SpaceSpace6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The orbiter had touched down at Vandenberg, and Lewis and a dozen others had flown cargo the thirty minutes to San Francisco airport. They trudged in from the tarmac in loose formation out of habit, unprepared for the crowds in the terminal.
The debriefing team had talked about friction, that the religious right had taken offense to their involvement in the colony war.
There was an awkward moment when the soldiers met the seething mass of people, unsure if there would be familiar faces, confused by the angry looks and rumbled undercurrent of discontent.
Murderers, a lone voice lit the fuse, causing the crowd to erupt into a cacophonic barrage of unfettered hatred.
The soldiers had faced more threatening forces, but here, at home, unarmed and unprepared, they could do nothing but close ranks and retreat to safety.
Police raised riot shields as picketers raised placards, the two groups squaring off as the tired soldiers slipped away through the terminal.
Lewis took the shuttl
Mr SnideyMr Snidey slowly lowered himself into his worn old armchair, the seat indented to fit his shape, for so long had he occupied it. His knees creaked like ancient tree trunks as he descended. As he settled himself down, he spread his arms against the armrests luxuriously, much like a king would on a grand throne. Every movement he made appeared to occur in slow motion, his body no longer able to deal with life at what most people would describe as normal speed.Mr Snidey2 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
He slowly removed his brown slippers and lifted his legs to rest on the footstool before him. Getting up to turn on the television was an arduous task for Mr Snidey, and he tired easily. He exhaled deeply, and closed his eyes briefly, savouring the calming few moments when his aged muscles began to relax.
His face was deeply wrinkled; marking the many years he had inhabited this Earth. His skin was yellowed with age, much like the pages of a worn book, and was scattered haphazardly with liver spots. His pale eyes radiated kindness;
Dear deviantWRITERS...Dear deviantWRITERS, allow me to offer you some advice. While I realize that you may not want that advice at all, I will cheerfully ignore that, because I really think dA's literature community could use a bit of setting straight.Dear deviantWRITERS...5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The reason writers like you and me are on deviantART at all is because we want people to read our work. No one would argue with that. So the way you do things should help get people to read your writing, not flee screaming.
That being said, the preview image that dA gives each literature deviation is your best friend. It gives you about 110 characters of text to impress anyone who might be randomly browsing through lit deviations--to catch their eye and make them want to read more. So! Here's a few tips.
Before that, though: I am not saying that every reader on dA agrees with the suggestions I present here. These are things that I think are important, and that I recommend. This is conceited, maybe, but I believe that good readers would agree wit
Trickster's GambitThere are many of us in the forest. Grimmlings, we are, imp-wraiths of the woods. All the same, each to each, such that even where there is one, there is no I. And we slither unseen through the prickly brush, and you do not see us, for you do not even know we are there.Trickster's Gambit6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
We are tricksy, foolish mortal, and it is best that you do not cross us, for we serve the Erl-King, and he is a vengeful lord, though fair and pleasing to the mortal eye. And this he knows, ah, this he knows too well, for he likes to lure the maidens to the forest there, and they do not often return to their village homes. Some stay with us and join our court, but others do not, and it is they who the villagers find floating in the streams, strewn with wreaths of flowers, and it is they who wake up dead upon the barren drifts of snow beneath the ancient pines, enveloped in brightly colored swaths of their own red blood.
There is a Man-King who lives above the village in a castle upon a hill. He had a son o
Does Silver Have a Brother Ch1Does Silver Have a Brother Ch14 years ago in Sketches More Like This
***(I DID NOT draw that picture. It's simply a preview image I had to choose for my fanfic.)***
So rumor has it Giovanni has another kid. That would make two of us.
It came from his former secretary who couldn't help but put together a shredded document in Giovanni's trash can that he insisted on shredding himself. His secretary does -everything- for him including shred anything his asks but this suspicious document pulled out of a stack of paper, he really insisted on shredding himself. She couldn't help herself to find out what the document was that had Giovanni break a sweat. While the boss was out, she had the nerve to pick the lock into his office, recover the shreds of paper and take it home with her to put together.
It was a court order for child support.
Apparently, that kid is Red. That weirdo that secludes himself up in Mt. Silver doing God knows what. Oh right ~training~. Who trains up in a dangerous mountain for more than a year?! The most I could train at the Dragons Den i
Of Bookstores PassedOf Bookstores PassedOf Bookstores Passed5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
At four in the afternoon this last Tuesday, a bookstore closed in a town near me. It wasn't unexpected. Everyone knew about it from several weeks ago and even before then. It wasn't the nicest bookstore I'd ever seen. It wasn't the most homely. It wasn't particularly big. And sitting on the floor to glance through a book was taboo in this place.
