the slave dragon - rough draftthe slave dragon - rough draft9 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
The Slave Dragon
Drakon flew towards his cave, the smell of fresh blood from his kill filling his nostrils. Drakon hummed in pleasure. He landed in his cave and placed his kill on the floor. He began to yawn and stretch. As he stretched he looked over himself, his bat-like wings half extended, at full length they would be 30ft long, his body 27ft from nose to tail, and from claw to shoulder he was 6 1/2ft tall. Of course, as a reptilian, the females were about 1 foot larger. Drakon watched as the green-blue scales on his back flashed in the sunlight. The scales on dragons could shine in almost any color combination of the various shades of blacks, browns, reds, blues, greens and yellows.
Drakons back and the tops of his wings were covered with green-blue scales and a pale green underside. Underneath the wings at the leading edge, it was an almost golden yellow and flowed to a pale green at the trailing edge.
He finished stretching and looked at his bloody cl
Theme 60: Dreams--EccoTheme 60: Dreams (Ecco)Theme 60: Dreams--Ecco5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Darkness covered the land while the stars glittered in the sky and the moon's luminescent light made the ocean waves shimmer and glimmer--it was as if nature itself was having its own beautiful light show during this blessed night. And like all night time comes, all young, middle and elderly get into their soft and comfortable beds to sleep on (unless you are a night creature, meaning you can stay up all night). Speaking of sleep time, inside a light blue beach house, a 6-year-old dolphin was happily lying down as his adoptive father tucked him in and made sure he was comfortable.
"There now you are all nice and comfy," Sonic smiled, "Well, have sweet dreams Ecco." "I can have sweet dreams?" Ecco asked confused. "Huh? Don't you know what a dream is?" Sonic asked as Ecco shook his head, "A dream is a magical place where anything you ever imagined, thought of or even wanted occurs. Like you can dream about...Clam chowder!" "All the clam chowder I can eat?" Ecco as
Between the WavesThe day's last sun ray's danced on the low swells of the North Atlantic.Between the Waves3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The steely gray waters were alive with hues of crimson, orange and gold.
Night was coming fast, but that didn't mean I couldn't dance in nature's spotlight for one last moment.
The frigid temperates of the water felt like soothing as they surged against my side.
I breached the surface to breath in the crisp air. My dorsal fin weaved between the currents like a rudder and I steered my own course.
A long day of chasing fish and feasting on the ocean's bounty was behind me. My hunger was satisfied and I had no thoughts except the ocean and how far I could go.
The ArtistThe Artist9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No longer she draws,
her pencils lay restless on an empty easel.
The crude colour'd water,
stagnant, dust covered,
enfolds a waterlogged paintbrush
in its murky, liquid grasp.
No longer she draws.
The canvas remains blank,
as bleak as her emotion.
Piles of discarded work,
lay despair-smeared, forgotten
and ruined by her frustration.
Dried paint clogs her inspiration,
a flow once wild, now gone.
Not even a trickle from those pursed lips.
No creative course,
just a tear drop,
from eyes which once transcribed her feelings,
that now gives away her heart.
Her hands once wrought artistic means
now lay in disuse- pale by her side.
The works near finished
lays upturned and ruined.
Meant to be a self-portrait,
is now self-despair
and scrawled across her smiling face,
spidery letters, carved from pain read;
"Happiness fades away."
The brutality of loveA person is molded and woven together in his mothers womb-The brutality of love6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Vibrant, creative, a creature set apart to roam the plains of earth
filled with potential to procreate,
to be fruitful, to be himself, the only one like him, a unique work of art.
Until they speak.
They speak death into his mind, alluring mediocrity
they build their structures to constrain him
they place fences to withhold him,
to deter him from living dangerously
with passion and meaning.
The world fears when an individual awakens
and steps up to the stage in boldness with fire in his heart.
They fear passion, for it challenges their cowardice,
like finding sharp pins in the comfortable couches they sink into.
Reality is scary.
Love is scary.
I mean real love...
Forget pretty flowers
and little red hearts
teddy bears and
cards with angels
Feel the bitter pain
as love creeps through
the blood that covers all,
all those deepest, darkest stains.
Tremble in reverent fear
as love takes up a cross
Mechanical DeathEven mechanical things can live.Mechanical Death3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It stirred, steel tendons and synthetic muscles twanging like sad music in the cold silent dark. In turn, the dark hissed back, a noiseless sound from the furthest depths of blackest space. The thing with the tendons of steel and the skinless hide glistening with oil twitched and spasmed and trembled, the mess of electric synapses it called a mind confused by the notion of life.
