When You WokeIt's one of those days,When You Woke9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when it's that much colder,
and colour seems, two shades out.
It's one of those days,
when the destination's that much further,
and the road has that many more potholes.
It's one of those days,
when your feet feel that much heavier,
and your mind is like the winding streets,
of a city no one has heard of.
It's one of those days,
when your eyes can't leave the ground,
and your soul is weighed down,
by buckets, of stones.
and nothing but,
of those days..
Rammtein's Day On The BeachRammtein's Day On The Beach11 years ago in Humor More Like This
RAMMSTEIN'S DAY ON THE BEACH
written by Rougechick
We are in Berlin. The sun is shining, birds are singing, children around us are laughing and all the Goths are sitting in the shadows, cursing the sun for giving them a lovely tan. Yes, summer sure is wonderful time and in this story, Caron is dead, which makes the summer even better! Rammstein is in a HAPPY summer mood too because they have a break from the recording. And this, ladies and gentleman, is how our story begins.
It's a quiet day in Rammstein's apartment. Flake and Christoph are trying to build a grill outside, Paul is playing in the streets with his new scooter (Christoph bought it for him so he wouldn't disturb their grill building job), Oliver is colouring an adult colouring book in his own room (I wonder where I could get one…) and Till is…somewhere.
Richard has fallen asleep on the couch after trying to read Harry Potter in Finnish, and not understanding a word from it. He's snoring and looking all peaceful, happy that
I am FrodoI am Frodo11 years ago in Typographical More Like This
I am the keeper of the Ring
guardian of an ancient power
bearer of that which is both feared and wanted
wielder of the sword of blue
I am vulnerable yet strong
able to resist that which attempts
to take over my very soul
and destroy all that I hold dear
Inside I am a child of old
dreaming of adventures and far off places
exploring that which has never been found
lover of Middle Earth and the well-being of my people
I am Frodo
Sam -SLASH- Frodo? Frodo sat in a chair in the study of Bag End. His arm was resting uncomfortably on the writing table, and his chin sat in the palm of his hand. His free hand was in the middle of turning the quill of his pen in his fingers for what seemed like the millionth time that one afternoon. He sighed heavily as he shook his head in frustration. Trying to think of how to begin his own tale in the Red Book was far more difficult then he first realized it to be.Sam -SLASH- Frodo?5 years ago in Humor More Like This
Should he start from the very beginning where his friend Gandalf first came back to the Shire after a long absence? Or, he thought suddenly should it begin at Bilbo's party where his uncle first disappeared using The One Ring and how that very action began the long spiral down to their journey? Or, of course, he could always skip seventeen years ahead and start the tale where him and Sam actually started the journey, to the town of Bree and onward.
Frodo leaned back in his chair, a
A Study of RammsteinA Study of Rammstein10 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
About a month ago, my friend Nick Siple handed me his CD player (Which, by the way, looked Erely similar to mine) and told me to listen to something.
I pressed play, and suddenly a European Accent began laying out "We're all living in Amerika" through the small speakers, backed by a heavy guitar riff. Heavy metal, Excellent. At the time I didn't know it, but it was Rammstein - Amerika.
"Cool! I like it!" I said, which wa smet by his response of.
"Okay, I'll burn you a copy of Sahnsucht!" Which, is a really advanced word for Nick. I think i did happen to notice a small amount of stubble jutting from his chin, but thought nothing of it.
Fast forward a month, Here I sit in front of a computer, my head phones on listening to Rammstein's newest album, Reise, Reise. Commenting breifly on the upcoming release fo Reise, Reise Vol. 2, discussing the lyrics, scratching at my gotee, and such things that happen when you enjoy a band. Imagine my surprise when in the course of discussion of lyr
.Key to the soul..Key to the soul.9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sparkling drops of music fall down in the ocean of the soul, the clouds of the poets thoughts cry tones in my heart. I embrace them with deepest reverence, feeling their pulsating warmth whispering messages within me. I am alone in this dark room, but yet I am not alone. I am alone, with hundreds of musical heartbeats that keep me company.
My gaze wanders over the walls, and all I can hear is your voices. You bring me energy together with delight, a sigh sneak out between my lips and my soul notices the chain of thoughts that grow on the fields of the mind. Blooming thoughts, memories that were drowned in oblivion take a hold on the hem of the dress of breath, and a burning inspiration makes me pick up a pencil. The tip of the pencil kiss the sheet of paper infront of me with ardent passion, indescribable to someone who has never danced with the elegant figure of the written word. Invisible tears water the landscape of my cheeks, a smile brightens my life with its effervescent symphony
The Chinese ZodiacThe Chinese Zodiac10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Year of the Rat
1912, 1924, 1936, 1948, 1960, 1972, 1984, 1996:
People born in the Year of the Rat are known for their charm and attraction for the opposite gender. They work hard to achieve their goals, acquire things, and are likely to be perfectionists. Rats are usually considered aggressive, ambitious, suspicious, and power-hungry, honest, generous, quick to anger and prone to spend freely. People born under the sign of Rat are imaginative, charming, and generous to the one they love. However, they have a tendency to be hot-tempered and overly critical. Their ambitions are big, and they are usually very successful.