At best, it reminded me of another bookstore which once existed very close to where I live. It was called Readmore Books. The logo in the front was a simple image of a child reading a book. It existed for as long as I could remember as a kid. It had the longest magazine rack I could imagine back then. It had everything. It was where I regularly bought issues of Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine. Opening them up, I would always dream of one day seeing one of my own stories in those magazines. The idea of a magazine like that inspired me to try and one story in a particular volume gave rise to my very first full-lengt
ProgressionYou were snowflakes on my tongue as I tastedProgression5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that freezing silver sky.
The wind coming in smelled of storm--
Later, you were that wind,
beating against the blinds as if glass were ice
and would shatter.
Giving up, you became the morning: Grey snow
beneath my boots.
20 Writing Prompts20 Writing Prompts20 Writing Prompts7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This shouldnt hurt. She said quietly, soulless eyes downcast.
An empty street, once filled with colour and life, was far more desolate than one that had always been barren.
My shadow crept across the wall as I waited; the clocks ticking dragging me through each long second with hope for the next.
Id read between the lines, but it didnt mean I liked what Id found.
He dropped his head, the fatigue of days finally seeping into his abused muscles; the last of his strength finally gone.
Look, hed said softly, pointing at the night sky and the only light that littered the velvet night; the stars. My eyes shot back to him quizzically, the unspoken question on my lips. He laughed as he always did, eyes creasing in his merriment. When youve finished counting all the stars in the sky, he said, voice dropping to a whisper, thats when Ill come home to you.
You could see h
Arman and the Flaming DragonIt was the fortieth year in the reign of King Delnadio. His royal graciousness saw fit to hold a most exquisite banquet in honor of this landmark occasion, inviting all in his kingdom be they commoner, noble, or other to attend.Arman and the Flaming Dragon7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Other, you ask? Thatd be my kind. You know, the ones that keep the noble life worth living. The ones behind the scenes. Or rather, behind your chair with a knife.
Anyway, there was the banquet. Everyone far and wide came to the great halls of the castle to partake in the merriment. The privileged few of the higher classes showed up in their carriages and whatnot, dressed as sharply as they dared, although most of the guests simply showed up on the grounds wearing a shirt they felt had the least amount of holes. But regardless of ones social status, all were herded into the main hall for the presentation of the Queen and the Kings daughter, as well as the initiation of the feast.
Now normally those twod simply show up at the Kings s
The Best DefenceHearing the whistle overhead, Max made a dive for the nearest crater. It was a pity, he thought, that the one he picked turned out to be filled with water. Then again, as the explosion lit up the battlefield, he was forced to admit there were worse things than wet feet.The Best Defence6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Gone for a swim, Max?
The face peering down at him was largely covered in blood, dirt and what had started out as camo paint, but the white smile was as brilliant as ever. Same old Toothpaste Tommy.
Taken a knock? Max called back up as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.
Tommy prodded his face in a few places then examined the wet fingertips.
Not mine, he concluded. Not unless I've started bleeding black.
He wiped his forehead on his sleeve, leaving a tar-like streak on the already filthy trenchcoat. You need a hand?
Burying his fingers in the oily mud, Max began his ascent out of the crater, boots squelching on every step. A hand might be good.
PropagandaPropagandaPropaganda6 years ago in Historical More Like This
I purchased a return ticket as you did over a year ago now and sat in a carriage, watching the streets pass by as we trundled on towards the Downs. The length of the journey surprised me. I always had this vision of you in my head, sitting on worn velvet cushions watching the world disappear, completely unaware of the crowds jostling nearby as you contemplated serenely the final time you would fly our banner. Yet, after a short journey I alighted onto an empty platform, unused to visitors during a weekday.
The walk from the station to the racecourse, with only a postman for company, was pleasantly short and I soon found the staff entrance where Miss Ringham waited for me. A sweet girl, Emily; and ever so devoted to the cause though she is a working domestic. She showed me out towards the course, then hurried away to her task before she was missed, leaving me in the open stands.
The Gathering Storm Ch 1 Chapter 1: InsomniaThe Gathering Storm Ch 16 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Skyline (skī'līn'): n. 1. the apparent horizon. 2. an outline (as of buildings or a mountain range) against the background of the sky. 3. the juncture of earth and sky; that is, the line at which the earth and sky meet.
It was raining. The roof always leaked when it rained.
