cascade-
I drown within
The scars parade-
The memory singed
My mind divides-
Reasons remain unju