Thanksgiving Fail by FrankHightower on DeviantArt

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/2025-year-in-review-1281123621FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/TF-drive-apology-976973425FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/2024-year-in-review-1140289839FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/TF-drive-Page-13-preview-981663428FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/Who-am-I-1157611612FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/Pokemon-TF-Drive-Page-1-The-Depression-1083169918FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/Dollar-menu-idea-hands-996387577FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/2025-Growth-Drive-17-Attention-Tourists-1230421713FrankHightower

FrankHightower on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/frankhightower/art/Pokemon-TF-Drive-Endcard-1020665673FrankHightower

Promoted Deviations

Literature

It's my life

[DEVIATION] Thundering silence, waking moments, with only my pulse muting life outside my mind. Blurry, but slowly gaining sharpness, light and shadows separate. One stray thread of light, unwelcome but treasured. Old pains remind me another day has passed. Solid footing, reassuring I will stand. Thunder softens to bird's songs. I rub my eyes. Draw deeply one breath. Life

Literature

Coffee and Cigarettes

The refrigerator’s hum is the only sound inside his apartment. It lacks a real presence. He still occupies in its vicinity, clearing out boxes of old machinery. Not really, they’re the clothes he brought on his back, and other survival essentials like toothpaste and shampoo. He grunts, eyebrows pursing as his body slams onto the couch, he’s breathing heavily. It isn’t a I ran forty miles, it’s something akin to I arrived here, eight hours away from home. The neighbor is a snoring boar, doors open and slam in the corridor, outside the window is a giant space he cannot fill. His eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent bulb above him, a spotlight he’d never thought he’d find himself under. He shifts his weight, and gazes at the coffee table. Six brown-stained, white mugs are perfectly lined, keeping score of each refill. Further down, is the tablet. Not tonight, not when he can’t orchestrate the noises outside. He should go for a walk. *** His pacing slows, boots

Literature

Going Home Soylent Green Style

Going Home Soylent Green Style by p.b. wells watching Soylent Green with the Admiral sweating in the glass, I sit here thinking maybe the future doesn’t arrive with flying cars or silver suits or some clean little miracle from a lab. maybe it arrives with a government clerk handing you a form and saying, when you’re tired enough, we have a room for that. going home, they called it. soft music. pretty pictures. a clean bed. the last kindness dressed up like theater. and hell, part of me understands it. that’s the dangerous part. because life can wear a man down until the walls start whispering and the bottle looks like a priest who finally tells the truth. but once a society builds a beautiful door out of here, it starts pushing people toward it. the poor. the old. the sick. the inconvenient bastards who cost too much and complain too loud. call it mercy and you can sell anything. call it dignity and the murder looks polished. maybe going home is a good idea only

Suggested Deviants

MotleyMurmurs

Literature

Mediocre Madness

Mediocre people living mediocre lives comes crashing down in the wake of adversity.These ordinary lives; slowly fading into dark; swiftly growing into sparks; quickly dieing in the night.Awe in those who live in spite, Shock to those who thought all was right. Looking back into shattered mirrors, Reflects calamity that was always there.Love and hate and masked emotions. Fed up lives and storm tossed seas. Toss and turns and twirl and churns. Even escape now singes and burns.Mediocre lives turned upside down. Madness chokes and steals and drowns, All that was peaceful, calm and right, And those lives turn away from all they know.When the un...

Literature

The Ranch

This place, I have in the depths of my wandering soul To find in life's path, this place, once more Round I go to always return To a place my family owns The soul of what once was Wanders there, mingled with my own The trees we climbed when we were young Now wither under the shining sun To give back the life that it took From the ground on which it stood That helped us build that fort From the minds eye of a child We searched for holes and frogs And midnight creatures in the fog We escaped into make believe worlds To free ourselves from our changing lives Even now our goal is still the same To walk the dirt road, to hid among the brush Like the little heathens we used to be Now we're older, looking back At the past and the place That gave us wings to fly up high To show us all that we can build Whether it be forts or families Both are similar in more ways than one The only way that really matters Is the one that deals with our hearts and minds This place will always remind us Of

Literature

Facade

You walk in here with your suave saunter chewing your gum with a smile on your face to hide the lie that is your life. You're world is crumpling at the edges, tearing at the seams, but your walk will never change your smile will never fade. Your gum has long ago turned tasteless; it's dry, sticky and stale like your life; chewed on it too long without purpose.