Ears still ringing with the monotonous plink-plunk of pattering raindrops, Leaca Quickclaw lay back upon her pillow, a dictionary clasped tightly to her chest. Inadvertently, she found her eyes drawn to a speck of rainwater above herone little drop jumping down to land in a chipped kitchen pot beside her bed. Her routine should have worked by now, so why was she still tossing and fidgeting at such a violent rate? Why did her head still feel like it was lost in some cloudy bank of fog?
Rebellious FireCoals as white as snowRebellious Fire2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Burn within my darkest veins
As I watch the world...
Burst into flames.
Haiku IThe sun cannot shineHaiku I2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
If I have drawn the blinds closed.
Such is life, broken.
The Faerie Queen The sun was setting marking the end of the day and painting the sky in bloody hues before everything was numbed by the dark blanket of night. The forest was a hive of quiet activity as the animals busied themselves with the process of going to sleep or waking up, waiting for the shadows to fall so that they could prowl around and prey on the unsuspecting fools who lingered amongst the trees after dark.The Faerie Queen7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
In the far distance, mountains were on fire, set aglow by the setting sun; their snow-capped tops reaching out to embrace the sky with open arms as though longing to merge the world into one as the day faded away, unable to be caught by the surest pair of hands.
Bella lay, staring unseeingly at the changing colours of the sky with her brown eyes. She could not move as her body was numb and she was barely aware of the fact that she was lying on the cold, stone paving of what was once a terrace of a beautiful house. All around her, the city burned and smouldered, the opulent bu
DandelionDandelionDandelion6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Everything was ready. Most importantly, all of us had prepared our parachutes to catch the wind. We had been that way for quite a while.
Now all was left was to wait for the wind itself, and that gust of air was certainly taking its time. There were a number of us who had become very frustrated at how long it was taking, but it was not as if the forces of nature ever had to listen to what we thought. Like its peers, the air currents came and went as it pleased.
Not that I particularly minded that. Some of my siblings were a little more impatient, but they were the optimistic lot who did not think that anything could ever go wrong. They were the ones who longed for adventure. For their whole lives, they had been waiting for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and now that they were so close to it, they could not wait.
I was rather proud of being in part of the sane crowd - that is, the majority of us who would gladly wait another lifetime for our adventur
Equine Random Life GeneratorSomesmera StablesEquine Random Life Generator5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Random Equine Life Generator
Random Numbers (0-9)
(0-2) Gets pregnant on first try
(3-5) Multiple covers before conception
(8-9) Doesn't get pregnant
(0-1) No complication
(2-3) Long labor- tiring for mare and foal, no other problem
(4-5) Breech- Foal turned on its own, no other complication
(6-7) Breech- (0-4) Complicated turning, foal fractures leg- (0-4) Survives (5-9) Dies
(5-9) Decide not to turn foal, mare bleeds and is exhausted for several days, foal is fine
(9) Mare dies
(0-1) Easy, Quick learner
(2-3) Cautious, but willing
(4-5) Cautious, fearful- Always has trouble with (0-1) Halter (2-3) Stable Blanket (4-5) Saddle (6-7) Bridle/bit (8-9) Hooves
(6-7) Dangerous first ride, injures either horse or rider
(8-9) Training long but very successful
(4-6) Accident Prone (0-4) Minor (5-9) Major
(7-9) Performance Injuries
BREEDING CAPABILITY (Female)
Purpose DrivenI didnt explode when I struck. My time would come later.Purpose Driven7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was 1958. Hundreds of thousands of us fell upon the island of Quemoy. The reasons didnt matter to me. All that mattered was the long, cold barrel, the instant of ignition, the ponderous arc across the Taiwan Strait, and the fall. From a Soviet factory to now, my destiny was to kill.
I didnt explode when I struck. My time would come later.
I waited. Rain and wind piled mud over me. Cold, heat, night, day passed again and again. Then, the claw of a steam shovel, and I saw the sun again.
There was a flatbed truck, and crates, and thousands of my brothers stacked on top of one another. We clattered as the truck bounced along the muddy roads of Kinmen. Our war was over. My time would come later.
