The First Night - RyvardaThe First NightThe First Night - Ryvarda7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
A Story of Meadowsweet and Dandelion
The herd of hyksis sprawled across the sundappled clearing as the swollen sun blazed its final glory across the sky to the west. Led by a single, powerfully built buck, the dals slowly began settling in for the night. Gathered in small groups, some tore hungry mouthfuls of the rich summer grasses while others dipped graceful deer-like heads to taste the crystal waters of a rushing stream. Long, rabbity ears were constantly in motion, ever-alert for signs of danger. The broad-shouldered buck restlessly patrolled the perimeter of the makeshift camp, his impressive antlers lifted proudly, daring any to challenge his authority. At the edge of the clearing, where the forest began to creep in, a single silvery dal struck out with sharp hoofclaws, earning herself an incautious ground mouse for dinner. A few knobby-kneed kyfaws bleated playfully, foreheads butting against their mothers' bellies as they nursed, tails flickering in the fading
Iberis: The EndLoosestrife prowled along the river, nose to the ground. The herd had already settled into their new location, and it was about time he roamed this area to search for any herds that might be about. Perhaps he could make off with a dal or two. Juniper would be watching over his dals, making sure that none of them ran off.Iberis: The End7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
So far, there had been no scents that were particularly interesting. He had scented some Hyksi further up, closer to the forest, but the scent was several days old and hadn't seemed to lead anywhere. All the same, it might mean that there was a herd about. He'd just have to keep looking, though it was obvious from the way they had managed to mask their trail that they were a cunning bunch. He would see where following the flow of the river would lead him.
The woods were getting thicker, and the beds of reeds thickened and grew more green. Loosestrife hissed through his teeth as the sodden ground tugged at his feet but he kept moving, panting slightly as a sudden wave o
FishFishFish4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Oh, my lovely fish
It gives me great joy to see you swimming
When I go on holidays I miss you and hope you are well
At night it gives me happiness to feed you and watch you
Every day you swim with your friend Silvie
Sometimes at night I like to listen to the sound of your pump
No other fish of mine has lived so long so that must be a sign that you love me
Even if you die tomorrow I will always remember you
Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
"Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries!
It is generally accepted among historical scholars that the cult of Demeter and Persephone, or Kore, existed in Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean islands long before the traditional Olympian gods became entrenched. Her origins are Cretan . Like Aphrodite, the mother and daughter goddess represent a matriarchal form of fertility worship in the forms of crops and nature, and through this the cycle of birth, growth and death. This myth, however, has taken hold of imaginations from its evolutions into the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece, to the paintings of Victorian Europe, to today, each with their own distinctive takes and emphases on the story. Perhaps it is the fact that we know so little about the original tale of Persephone the daughter of Demeter, goddess of fertility, snatched
16. Love16. Love5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"...let's grow old together," he said, nuzzling her neck. She laughed and curled her orange-tipped fingers into his palm. "Only if we still have ice cream."
Mama?Mama?Mama?5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was going to be a bad winter. Marquis could feel it in his hands, theyd never quite recovered, and tell by the way the blood was struggling to pump through them as the days got darker and shorter. He wasnt old by a long-shot Thirty next year, still good! but he completely sympathised when the old stable hands began their groaning. Powder white snow turned grey as he sludged through it, soot from his boots leaving a trail behind him as he fought his way to the main hall. All around him horses were being saddled and loaded up and men in uniform milled restlessly, blowing into gloved hands to warm them up, and Marquis refused to look at any of them. They were all in on it. If they werent someone would have mentioned it to him already and hed just known something was up when guards had been avoiding him for the last week. His pack, only half completed, was being dragged behind him a
Gingerbread HouseThey were sitting silently on the counter, awaiting duty; 3/4 teaspoon of baking soda, 3 1/4 cups of flour, and 2 teaspoons of ground ginger.Gingerbread House6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
She mixed them delicately, grinning to herself. The kitchen was her kingdom; where she resided and did whatever the hell she wanted. And, most of the time, she just wanted to cook. Her flour powdered hands rubbed quickly over her stark white apron as she hummed a nice little tune. Winter sunlight streamed in from the small window above the sink, but she could barely remember that it was February. The rip-off calendar next to the spice cabinet was five years old.
Her smile curled higher as she whipped with the manual mixer. She never used the electric one. It just took out all of the fun of doing it yourself! Her paint-neglected lips parted in a happy sigh as her left hand secured the bowl; she lifted it up and spun in place. It was like a private little slow dance at her senior prom! Oh, how ni-
"Moooommy," echoed a long, drawn-out whine of a sic
EvieEvieEvie6 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Around you the log cabin is cosy. Its one of those picturesque little places in the mountains and, as always happens here in winter, its snowing hard. Youre sitting in front of a roaring fireplace with your back against the sofa (Though isnt it an odd through; a fireplace in a log cabin?). The rug beneath you is thick and your bare toes could grip at it were you inclined to try. A mug sits beside you on the floor, still steaming from the pot. The light is dim, your mates have crashed for the night and get real anal if you leave the lights on while theyre sleeping. Damned if you know why, the fussy bastards. At any rate, youre not tired. Youve brought a book and some writing to do in moments like this, and with little company other then the crackling hearth, now seems the opportune moment to get down some thoughts from earlier.