TheNinthWaveTNW

Literature

Whispers in the Kitchen

Otis sat at the small kitchen table, a plate of scrambled eggs steaming in front of him. The morning sunlight spilled across the faded linoleum, and the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound breaking the quiet. Across from him, his grandson, Daniel, stirred his coffee and watched him with a careful, patient eye. “Is somebody in this house?” Otis asked suddenly, his voice tight with a mixture of fear and confusion. Daniel blinked, setting down his mug. “No, Grandpa. Just me and you.” Otis frowned, turning his head slowly as if trying to catch a shadow. “I could have sworn I heard somebody say… ‘Let’s take those dogs out.’” His eyes darted toward the empty living room. “I don’t have any dogs.” Daniel paused, listening. From the corner of the kitchen, the muted voice of a television came through—an old home improvement show his grandfather liked to leave on in the background. On the screen, a cheerful host was instructing a homeowner: “Now, let’s take those dogs out while we paint

Literature

Paul's (Very Loud) Search For Eggnog

Paul had a problem that followed him everywhere, like a siren he couldn’t shut off. Every word came out of his mouth at full blast. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate anyone. That was just how his voice worked. But the world heard fury where there was none. On a cold afternoon, Paul walked into a small gas station, still annoyed from striking out at Walmart. The seasonal aisle had betrayed him. No eggnog. Not even the cheap kind. He approached the counter, already rehearsing his words in his head, hoping this time might go better. “DO YOU HAVE ANY EGGNOG?” he asked. The cashier stiffened, eyes widening like she’d been personally accused of ruining Christmas. “No, sir,” she said cautiously. “We don’t have any eggnog. We’re waiting on the truck to come.” Paul sighed, frustration leaking out—not helped by the volume knob permanently stuck on max. “DAMN, I CAN’T FIND ANY EGGNOG ANYWHERE.” That did it. The cashier leaned back, hands hovering near the counter like she might need

Literature

Andrew, The Piws, and Future Hieroglyphs

Andrew jolted awake, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright, unfamiliar light. The air felt strange—crisper, more sterile. He had no idea where he was, but something was deeply wrong. Gone was the familiar hum of traffic or the glow of streetlights outside his bedroom window. Instead, sleek metallic structures loomed in the distance, and everything around him had a bizarre futuristic feel. Andrew sat up, rubbing his eyes, his mind reeling. He had no idea how he'd gotten here. The last thing he remembered was drifting off to sleep, exhausted after another long day at his office job. But now... Where was he? A group of people approached him, all dressed in clothing that looked like it had been pulled from a sci-fi film—simple, yet elegant in a way that didn't seem practical. Their eyes were wide, curious, as if Andrew was the oddity. "Hello?" Andrew ventured, but they only blinked at him in confusion. One of them, a tall, thin man with a strange translucent tablet in his

paulscha

Literature

For Bob

For BobMy name is Paul and what I do is fall Welcome to me And my fortress of insolvencyWhen I moved in It was a little fixer-upper Two hundred and five fixes later Nothing's up but the lease And the cupboard is bareHave you noticed The sign for victory Looks just like the sign for peace? When I get where I'm going Will I be there?I can't remember why When I was small I used to sign my name In the airSo leave your young men to their visions Leave your old men to their dreams Come to me, your young/old friendI think this is what 'we' means To help each other end What we both know must end To begin what neither one of us Is certain can begin...

Literature

Now A Word From Our Sponsors

I wish that language possessed more of that immortality we writers are prone to invest in it.The very phrase \'dead language\' gives me a bad case of spiritual vertigo.Language is not a passive medium. Language is life, not life-support. When we use words as a means to an end they take their immediate revenge by ceasing to mean anything.I sometimes feel like a museum of archaic phrases. We know a phrase has become archaic when it is reclassified as a saying.Case in point:There is an old saying, \"A man is as good as his word.\"I actually believe that.In our ironic, \'post-modern\' age, the very notion is greeted with a belly-laugh. \"Y...

