Father TimeIt’s been exactly 5016 years, seven months, eighteen days, five hours, 32 seconds and 57 seconds since the dawn of time. 58, 59, 33 minutes…More Like This
So why do I keep track of every passing second of ever moment that passes while I am awake? Because I know when and how it all ends. I know what will happen, precisely when it will happen. I have to be where something big is happening in time, so I can record it books so the people will remember.
So that they will recall the wars and consequences of the past. Every being that died in agony and, sometimes, in vain. My heart breaks every time I hear a young knight scream as a steel blade passes through his ribs. I can hardly look as the sword is drawn from his body and he collapses, lifeless, to the bloodstained battlefield; but I have to. Though it costs me countless terror-filled nights, I have to make sure that no great war, battle or scrimmage is forgotten.
They say that pain cor
e-mag WELCOMEMore Like This
Hi there and welcome to the first installment of Home of the ARTist, the e-mag of Daily-Deviations .
First of all, I, as the Founder of Daily-Deviations want to apologize for several things.
I am sorry that this is published so extremely late. And I am also sorry that this is not as beautiful as it was supposed to be.
I hope you´ll be able to forgive us if you keep in mind that this was the baby of our former founder Jonathan. He left us, though, because he had to face some serious problems in real life and we can understand that he couldn´t finish this project anymore, and even though I am feeling sorry that I was not able to make it as good as he wanted it to be at the beginning I still hope you´ll have fun with our e-mag.
Anyway, here´s the e-mag now filled full of features from some talented artists that we know you'll enjoy.
Some of you may be wondering how we came up with the idea to cr
Raven's RoomMore Like This
I sit alone in the room the watch on my wrist ticks in the background I am the only living presence yet I am not alone. The lingering silence alters my hearing and elevates my awareness not to perfection enough to pick up the finest of acute sounds, even those that are seemingly not there. A single candle sits opposite me upon my desk. It has been burning for quite some time and seeps upon itself in a depraved dissolution with its once perfect waxy form warped and excreted down its sides. I make up my mind and hastily grab a pen and parchment to begin a letter to my friend; it is of the utmost importance. My body twitches at the sound of looming voices that resonate beyond the safety of my bedroom door. They speak in noiseless whispers that beckon me from my roost and attempt to coerce me away from a fate that I am most deserving of.
I scribble furiously; the scratching of metal on wood combined with the dim glow of t