As your pen hits the paper, t
Mind VomitI pixelate IcarusMind Vomit6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to forfeit my counterproductivity.
Who needs rose tinted glasses
when you have
glazed eyes enamelled sighs
and sugarcoated insomnia.
I long for movie tomorrows
instead of these
xylophonic beclazone dreams.
I want to saturate the grey matter
without a hint of remorse.
I want to play the undersleeper,
pinning back my eyelids with
the idiolect of those I'd like to know better.
Do you want to hear my mind vomit or should I
just turn the page and start again...?
AnniversaryAnniversaryAnniversary4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Their meetings were always hurried, full of touches that were just a little too hard and kisses that involved too much tooth. Neither complained, there was no time for them to argue now. No time for prolonged, wordless struggles as to who was on top, no time to tease. It just happened.
It was only in the afterglow, the bittersweet sweat and laboured breaths, that they talked. Quiet murmurs accompanied by lips on skin, a squeeze of the hand on a hip.
"I haven't got long." Jaye would say, his once perfectly straightened and styled blond hair now a mess, stuck to the pillow with sweat.
His partner knew, and would only nod, close his one working eye, and press his lips somewhere else on Jaye's chest. "Did you get it on disc?"
The blond always did he knew how it worked and sat up to pull it from his jacket. He could feel the other man tightening the arm around his waist, as if re
SolsticeSolsticeSolstice4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Medici castle was on a scale that was rarely built on these days. Three hours ride out of Argonia at a gallop, it sat atop a cliff set just in from the sea, proudly overlooking the de'Medici's traditional holdings to Argonia's west. The land had been in the family for generations, and their line could be traced back even further than that. They were a force in politics, a well-worn family name that would come to Argonia's aid when asked and their constant grip on land so close to the city proved that.
However, it hardly made the place more welcoming in the winter. While heavy tapestries were hung up over the windows and fires were stoked at all hours of the day, there was a distinct chill to the air that crept through the walls itself. Torches lined the corridors, their shadows spooking the servant's children as their shirked their duties. The entire affair, outside of the noble's wing, felt much like a
Hot Hotter Hot Hottest IntroMy balls were sticking to my inner thigh like a baby seal clinging to an Antarctic shore. Unfortunately, the camera was pointed right at me, so I couldn't do the leg-shake maneuver to get them loose. I saw the set of Hello, Good Morning! with Buster through two pea-sized holes drilled into my velvet helmet. Crayola had puked on the walls, the floor, the blocks, the rug, and even Buster. That was me, the rainbow-colored dog that came up on TV from dawn til noon. Outside of Busters Play Pen was the black, soulless collection of cameras and producers and directors sitting in fold-up chairs who occasionally yelled me through a microphone like I wasnt right in front of them. The sweat permeated in the depths of my fur suit because the air was recycled every time I exhaled. I re-realized how much I hated doing kid shows. Being on a childrens program was just like being in a porno; as soon you were recorded, no one could take your acting seriousHot Hotter Hot Hottest Intro4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Midnight SnacksI hope that my leaving is just a minor hurtMidnight Snacks5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yet knowing that worse leads to worse
And how fretting multiplies, but starts inert
I will remind you of what we have with verse
Our love is like an ice box that sits bold
In the corner of a kitchen, dormant and hushed
A warm lifeline feeding and keeping the insides cold
Even as it works at its own pace, never rushed
The best goodbye would be in the boxs back
Taken only when loneliness paints the dark skies
Then, it would be drawn from the very last rack
Like a pint of rocky road in Comfort Me size
So I say, with love entwined in lines and feet
Despite the curving paths that fate has drawn
Despite the yards and miles, we are complete.
Remember me whenever the little bulb turns on.
SelfishSelfishSelfish5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It was a hurried, messy meeting. Over a month had passed and while neither of them particularly liked the risk involved, what was meant to be a quick report had rapidly turned into a fully blown make out session. Mattie, tall, dark and still clad in his three-day-worn military colours had made short work of shoving all of Marquis neatly stacked paperwork onto the floor, pressing the smaller man down onto the varnished wood instead. Marquis would have protested were he not so occupied by the tongue down his throat and Matties heavy hands tugging at his hair. Hed worked hard to catch up his kings deskwork while banned from military campaigns and now hed have to sort it all again but it was so hard to be angry when the other man acted like this, like hed honestly missed him and for just now wanted to focus on the here, now and not what kept them apart. Mattie wasnt the talking t
Four over Five - KiribanFour over FiveFour over Five - Kiriban5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Whoevers idea it was to host a bar in the beached hull of a long-forgotten mariner should be labelled a genius. The black sea sloshed sleepily outside, blanketed by a sky loose-knit enough for the stars to peek through. Im romanticising it all; grungy high-rises pushed the beach back day by day, sand was doped up on forgotten syringes and Heaven lay like some beached whale against the moon.