Year of the Cow (Ox)
1913, 1925, 1937, 1949, 1961, 1973, 1985, 1997
People born in the Year of the Cow are patient, speak little, and inspire confidence in others. They tend, however, to be far out, and unfair, and they anger easily. They have fierce tempers and although they speak little, when they do they are quite eloquent. Cows are mentally and physically alert. Gene
Miss Tansybaum's CarnivalBy all accounts, Miss Tansybaum's Circus of the Moderately Peculiar should not have continued to operate. They were a very small operation as circuses went, they had no rides and their menagerie consisted of a single geriatric lion and a handful of obscure species, such as the Sudanese Crooning Lizards, who were obscure for a reason. Sure, Brendan the Mono-juggler could keep a single ball in the air for hours, but you got tired of watching after the first few minutes.Miss Tansybaum's Carnival5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Lord Maggothaunch's Carnival of the Un-Ordinary should have crushed them out of existence in the first year--indeed, that was among the lord's stated goals--and its failure to do so was a source of intense frustration for him. Did he not have scantily clad women and a genuine, if sullen tiger? Did he not have a genuine freakshow, with real live freaks, including a pair of dubious Siamese twins and a two-headed calf in a jar?
Miss Tansybaum did not have a freakshow (at least not in the conventional sense, although the less
ApotheosisAnswers float, feathersApotheosis6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Not of angels, but finches
Settling with autumn.
Edens tree sheds leaves
Life forms, these than which nothing
Meeker can be thought.
Since When Were You a Junkie?With everything that's been going downSince When Were You a Junkie?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I haven't really taken out the time to look around
And see everything that I used to have, used to be
And talk to whoever was once important to me.
Now I'm seeing you on the corner of the street
And you're snorting crack, shooting meth and ecstasy
Whatever happened to you?
You know, you're only sixteen
And yet the whole world is falling apart at your feet.
How are all those older guys at Lake Highland Prep?
Rubbing on you, revealing what you used to leave kept?
Put your clothes back on, girl; what you're doing is wrong
You know, you're only sixteen so you just play along.
You're a dime hitter, baby
I'm a wrist slitter
Maybe we can come to some sort of pact before we get hurt.
We can start to talk to again
You can meet all my friends
And maybe all of this badness can start to revert.
I've just been noticing that since August 18, 2010
I lost it, got it back, found new friends, new love all when
The old ones that I knew were way worse off and losing
How To Kill Your CharactersHarry Potter and How (Not) To Kill Your CharactersHow To Kill Your Characters3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
...in which I am going to explore what makes a character's death good -- from a storytelling perspective -- and what doesn't, using examples from the Harry Potter novels.
This is, obviously, going to be full of spoilers about who dies and how and why. So for the love of all things purple, if you haven't read all the books yet -- what are you even doing reading this instead of the Harry Potter series?
I am going to focus primarily on the deaths of the good guys, not only because there are so many powerful examples of this done well and done badly in Harry Potter (I am looking at you, final fight scene of Deathly Hallows), but mostly because this is much harder to do satisfactorily than killing off the antagonists. After all, the readers want those bad guys to pay anyway, but for the characters your readers love, you have to have very compelling reasons why they need to die, or your readers might not forgive you.*
So how do you ma
Cretaceous YardThe call came in at 1500 hours, exactly twenty minutes after Leviner returned from his break. He picked up the phone and listened.Cretaceous Yard4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"We'll be there right away, sir."
On the other side of the desk, his partner looked at him. "A homicide?"
"If only we could be so lucky," Leviner snorted, making Ellsie wince.
It was just another case of illegal dumping. Once the 'cera crew had cleared away the overgrowth of ferns, Leviner stalked his way in. "What do you see?" Ellsie called. Although the entrance to the small shed was large enough to easily accommodate Leviner, there was no way Ellsie was fitting inside. Not that it was her fault. Maiasaurs were designed to be out grazing in the fields, not solving crimes. Leviner tried desperately not to think of her as delicious, delicious cattle. If he even so much rumbled his stomach at her, she would turn him into a raptor pancake with one large foot.
Tromping over the carpet of flattened leaves, Leviner swatted a small dragonfly out of the way, deftl
Fruits of Our Labor -MPREG-Fruits of Our Labor -MPREG-7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
I officially hate science, I thought to myself, feeling suddenly tight in my newest pair of jeans. The tv flickered shyly against the wall, dim and hardly trying to enlighten the room. I leaned back in a shattered attempt of comfort, feeling as though my belly was swelling. Got-damn. I muttered, angered by my stomachs swollen form. I rubbed my belly in vain, wishing that a needle or sharp object would resolve this problem. In utter defeat, I release the clasp on my jeans and again feel my belly expand outwards a bit.