Literature

Bearing News

I see a new doctor A few hours later he calls me And the price of hope rises once againAlready I was living beyond my meansFor this, I had to be alone For the privilege The honor Of sitting here, rocking back and forth on the floor \"Afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid...\"I am not being ironic The heart must find a way To press back out what presses in against itEverything I see makes me cry A blue sky crowning a cheshire cat smile In a portrait of Michael Blue eyes shining brightly In a photo of Derek by the creek The blue-green of the sea That calls out to me Every time I walk along the cliffsIt was on those walks, I think That my ca...

Suggested Collections

Camera of change

Literature

Camera of Change: Spectator Sport (TG)

“Come on, Dennis! We’re missing the game!” Dennis groaned as Alex sprinted up the steps of the stands. The fans were shaking and rattling the stands, to Dennis’ annoyance. He covered his ears as the crowd burst into cheers as news of the home team scoring a touchdown was blasted over the intercom. “Why does everything have to be so loud?” Dennis grumbled, unheard underneath all the noise that surrounded him. “Would a little silence kill anyone?” When Dennis reached his seat next to Alex, Alex was already enthralled in the game, leaning against the railing and screaming along with the rest of the fans. Dennis rolled his eyes. He was already...

Literature

CAMERA Of CHANGE: A NEW LIFE

CAMERA OF CHANGE: A NEW LIFEBYPOTSTICKER13Mick and Sam both walked through the park. “Why so glum?” Mick asked Sam. Sam let out a deep sigh. “My girlfriend dumped me” Mick was shocked to hear this. Sam and his girlfriend had been in a serious relationship for some time. “That sucks man. But cheer up, there are plenty of fish in the sea” Sam just shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so” Mick couldn’t stand to see his friend like this. He wished he could cheer him up. Mick then looked at the grass and noticed a camera. It seemed brand new. “I wonder who lost this?” Mick thought to himself. “What do you have there?” Sam asked. “A camera. I ...

Literature

Camera of Change: Season of Change

"Wow, The leaves sure are pretty this time of year!" Lea was taking a walk with her best friend, Adam. As it was autumn now, the weather was optimal for taking walks, not too hot yet not too cold. It was an added bonus that the leaves were changing and turning the trees into pieces of art decorated with warm colors. Lea was big into fine arts and photography. She was a huge nerd when it came to fine art. She would go on and on about the beauty of nature and color pallets and such. Being high school students, they didn't get much exercise besides walking. These walks benefited them in other ways too. Lea would get inspiration for art, A...

A Little Stolen Trust

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 40

After a few weeks of no leads and dwindling contact from Felicia, Colfax's routine settled back into what it had been before he found his impossible specimens. By most appearances, really, it was as if he'd never found them at all. The cage had been moved to a hall closet, he'd brought Felicia's things to the lab when it became clear he wouldn't find the specimens anytime soon, and every note they'd ever taken on the subject had been stolen on the same day. There was little he could do, as he'd never taken a photo and had never backed up anything. He'd played things a bit too secretively, and paid for it. Whoever had come into his apartment didn't need to do much at all to cover their tracks, not with the size of what they stole. The frustration used to sit more uncomfortably on his shoulders, but after enough time Colfax had decided to compartmentalize like he always did. He still had his normal work. His thesis had hardly suffered while he studied the intriguing little specimens.

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 39

Suitably oblivious to their silent communication, Sawyer worked on getting dinner heated up. True to his thought earlier, he decided on just microwaving the Chinese leftovers from lunch- it was easiest. Plus, he loved feeding the little guys new things (as long as they didn’t have nuts). It was just fun to see what they liked and what they didn’t. So as the takeout box rotated in the microwave, Sawyer grabbed a soda and found some of the miniature doll cups he’d acquired for Onesie and Twosie, filling those up with water. It was routine for them at this point. Adrian waited for Sawyer to bring over the cups of water, took one to hand off to Charlie before claiming his own, and settled down to take a sip. He eyed the can of soda Sawyer had claimed for himself. Even from a distance they could see the occasional droplet leaping from the opening, courtesy of the carbonation within. For the best that they'd never tried it. The room filled with the aroma from the food heating up, and by

