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About Literature / Professional E. L. DraytonFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
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Day nine hundred twenty eight.
Almost three years in this place would break anyone, but it can't break Daniel.
"Ma Ma. Ma Ma."
The words of a mechanical doll wake him. He rolls both of his ankles, making sure his nightmare is still real. The clinking sound of cuffs bring the feeling of panic in the form of bile up to his throat. He leans over the side of the bed and spits into a rusty bucket.
"Did I blackout again? I'm sorry, honey," he says, stroking the straw like hair of the doll lying next to him under the covers. She blinks at him as a slight breeze enters the room from a crack in one of the windows. "Don't look at me like that, I know what you're thinking, but today could be the day."
"Suicide is the indecisive man's solution," she says with a grin.
"I told you already, I can't do it."
"Indecision is the fear of man."
"I am not afraid to die. I have simply resigned myself to living. Circumstances be damned," he reasons, shaking one foot in the air, making the ankle cuffs clink. "
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Judgement Day
“You’ll be sorry. You’ll all be sorry. Locking me up isn’t going to stop me. Nothing can stop me. Nothing.”
Without waiting for his bailiff to dismiss the courtroom, Judge Walker rushed to his chambers and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it, attempting to calm his nerves.
He’s heard many cases where psychotic killers stood before him as he passed judgement, but this one was different. There was no question of his guilt, but the way he breathed when he was put on the stand, as if he was documenting the Judge’s scent.
He’d done it before to many unsuspecting victims. Something about their scent gave him cravings he couldn’t deny. His latest victim, a blind date, wore a perfume he desired. In two days’ time the State Police found her dismembered.
“Sir,” came a voice on the other side of the door. Judge Walker quickly disrobed and sat in his chair.
“Come in.”
“Would you like an escort ho
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The Hitman
A bead of sweat danced across the scar on his face. The ghost light on stage provided just enough light to read the note he clutched:
“Theater. 3pm.”
He never asked questions or knew who his employer was. He found his work much more fulfilling this way. If the amount was paid in full what did he care about the life he was charged to take and the reasons why?
He heard a door open and his body stiffened with anticipation. Waiting for the perfect moment to attack was his favorite part. Footsteps in the distance told him he was about to kill a woman. There was no mistaking those high heeled shoes.
He could tell she was looking around for whoever lured her to this secret death trap. A smile crept across his face as he began to sidestep the instruments towards where he knew she was headed. His plan was to kill her before she reached the bottom step. Simple enough. One quick slit of the throat from behind should do the trick.
Then it happened! What every hitman dreads, he knocked
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My case was a unique one. They’d been looking for me for more than five months. I ran for as long as I could, but I knew my expiration date was coming up, and saw no use in running any longer.
I was caught by a rookie but his superior wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. My exploits were notorious.
“So, we finally caught you,” he gloated. I smelled him down the hall and knew what was coming. I was ready. “Are you ready to confess now?”
“Confess to what?” I asked him. I could play this cat and mouse game all night if he wanted.
“You’re sweating like a pig!” He tossed a thick folder down in front of me and, as if mounting a horse, sat down, his arms folded. “You reek of guilt. It’s only a matter of time before you confess.”
“If only you had time,” I said, giving him a sly grin. He knew something wasn’t right. He flipped through my folder then stopped, his eyes bulged. He saw
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"Step right up if you dare, meet the man we all fear! He'll tell you all you need to know. He's blind, but he can see your soul," the carnival worker exclaims to those hurrying by.
All except a young boy, standing on the other side, holding a large lollipop, with a skeptical look on his face, even bothers to pay attention.
"You! Yeah, you," the carnival worker shouts, pointing to the boy. "Come here. How would you like to know your future, son?"
The boy grins up at him, baring a gap where two front teeth should be.
"How much ya got? Reflection won't see you unless you give him something."
The boy shrugs, handing over one shiny quarter. The carnival worker raises his eyebrows, then with a wink pockets the boy’s offering, as he pulls back the curtain just enough for him to enter.
The room is dark with a table in the center, surrounded by mirrors and a man sitting there, wearing a blindfold. The boy walks up to the table and waits, till the man pulls away the blindfold, revealing co
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Protocol Z
“They’ve found me,” he whispered as he heard shuffling footsteps in the distance. “Trace, are your systems functioning yet? I could really use you right now.”
The ships supercomputer whirred to life, but he could tell by her slow speech she was not yet operational. On this planet, believed to be inhabited by unidentified beings, he was alone.
Suddenly, the doors hissed open, but he found his movement slow and labored.
“Jesus Christ, what happened in here?” He could hear a voice ask, but his vision was blurred. “Trace. Report.”
“Transformation complete.”
“Yes, I see that, but what did you transform him into?”
“Protocol Z.”
The Generals eyes widened as he backed out of the room and sealed the doors immediately.
“Lieutenant, shut down Trace and call the EVAC Team to dispose of what’s in there.”
“Was it not a success?”
“If you call turning our best Astronaut into a
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The Cemetery
The chimes over the front door rang out, signaling a customer had just entered my shop.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” I shouted through a veil of hanging beads, more decoration than sound barrier. I hated their noisy presence, but the quiet work of a taxidermist called for it.
“How can I help you?” I asked, stepping through the beads into an empty shop. “Hello?” Not a living soul could be heard amongst the menagerie of wildlife. On the counter I discovered a piece of paper which read, ‘cemetery, 5am.’
At the cemetery, propped up against a freshly marked grave, a journal shimmered in the morning sun. There was no mistaking I was meant to find it. A gift from my twin sister.
The blank pages of this mysterious journal called out to me for more than a week after I brought it home. When I finally used it, I couldn’t stop. I filled more than a dozen pages in one sitting with animal illustrations.
The next morning I woke to tattoos
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The First Reindeer
Many know the story of Santa Claus and his eight Reindeer, but no one ever wonders who his first Reindeer was? Before he became Santa Claus he was Nicholas Claus, the Toymaker, who lived in a small town, but had dreams too large to contain or ignore. This is the story of the Reindeer sent to make sure his dreams would live on in every boy and girl…
“She needs you more than I,” he explained, as he held down his shimmering red cape that shone silver under the moonlight, while we walked down a dirt road. We stopped at a small cottage, nestled among others in a long row, in a town that didn’t look prosperous, but I could tell was very promising.
“You’ll be the best medicine for her. As I hear it, she has precious little time. I'm counting on you to make it the best she'll ever have,” he said as he pat me on my head, making sure to avoid the baby antlers I had growing already. “You understand me, girl?” I nodded vigorously, excited for t
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E. L. Drayton
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Working on an Illustrated Novel.



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penguin04 Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2017  Student Digital Artist
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