Heaven. Stupid name for a bar, really. Id lost track of how many drunkards had shambled in hollering for entertainment, having mistaken the buzzing neon sign outside to be advertising a brothel. I felt the name a last resort, so out of place. The décor protested it. Countless shelves and crannies inside the bull boasted a maritime theme that was difficult to ignore. A brass teapot sat proudly in the porthole beside me, one of four Id counted through my visits, and bearded maps peeled free of th
Re: sound of raintiptap on tin roofsRe: sound of rain5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
as the world cries a message
that we fail to hear
To be a Guitar+istLike from afar, the guitar mumblesTo be a Guitar+ist5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The buzzing crowd then heaves and fumbles
The leering ceiling shudders--
My sight blurs with sweat as I make the strings purr
Love is such a lazy note
Nevermind if alluring fingers always find--
They strut and dumbly dote along
The wanton path paved down my spine
The melody's beat swirls 'round my fingertips
The mellow bass suddenly invades my veins and I'm speechless
Metal cords smile into my skin-- make my back stiff
She smiles and sways while she's falling off her feet
Love goads me to play
Crackling lightning inside of me is all I can take--
The old hollow in me is missing today
My filtered voice wails my tale
The show is over and my feet guide one another offstage
My head twirls and my eyes are stained green
The light shines and snickers--
And then I'm just a fading breath on the microphone
My legacy may die in the air
SleepSleepSleep6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Oh gods above, what had he done? The memories were fuzzy and vague, although there was no reason for them to be. Hed walked for hours, he remembered that part, though it had felt as though he had hovered above his own tired, charred body. Charred? A fire, he guessed, that hed somehow been caught up in. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath his cheek as he lay there, mind and body numb with confusion and the clench of guilt. Guilt, he realised now, sat where hed always thought love would, just below the ribs; a solid pressure pushing to meet his spine and go all the way through him. As depressing as it sounded, that was all he felt right now aside from the sand, and sand hardly felt solid. What was worse was that he couldnt for the life of him remember why.
Is he dead? Ryker felt something press against his ribs, a toe he guessed, but didnt move. He couldnt
When one DiesWhen a loved one diesWhen one Dies8 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Its a bullet to your heart
They die so quick
its like a shooting dart
You never forget them
They never forget you
even if they dont want to
-in loving memory of my cat Lizzy
Senryu 12: BruisesGrinning at the blueSenryu 12: Bruises5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I loose my ankles, wrists
Next time, not so tight?
Senryu 2: LollipopsA cherry yellowSenryu 2: Lollipops5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
That wets the palette-children
Shishosetsu IIShishosetsu IIShishosetsu II6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Yes, theres a number two. Believe it or not, I found more things about myself to talk about. I dont know whether its modesty or just honesty that drives me to say Im not a very interesting person but, given the chance to, I always see something to give an opinion on. I guess I should keep a blog or a diary. Well, perhaps a diary. Theres no point in a blog if people dont read it thats what its there for, right? and I learnt through several years of blogging that no-one was really interested in what I had to say. Fair enough, I probably wasnt saying anything very interesting anyway. Got up, went to school/university, ate some ravioli, came home, went online, wrote blog. End of post. End of life, really, I dont do much else on a regular basis, give or take the few other activities Ill substitute the internet with. Its not fasci
41. Nature's Fury41. Nature's Fury6 years ago in Horror More Like This
Petunias were his wifes favourite. She always said she liked the colour, and how they arranged themselves. But he couldnt find petunias at the flower sale, so hed gotten an iris. The little streaks would bring out the flowers of the tree it would sit near. Kind of, at any rate. He wasnt buying it to match. But that was alright. The sales lady had been really sweet about helping him. Found a decent soil too, one that replenished the nutrients in his current soil. It wasnt his fault it was being sucked dry by the greedy little plants. What was he supposed to do, uproot them? It wasnt that simple.
The check out line was by no means customer friendly either. The clerk knew him. The whole store knew him. And he heard the whispers. Isnt that Jonathan? I heard he killed his wife! Oh, shh! You dont really think ? Two-hundred and three dollars and sixty seven cents. When did dirt become expensive? His card
Emm AyeEmm Aye6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He could still hear her and even then, it made him feel like he was special. Her voice never boomed like the gruff, masculine voices he heard around the office. Neither did it purr or shriek or grate like some of the other women he'd heard. It just smoothly rolled from a valley of painted lips and a clever tongue. She would always talk to him, but she'd changed. He'd changed. He didn't listen to her anymore, but he still wanted to hear her.
Oh how comforting it would have been for that woman to be sitting right next to him, warming the cold space left by his empty apartment. But then again, he didn't want her there either. She would mock how he hunched over his keyboard, fingers deftly flying over the keys as cobalt eyes scanned the only piece of artificial light he had. He had closed all of his curtains and sealed all of his windows so that the moonlight wouldn't come in and make fun of him again with its annoying luminosity. The multitude of clicks and taps of the plastic keys