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 38

Despite these occasional stresses, life at Sawyer’s remained relatively peaceful for the viri. More days passed, then weeks, and little by little their time as experiments fell further and further behind them. Colfax only lived a couple of floors down, but given that the viri never left Sawyer’s apartment, their former captor might as well have lived on a different planet. And good riddance, as far as they were concerned. They might still be kept by a human, but their life with Sawyer was markedly better than their previous captivity. Sawyer coddled them as if they were young animals, sure, but at least he tried to be kind. It made a big difference. That, along with most of their days being spent quietly in their enclosure, helped Charlie and Adrian feel a bit more comfortable and assured. They even had cups, bowls, and spoons now, something Charlie appreciated all over again as he scooped a new cupful of water for himself out of their water dish. If he never had to drink with his

Stories from my island friend

onanvil on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/onanvil/art/Castle-Budeea-1330845599onanvil

Literature

18 Year 1 After the deaths: Learning to Sail

13 November Dear Future, the sun scared us. As soon as we wake up, we discovered the ruins of Berra, all burned up with evil intent. That you can see because the houses were too far away for the fire to hop from building to building. Besides, there's little trace of fire among the houses; not to mention it's raining almost every day. Carlos was still hopeful for a while, but then we saw so many bones on the beach; we didn't dare to get close, so they might be sheep's bones or something. Yeah, sure. Mum asked us if we wanted to return home, but nobody said anything because we'd rather let Mum decide for us when things get too scary. Yeah, we're inmature like that. “OK, let's don't panic.” Sergeant Mum always commits to her mission. “We've gone through this situation before. Naked bones mean that whatever happened, happened a long time ago; so the whole thing ended months ago, at least. Most probably whoever committed this atrocity is no longer around, or we would've been

Literature

As It Is -37- I'm not Evil, Yay!

Dear Self, I got some great news, but I am not sharing these with Daniel because he already knows . And I wanted to wait a little because I wanted to think alone for a while, now that my mind seems to work better, with less anxiety and self-hate. OK, about the-hate. I talked with the therapist already. She still believes it was mostly fear and panic the reason I did what-I-did. I'm not saying that's so nice, but it sounds better than hate, and it's easier to forgive myself. Now, other good news. They might not change anything, but they make me feel so much better. Daniel asked me to meet him at the safe room. When that happens you know it's something important, and I didn't remember having done anything too wrong, so I was a little wobbly. But you know how it is, you think you haven't done anything bad, but you fear you might have done something unaware, or you think like X is a little thing but some teacher thinks X is not a little thing at all. Well, so it was that my

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

It's my life

[DEVIATION] Thundering silence, waking moments, with only my pulse muting life outside my mind. Blurry, but slowly gaining sharpness, light and shadows separate. One stray thread of light, unwelcome but treasured. Old pains remind me another day has passed. Solid footing, reassuring I will stand. Thunder softens to bird's songs. I rub my eyes. Draw deeply one breath. Life

Literature

Coffee and Cigarettes

The refrigerator’s hum is the only sound inside his apartment. It lacks a real presence. He still occupies in its vicinity, clearing out boxes of old machinery. Not really, they’re the clothes he brought on his back, and other survival essentials like toothpaste and shampoo. He grunts, eyebrows pursing as his body slams onto the couch, he’s breathing heavily. It isn’t a I ran forty miles, it’s something akin to I arrived here, eight hours away from home. The neighbor is a snoring boar, doors open and slam in the corridor, outside the window is a giant space he cannot fill. His eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent bulb above him, a spotlight he’d never thought he’d find himself under. He shifts his weight, and gazes at the coffee table. Six brown-stained, white mugs are perfectly lined, keeping score of each refill. Further down, is the tablet. Not tonight, not when he can’t orchestrate the noises outside. He should go for a walk. *** His pacing slows, boots

Literature

Going Home Soylent Green Style

Going Home Soylent Green Style by p.b. wells watching Soylent Green with the Admiral sweating in the glass, I sit here thinking maybe the future doesn’t arrive with flying cars or silver suits or some clean little miracle from a lab. maybe it arrives with a government clerk handing you a form and saying, when you’re tired enough, we have a room for that. going home, they called it. soft music. pretty pictures. a clean bed. the last kindness dressed up like theater. and hell, part of me understands it. that’s the dangerous part. because life can wear a man down until the walls start whispering and the bottle looks like a priest who finally tells the truth. but once a society builds a beautiful door out of here, it starts pushing people toward it. the poor. the old. the sick. the inconvenient bastards who cost too much and complain too loud. call it mercy and you can sell anything. call it dignity and the murder looks polished. maybe going home is a good idea only