I lean back again, ignoring the utter darkness of the night. What are you doing? She asks softly, taking a shy seat beside me. Im not sure if shes embarrassed or attracted to me at this point. My shoulders relax as she nears me, tenderized by her presence, as I always am.
Im...trying to breath. I say, in a dark voice as I pat my swollen belly. A smile cross over her lips, grinning widely and over-exagger
Holocaust StoryHolocaust Story:Holocaust Story7 years ago in Historical More Like This
The bed creaked, and she woke in a cold sweat. She slowly opened her eyes one at a time. After a scan of the room she sighed, and lay back down on the bed with a thud. The bed next to her stirred.
Rachel? Rachel, is that you, a whisper came out of the darkness.
Yes, Im here, Rachel replied, playing with the Star of David on her necklace.
Sister, whats wrong? You sound troubled.
I had a nightmare. In it the Nazis Came and took us away. You were all killed, only I lived.
The last few words came out like mush. Rachel had sat back up on her bed, and put her face in her hands so ashamed f the dream she had, had. She heard a mattress squeak then she felt arms wrap around her shoulders.
Shhh, her sister soothed her.
Both girls sat there. For how long, Rachel didnt know. All she knew was that she was safe. Here in her home, with her family, she was safe. A thud came from below.
April's HouseThe man who would be my lover through April had a daughter.April's House10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I showed her Playboys from 1999 and she grabbed at my breasts.
In mid-April my lover's grandmother died in a Michigan hospital.
The night before we had hurried sex on a friend's floor and in his shower.
I lay naked on a dark blue couch watching B list horror movies
with names like Frankenhooker and drank carbonated strawberry wine.
The floor was covered in empty Bacardi bottles and powdered Cheetos
while the bathroom smelled of concentrated bleach and urine.
I could crawl out onto the flat tarry roof through a second story window.
On the fourth of July I sat on the functionless brick chimney and got high.
The roof in South Oakland always reminded me of Mary Poppins.
Vodka coursing through my blood, I danced like a chimney sweep.
A man with bleached hair and long nails filed to a point walked me home.
He said, Margaret, I want you, and I knew I had stayed in a house full of lies.
Your Cry, Her ControlI hear you, my AngelYour Cry, Her Control4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yet I can't come to you.
No matter how loud you scream,
how hard you cry, or even swear to die,
I can't come to you.
For you see,
She controls me.
She controls everything I say and do.
Mother, why do you torture me so?
It pains me to hear my angel cry.
You won't let me go to him,
when he clearly needs me.
I ask only this, one moment of freedom.
Please, let me go to him.
I will obey your will, your every whim,
Just let me go to him.
Please, let me go to him.
Cloud Your name is a bell that hangs in my heart.
It shatters me just to think of you now.
I miss you so very much.
I wish to return to your side.
I love you Cloud.
Forgive me, my Angel, for I must
Harry Potter AnalysisThe wonderful world of Harry Potter has touched countless lives upon its release. It contains many colorful elements from magic and fantasy to fighting bald snake people with little wooden sticks. Yet at the same time, despite touching so many countless lives, the ever-popular series has not been without its fair share of criticism, a large portion of which may not have been completely unfounded. Harry Potter has been said to promote more than a few more shady practices. It wouldn't hurt to explore and prod some of them in scholarly analysis.Harry Potter Analysis5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Let us take, for example, the most prevalent example in the HP wizarding world. Wands. Harry Potter and friends often use their wands to solve problems and, more often than not, create quite a few of them. HP, Ron, and Draco are constantly seen "whipping them out" and "waving them around," despite the fact many teachers advise most of the Hogwarts students against doing so. This could function as a sort of subliminal nod to boyhood fasc
Raw Hailed as the weeperRaw6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that cries in your stead
Those Albatross claws ruptured my redd
Gone is my hollow
of prickly twine
Leaving its chill-
burrowed 'gainst spine
I'll be the lost one
seeped in the
The Monster of Orange JoylingThe Monster of Orange Joyling4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The children had never seen a monster before.
They'd heard the stories, of course. It was impossible to live in the City of Always Nightfall without having huge, cavernous dreams about the bone-pile it digs its roots into. It was a very big and bloody bone-pile, the one crunching underneath Singing City.
There was Glum Rradung, the bulge-eyed sewer-midget who slithered out of water-closets and gulped down children wandering about in the dark. There was Ingalin, the hungrymind which spontaneously formed out of clutter and garbage. There was the Very Practical Man, whose face was just an enormous nose and an even bigger grin, a demon who, they say, could smell out loneliness and loved to torment the heartbroken and the near-suicides.
And there was the Dark Lord in his pyramid, high up in the inner city where no Squatschild could ever go. The climbing, black stain of Tower Myth and Mastery was a brooding reminder that it was a monster who ruled them all.
Singing City's slum-brats had no l