It felt. And what it felt confused it, for it had never felt before and it did not know what it was to feel. It felt cold and hot at the same time, two extremes of temperature that at a point became inseparable with each other. It felt and heard and saw a world that it did not understand. For it had never lived before now.
The mechanical pump at the center of its being fluttered uncertainly, a chaotic interruption of a carefully timed rhythm: Thump flutter thump click whiiiine. The hissing noiseless dark writhed in its corners of blackest black and waited.
What is this
A werewolf named pumpkinI ran through the forest nose to the wind wet and cold from the kiss of the wind. I leapt through the brush not a leaf stirring at my passage. Only the trees sentries of the forest witnessed my passage. My paws splashed through a creek and I finnally came to a hedge. I crouched in the moonlight and looked up to the sky. I sighed smiled upon sighting the twinkling stars above me. The night was peaceful the cool wind ruffling my white fur. I almost howled with joy but I was getting close to the farmstead, to the people. I rose to my feet and lashed the air with my tail. Turning around I gazed back into the forest through I was certain I was not being pursued. The wolf hunter had long since lost my trail, at least I hoped so. He hadn't caught up to my in weeks. I hoped I was in the clear. Enough thinking about him I shrugged and crouched tensing for a leap. I cleared the hedge and landed behind a large bale of hay. I ran once more through the tall fields of wheat. It was the time of the hA werewolf named pumpkin4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Reflections on a Rainy DayDon't ask me dumb questions, you cow. You know exactly why I'm here. I cannot imagine you being so ignorant that you would see through the blaring headlines in the newspapers, or the screaming reports on the morning, noon, and evening news.Reflections on a Rainy Day3 years ago in Drama More Like This
You know exactly why I'm here.
"John, what happened?"
What happened? What...happened? You're really asking me that?
Then again, you are a therapist...you are supposed to ask questions, I suppose. But still...
My life ended, that's what happened.
I can go through all the details, right from the start: the multiple heists, the trial, the strange little man who was released thanks to a bit of blackmail, the slow deterioration of everything I knew and clung on to, the smears, the rumours, the accusations...the way I watched the sanity, if it could be called that, slip away from my friend's eyes, the way that his name was poisoned, the way he was made out to be a...a...
...c'mon, John, spit it out...it'
sick lovei have this goodwill, this hope,sick love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this radiant crystal star piercing my chest from the center out, and
i need to break off pieces
hand them out like hard candy.
i need to help.
i am tired, yes. and
i hate myself, yes. and
i feel inadequate, yes. and
i can barely do anything, yes. and
my hair is too long and my laundry's undone and my bedroom's a mess, yes. and
i have this hope,
this yellow bean-bag of a heart
how can i not slit it and let the rice pour out onto the starving?
friendsI cryfriends8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sherlock - Lava"JOHN!"Sherlock - Lava3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The army doctor hit his head on the bottom of the sink. He swore, rocking out of his position. He'd been fetching a bottle of cleaner from beneath the bathroom sink when he'd heard the shout. After a moment to curse his flatmate's horrible timing, his mind began running through all the worst-case-scenarios and all of the ridiculous things Sherlock could be doing simultaneously.
"What?" he called, rubbing the back of his skull. "Sherlock?"
"JOHN I AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE!"
"What!" Watson yelled, peering out of the door and trying to pinpoint the location of the shout.
"FOR CHRISSAKES JUST COME HERE NOW!" The shout came from Sherlock's room.
John moved as fast as his throbbing head and spinning vision would allow, keeping a hand on the wall to balance himself.
"What is it?!" he called, fumbling for the doorknob. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. His fingers found the knob and he threw the door open, his eyes searching for whatever trouble the consulting detective
Capture of a DragonA large shadow passed overhead, making the darkness of the night darker for those animals that lived in the treetops.Capture of a Dragon7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
A soft thud was heard as something large landed skillfully in a small clearing dead center of the woods.
Bright blue scales glinted in the moonlight as a long neck stretched to the sky. A young Dragon a story tall stood in the center of the clearing, stretching its graceful limbs grown cramp from the long flight. As the scales flashed in the moonlight, it was soon apparent that the scales of venerable underbelly were gold as were the frills and the tip of a long tail that laid partially curled on the ground twitching from the impatience of youth.
Lowering its head it drew in a deep breath. The left eye was a bright old color and the right was a dark blue. It gazed the surrounding area as if to check for intruders. As if it were unsure of the safety of the woods that hadnt been penetrated by man since the time of the Ancients.