Suggested Deviants

MotleyMurmurs

Literature

Mediocre Madness

Mediocre people living mediocre lives comes crashing down in the wake of adversity.These ordinary lives; slowly fading into dark; swiftly growing into sparks; quickly dieing in the night.Awe in those who live in spite, Shock to those who thought all was right. Looking back into shattered mirrors, Reflects calamity that was always there.Love and hate and masked emotions. Fed up lives and storm tossed seas. Toss and turns and twirl and churns. Even escape now singes and burns.Mediocre lives turned upside down. Madness chokes and steals and drowns, All that was peaceful, calm and right, And those lives turn away from all they know.When the un...

Literature

The Ranch

This place, I have in the depths of my wandering soul To find in life's path, this place, once more Round I go to always return To a place my family owns The soul of what once was Wanders there, mingled with my own The trees we climbed when we were young Now wither under the shining sun To give back the life that it took From the ground on which it stood That helped us build that fort From the minds eye of a child We searched for holes and frogs And midnight creatures in the fog We escaped into make believe worlds To free ourselves from our changing lives Even now our goal is still the same To walk the dirt road, to hid among the brush Like the little heathens we used to be Now we're older, looking back At the past and the place That gave us wings to fly up high To show us all that we can build Whether it be forts or families Both are similar in more ways than one The only way that really matters Is the one that deals with our hearts and minds This place will always remind us Of

Literature

Facade

You walk in here with your suave saunter chewing your gum with a smile on your face to hide the lie that is your life. You're world is crumpling at the edges, tearing at the seams, but your walk will never change your smile will never fade. Your gum has long ago turned tasteless; it's dry, sticky and stale like your life; chewed on it too long without purpose.

TheNinthWaveTNW

Literature

Whispers in the Kitchen

Otis sat at the small kitchen table, a plate of scrambled eggs steaming in front of him. The morning sunlight spilled across the faded linoleum, and the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound breaking the quiet. Across from him, his grandson, Daniel, stirred his coffee and watched him with a careful, patient eye. “Is somebody in this house?” Otis asked suddenly, his voice tight with a mixture of fear and confusion. Daniel blinked, setting down his mug. “No, Grandpa. Just me and you.” Otis frowned, turning his head slowly as if trying to catch a shadow. “I could have sworn I heard somebody say… ‘Let’s take those dogs out.’” His eyes darted toward the empty living room. “I don’t have any dogs.” Daniel paused, listening. From the corner of the kitchen, the muted voice of a television came through—an old home improvement show his grandfather liked to leave on in the background. On the screen, a cheerful host was instructing a homeowner: “Now, let’s take those dogs out while we paint

Literature

Paul's (Very Loud) Search For Eggnog

Paul had a problem that followed him everywhere, like a siren he couldn’t shut off. Every word came out of his mouth at full blast. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate anyone. That was just how his voice worked. But the world heard fury where there was none. On a cold afternoon, Paul walked into a small gas station, still annoyed from striking out at Walmart. The seasonal aisle had betrayed him. No eggnog. Not even the cheap kind. He approached the counter, already rehearsing his words in his head, hoping this time might go better. “DO YOU HAVE ANY EGGNOG?” he asked. The cashier stiffened, eyes widening like she’d been personally accused of ruining Christmas. “No, sir,” she said cautiously. “We don’t have any eggnog. We’re waiting on the truck to come.” Paul sighed, frustration leaking out—not helped by the volume knob permanently stuck on max. “DAMN, I CAN’T FIND ANY EGGNOG ANYWHERE.” That did it. The cashier leaned back, hands hovering near the counter like she might need