There was a bespectacled man, gentle, with a hammer and a practiced arm. I melted in his forge. I folded under his hammer, under his patience. I became thin, hard, and gained an edge that would split
HopeEvery sound set her on edge. The scuff of her boots along the stone floor, the clinking of the metal buckles on her pack, even the soft breathing of her lover who was likewise packing his things. The only thing that offset the sound was the pain in her back. Even still, the whips lines stung. Several cycles had passed since shed been at the mercy of her Lady Seromser. But the magic of the whip, and the lesson it meant, was still etched in her skin. Even though her lover, Athar, had spread salve in the wounds, they remained opened. Exposed. Thankfully, they did not bleed. This left the female shadelv in a low back gown. Better the cool air on the wounds than the fire any fabric represented.Hope6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
She noticed a fine tremble as her delicate hands folded a cloak. Her jaw tensed with annoyance, trying to control herself. Nervousness was not something she needed to deal with now. They had a small window of opportunity, a small chance to get away. Her dear friend Lyeos had helped set it
Midwestern Baptismal Fonts...Midwestern Baptismal Fonts are Called ThunderheadsMidwestern Baptismal Fonts...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stormll break tonight, and even our kids
rolled their hunger-sunken eyes at her,
but I didnt care enough to cuff them
for that insolence, because the storm
had been gathering for days above the cornfields
like a conscript army, and wed smelled
its gunpowder ozone all afternoon.
The scarecrows shivered in the fading light
and I surprised myself by pitying them;
when the time came, I at least could hide inside.
The wind picked up, spawning tiny whorls:
the short-lived dust devils danced in mockery,
embodying the drought of summer,
reveling in the heartbreak of too-late rain.
The advance companies of the storm,
blackened tufts of scouting cloud-stuff,
rallied overhead while the main column
swallowed all the western sky.
From the hazy blurring at ground level,
I knew it had begun to pillage Kansas City
and it would not be long, now, for us.
Come inside, John, but I ignored her
relying on som
And the Heavens Rained Down"What does the sky look like today?"And the Heavens Rained Down6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"It's... gray. And flat. Boring really, Grandpa."
Poor Annie. She sounded so awkward searching for the words. Somewhere in all those years, we had forgotten to teach her the poetry of the sky. Even through eyes that had long since darkened, I could see the clouds, clear and majestic, reaching to the heavens.
They were white. The purest white I had ever seen. Matched by the purest laugh I had ever heard, now echoed to me from the bottom of the well of time, the voice of Annie's grandmother. She beamed, holding her straw hat against the wind and urging me to go faster. At the top of the hill, we stood together and gazed upward, eternity stretching out before us and all things possible in our youth. Such white clouds, fluffy and free, skating in an ocean of blue and haloed by a hidden sun. I hoped that moment would never end and year
Beyond Absolution: ProloguePrologue: Sweet Raptured LightBeyond Absolution: Prologue6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I broke the surface of consciousness like a drowning man. Gasping thin breaths, I strained for air against the angry band of pain that crushed my throat to the width of a narrow reed. My fingers felt as thick as sausages as I dug them into the rope. A weak, phlegmy cough rasped air painfully past my throat, dragging me back towards unconsciousness as the pain threatened to spill over.
Im dying, screamed the wild part of my brain. Im dying Im dying Im dying Im dying!
Darkness blurred the corners of my eyes; coughs wracked my body, doubled me over on the floorboards. My pale, snatched breaths werent enough to save me; they just prolonged the inevitable, kept me conscious as I scrabbled about my neck, tugging desperately at the rope that cut into me like fire. A heavy knot was tied at the base of my skull. With my last reserves of
Why Writers Should Watch TVWhy Writers Should Watch TV6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Ive heard the argument that writers shouldnt watch TV and movies because that will inundate them with all the cliché plots and characters out there and somehow brainwash them into not being able to create an original story.
Me: *blank stare*
First of all, there is absolutely nothing new under the sun. Therefore, it is impossible to create something totally unique and original no matter how many bad movies you see. Furthermore, the more story lines that enter your brain, the more you realize just how unique or not your own story is.
Most importantly, an original story is not a new story. It is simply taking a common idea and combining it with other common ideas to create a new and fresh sequence of otherwise common ideas.
Think of stories like cookies. All the different types of cookies represent different types of genres and plots. Ingredients like chocolate chips and nuts represent c
Voices... For and About KidsVoices in Writing For and About KidsVoices... For and About Kids7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Well, the title of this piece promises a guide to writing for and about kids. This is an all-encompassing phrase that, I hope, will grab anybody who wants to write for or about any characters between the ages of about nought and eighteen. So, is this the part where I reveal that this guide is actually more limited than that? No it is not! At least, I have done my very best to cater to all possible needs, with the following handy headings:
Issues and Obstacles
The Voice of the Child: Advice on Writing Dialogue
Childrens Literature and the Narrative Voice
Young Adult Fiction and the Teenage Voice
I admit it: this guide is not going to be short, and while it is not going to be excessively long either, it will try to answer every question I have been able to anticipate.
Issues and Obstacles
Picture this. You have s