As if it now trusted the area it laid
sonnet 130truth is,sonnet 1303 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i could live without you.
i could live without your face, your hair
but lines i dragged out fingers would dry and crumble:
wires and rust-chunks;
words' depth absent.
i could sleep without you every night,
but what bare scraps of rest unfurl today would evaporate tomorrow;
Morpheus could go before you in dreams,
but every particolor swirl of breath
would lack the vividness of yours.
i could live without your thoughts, yes,
but my own would be the worse for it.
i could live without you,
but i wouldn't enjoy it much.
ode to an imaginary friendyou came like an old friend,ode to an imaginary friend3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
thought i'd forgotten you, whirlwind black-eyed lonely child
tears in your eyes music in your soul space between your
warm in mornings, soft in nights
a feather bed for your troubles
plaid sleeping bags for the nights you can't bring yourself to lie down on the couch in the stuffed-up air between my arms
long live glory, long live night,
long live popcorn and hot chocolate and blankets and radiators
and a spot in front of the fireplace when the pilot light goes out
white-twig fingers child,
breath in winters
breath in chairs
breath in hallways, under stairs
and you in the webs between the bones between the smallest rips in time
--and you came when i least expected
Dragonfly 1I'm just like everyone else, am I not? I look like them. I speak like them. I am of independent thought and opinion. I can do everything they can.Dragonfly 15 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
What sets me so far apart from them?
These thoughts were the only ones that bounced from corner to corner in my mind as I stared unseeingly at the painfully familiar but breathtakingly beautiful mountainous scenery in the distance. I was in a Sentry Tower, my gaze moving its slit focus onto the scrapes and scratches that marred the iron bars surrounding me. Often times my dirty hands had collided with those same bars, granting them the marks that stain them to this day. And each time I was dealt back damage thrice its initial severity; all because of the magic seal placed both above and beneath the cage.
An unfamiliar face before mine interrupted my musings for a minor moment, unusual brown eyes locking onto mine. He had hair spun of the richest brass which fell about his head in a messy yet untangled mass. A new recruit, I thi
FallenFallenFallen4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
I'm walking on a tightrope. Completely alone I stand suspended above the abyss. Sweat beads on my forehead and my palms are slick and clammy as I clench and unclench my fists. I stretch my arms out wide, taking a single shuddering breath and holding it deep in my chest. A tentative step forward, then a flash. Only a moment but it's there and I see it. A bloodstained hand grasping my ankle. Another and another until nothing but images of death and destruction surround me. Scoot, Matlock, Smith, Derriere, Nathan, Jones, O' Reilly, to name but a few. The images of the dismembered and disfigured corpses of my comrades, my friends, flash before my eyes.
Their deaths plague me, theirs and a thousand others. I want to shout and scream, but in this strange world of stagnant air and perpetual night I have no voice. And then I realise I'm falling. No gust of wind or sharp push has toppled me; but my mind has unbalanced and unhinged me. For a moment I hang almost frozen in the still air,
Dear You pg17The phone rang. Mom and I raced to it, but she beat me and picked it up first. "Hello?" she asked, sticking her tongue out at me. When whoever was on the other line said something, her eyes widened and she handed it to me with a smile.Dear You pg176 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Deidara?" the heavenly voice inquired. I replied with a, "Sasori! Yeah, it's me."
"Uh..." There was a strange crackling noise on the other end of the phone. Sasori hesitated for a moment and said, "C-Can you come over?"
"Sure. What's wrong?" Something told me he was crying. Maybe he wanted to see me in person, give me a huge hug, and tell me that he wanted to get back together. My stomach was filled with butterflies. After another moment of silence, he replied, "Just come over. As soon as you can. Granny's not home - I'll leave the door open for you. Just come straight to my room."
"Moving a bit fast, aren't you?"
There was a long beep indicating that he had hung up. I did the same and told Mom that I was going to see Sasori and I wasn't sure when I'd b
BlurHe was there once. In some ways, he had always been there. He was greater and weaker than inspiration, her lifeline and her killer. She used to believe in fairy tales, clung to them like a child desperate to be loved. And when he came, she clung to him, and then when she fell to her knees and did not feel him help her up, she wondered if she had passed through only mist when she had lunged for his arm, and she shunned the touch of every other fairy tale that came to her after that. This confused the fairy tales, of course, for they did not believe in reality. They did not understand that although he had been a dream, he had also been reality itself. He was something more than family, more than friend; he was a wish.Blur6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
He was there once. And in some ways, he was there still.