Literature

Andrew, The Piws, and Future Hieroglyphs

Andrew jolted awake, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright, unfamiliar light. The air felt strange—crisper, more sterile. He had no idea where he was, but something was deeply wrong. Gone was the familiar hum of traffic or the glow of streetlights outside his bedroom window. Instead, sleek metallic structures loomed in the distance, and everything around him had a bizarre futuristic feel. Andrew sat up, rubbing his eyes, his mind reeling. He had no idea how he'd gotten here. The last thing he remembered was drifting off to sleep, exhausted after another long day at his office job. But now... Where was he? A group of people approached him, all dressed in clothing that looked like it had been pulled from a sci-fi film—simple, yet elegant in a way that didn't seem practical. Their eyes were wide, curious, as if Andrew was the oddity. "Hello?" Andrew ventured, but they only blinked at him in confusion. One of them, a tall, thin man with a strange translucent tablet in his

paulscha

Literature

For Bob

For BobMy name is Paul and what I do is fall Welcome to me And my fortress of insolvencyWhen I moved in It was a little fixer-upper Two hundred and five fixes later Nothing's up but the lease And the cupboard is bareHave you noticed The sign for victory Looks just like the sign for peace? When I get where I'm going Will I be there?I can't remember why When I was small I used to sign my name In the airSo leave your young men to their visions Leave your old men to their dreams Come to me, your young/old friendI think this is what 'we' means To help each other end What we both know must end To begin what neither one of us Is certain can begin...

Literature

Now A Word From Our Sponsors

I wish that language possessed more of that immortality we writers are prone to invest in it.The very phrase \'dead language\' gives me a bad case of spiritual vertigo.Language is not a passive medium. Language is life, not life-support. When we use words as a means to an end they take their immediate revenge by ceasing to mean anything.I sometimes feel like a museum of archaic phrases. We know a phrase has become archaic when it is reclassified as a saying.Case in point:There is an old saying, \"A man is as good as his word.\"I actually believe that.In our ironic, \'post-modern\' age, the very notion is greeted with a belly-laugh. \"Y...

Literature

Bearing News

I see a new doctor A few hours later he calls me And the price of hope rises once againAlready I was living beyond my meansFor this, I had to be alone For the privilege The honor Of sitting here, rocking back and forth on the floor \"Afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid...\"I am not being ironic The heart must find a way To press back out what presses in against itEverything I see makes me cry A blue sky crowning a cheshire cat smile In a portrait of Michael Blue eyes shining brightly In a photo of Derek by the creek The blue-green of the sea That calls out to me Every time I walk along the cliffsIt was on those walks, I think That my ca...

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Camera of Change: Spectator Sport (TG)

“Come on, Dennis! We’re missing the game!” Dennis groaned as Alex sprinted up the steps of the stands. The fans were shaking and rattling the stands, to Dennis’ annoyance. He covered his ears as the crowd burst into cheers as news of the home team scoring a touchdown was blasted over the intercom. “Why does everything have to be so loud?” Dennis grumbled, unheard underneath all the noise that surrounded him. “Would a little silence kill anyone?” When Dennis reached his seat next to Alex, Alex was already enthralled in the game, leaning against the railing and screaming along with the rest of the fans. Dennis rolled his eyes. He was already...

Literature

CAMERA Of CHANGE: A NEW LIFE

CAMERA OF CHANGE: A NEW LIFEBYPOTSTICKER13Mick and Sam both walked through the park. “Why so glum?” Mick asked Sam. Sam let out a deep sigh. “My girlfriend dumped me” Mick was shocked to hear this. Sam and his girlfriend had been in a serious relationship for some time. “That sucks man. But cheer up, there are plenty of fish in the sea” Sam just shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so” Mick couldn’t stand to see his friend like this. He wished he could cheer him up. Mick then looked at the grass and noticed a camera. It seemed brand new. “I wonder who lost this?” Mick thought to himself. “What do you have there?” Sam asked. “A camera. I ...

Literature

Camera of Change: Season of Change

"Wow, The leaves sure are pretty this time of year!" Lea was taking a walk with her best friend, Adam. As it was autumn now, the weather was optimal for taking walks, not too hot yet not too cold. It was an added bonus that the leaves were changing and turning the trees into pieces of art decorated with warm colors. Lea was big into fine arts and photography. She was a huge nerd when it came to fine art. She would go on and on about the beauty of nature and color pallets and such. Being high school students, they didn't get much exercise besides walking. These walks benefited them in other ways too. Lea would get inspiration for art, A...