That was why she kept trying to blur the line. She was not quite sure what she meant by "the line"; she figured it meant the barrier between who he had been and who he had become, or who she thought or hoped he was an
urban oceanThe wet roads are my urban ocean.urban ocean2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Some men see God in the break of foam--
I see God in the freeway.
I see God in the spray off the backs of eighteen-wheelers hauling consumer garbage to southern Maine
as I walk along the side with my boots soaked from puddles.
The sea reflects the sky and Route 2 reflects the sky
and the waves go shush, shush, and the cars go shush, shush
and the clouds roll over,
the clouds roll over.
The wet roads are my urban ocean.
city people, people without namesHe wanted to remember it forever.city people, people without names3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He wanted to remember her softness and the way she held onto him when they kissed: gently, as though she was afraid he'd break, but firm enough that he felt her arms long after she'd let go. He wanted to remember the tendriled chill of the alley behind the Chinese restaurant and the streetlights shining off the rust-pocked paint of the dumpsters and the radiant warmth of her skin, the dry, gradient heat that seemed to come more from her core, magically, rather than from the processes of metabolism and homeostasis and all of those good long sciencey words that burst into and traipsed through his head (and sometimes out of his mouth) when he was too overwhelmed to think of anything else. He wanted to remember the distant pulse of club music, the sound of passing cars close by and emergency vehicles far, far away, climbing city streets to murder victims and burglaries and false alarms, the clipping of pigeons taking flight from rooftops above, the faint w
Required To Forgive All MenRequired To Forgive All Men3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
"Jason, have you read this case yet?"
My attention was taken off my work of filing papers within a case in my hands, and I looked up to see the receptionist, holding the familiar green of a criminal case over the wooden drawer that separated our desks, face lit with apparent horror of its contents. I sighed, knowing that it may have something I wouldn't want to read, but the receptionist's urging ignited my curious nature.
Putting aside my work, I took the green folder from her hands and began to peer through the contents. It was a newly acquired case, thin and lacking in the common mass of filing from both our hands and the court. Whomever the case was concerning had just retained our services as legal advice, and there within the green file was a letter written from the person to the attorney.
I read the letter, a privilege granted to all that work in the law field, for its contents was confidential and meant only for the eyes of legal workers. Reading cases as a file clerk helped me
I am the highwayin this lonely church we stand,I am the highway2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the last of us and the weak of us
and it's taken us so long to get here, see
here's Sarah from Oregon
and George from Toronto
and Francoise all the way from northern Germany
a million miles between us
and a hundred stories each
and George and Sarah and Francoise and Martin, too, and the rest of us
we have seen enough, been through enough,
to write six thousand books over
we have more moving pictures in our heads of cars rushing past and the insides of buses
than any other living group
and in this lonely church we stand,
the last of us
and the best of us
The One Who CountedA mouse, a ponytail,The One Who Counted3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scurrying along the edges of the spotlight,
Even when you don't know it,
And even when you do and wish you didn't.
She catches tears in soft hands,
Has doe eyes that will cry for you when you can't.
There's quiet music hidden in her labcoat lapels,
Cherries on her jumpers
And on her lips.
Her head is a tiny nothing that can hold the weight of the world,
Lotus-petal ears catching the drip of your rainfall words.
Pink tea and sugary coffee,
Quavers and petri dishes and blood.
Nice. Very nice.
She's the epitome of nice,
A big cavern echoing of niceness,
Slipping in under the other sounds.
You wouldn't pay a penny for a moment with her,
Until you realise -
The moments have counted.
Dear You pg3The next class was Social Studies, so all you really had to do was listen to the teacher rant and only write down the really important stuff. I followed Sasori to the very back row of desks. We sat side-by-side in the corner. I knew that where he sat was his usual seat, because I often looked back at him as he wrote. I stuffed my books under my desk and he left his on top and pulled a pencil out of his pocket and set it on top of the sketch diary.Dear You pg36 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
As soon as the teacher started talking, he asked, "What made you want to talk to me?"
I gulped. Did he seriously have to ask that? What the hell was I supposed to say? You're the most gorgeous person I've ever seen and I couldn't resist your charm? Sure, that would go down well.
"You looked lonely, is all." I shrugged as if it was that simple.
"Really? That's it?"
I nodded. He laughed a little - the cutest laugh I've ever heard - and it made me smile. Shoot, I would have held his hand right then and there if it wouldn't h