A Little Stolen Trust

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 40

After a few weeks of no leads and dwindling contact from Felicia, Colfax's routine settled back into what it had been before he found his impossible specimens. By most appearances, really, it was as if he'd never found them at all. The cage had been moved to a hall closet, he'd brought Felicia's things to the lab when it became clear he wouldn't find the specimens anytime soon, and every note they'd ever taken on the subject had been stolen on the same day. There was little he could do, as he'd never taken a photo and had never backed up anything. He'd played things a bit too secretively, and paid for it. Whoever had come into his apartment didn't need to do much at all to cover their tracks, not with the size of what they stole. The frustration used to sit more uncomfortably on his shoulders, but after enough time Colfax had decided to compartmentalize like he always did. He still had his normal work. His thesis had hardly suffered while he studied the intriguing little specimens.

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 39

Suitably oblivious to their silent communication, Sawyer worked on getting dinner heated up. True to his thought earlier, he decided on just microwaving the Chinese leftovers from lunch- it was easiest. Plus, he loved feeding the little guys new things (as long as they didn’t have nuts). It was just fun to see what they liked and what they didn’t. So as the takeout box rotated in the microwave, Sawyer grabbed a soda and found some of the miniature doll cups he’d acquired for Onesie and Twosie, filling those up with water. It was routine for them at this point. Adrian waited for Sawyer to bring over the cups of water, took one to hand off to Charlie before claiming his own, and settled down to take a sip. He eyed the can of soda Sawyer had claimed for himself. Even from a distance they could see the occasional droplet leaping from the opening, courtesy of the carbonation within. For the best that they'd never tried it. The room filled with the aroma from the food heating up, and by

Literature

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 38

Despite these occasional stresses, life at Sawyer’s remained relatively peaceful for the viri. More days passed, then weeks, and little by little their time as experiments fell further and further behind them. Colfax only lived a couple of floors down, but given that the viri never left Sawyer’s apartment, their former captor might as well have lived on a different planet. And good riddance, as far as they were concerned. They might still be kept by a human, but their life with Sawyer was markedly better than their previous captivity. Sawyer coddled them as if they were young animals, sure, but at least he tried to be kind. It made a big difference. That, along with most of their days being spent quietly in their enclosure, helped Charlie and Adrian feel a bit more comfortable and assured. They even had cups, bowls, and spoons now, something Charlie appreciated all over again as he scooped a new cupful of water for himself out of their water dish. If he never had to drink with his

Stories from my island friend

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Literature

18 Year 1 After the deaths: Learning to Sail

13 November Dear Future, the sun scared us. As soon as we wake up, we discovered the ruins of Berra, all burned up with evil intent. That you can see because the houses were too far away for the fire to hop from building to building. Besides, there's little trace of fire among the houses; not to mention it's raining almost every day. Carlos was still hopeful for a while, but then we saw so many bones on the beach; we didn't dare to get close, so they might be sheep's bones or something. Yeah, sure. Mum asked us if we wanted to return home, but nobody said anything because we'd rather let Mum decide for us when things get too scary. Yeah, we're inmature like that. “OK, let's don't panic.” Sergeant Mum always commits to her mission. “We've gone through this situation before. Naked bones mean that whatever happened, happened a long time ago; so the whole thing ended months ago, at least. Most probably whoever committed this atrocity is no longer around, or we would've been

Literature

As It Is -37- I'm not Evil, Yay!

Dear Self, I got some great news, but I am not sharing these with Daniel because he already knows . And I wanted to wait a little because I wanted to think alone for a while, now that my mind seems to work better, with less anxiety and self-hate. OK, about the-hate. I talked with the therapist already. She still believes it was mostly fear and panic the reason I did what-I-did. I'm not saying that's so nice, but it sounds better than hate, and it's easier to forgive myself. Now, other good news. They might not change anything, but they make me feel so much better. Daniel asked me to meet him at the safe room. When that happens you know it's something important, and I didn't remember having done anything too wrong, so I was a little wobbly. But you know how it is, you think you haven't done anything bad, but you fear you might have done something unaware, or you think like X is a little thing but some teacher thinks X is not a little thing at all. Well, so it was that my

Deviation Actions

It's my life

Coffee and Cigarettes

Going Home Soylent Green Style

Mediocre Madness

The Ranch

Facade

Whispers in the Kitchen

Paul's (Very Loud) Search For Eggnog

Andrew, The Piws, and Future Hieroglyphs

For Bob

Now A Word From Our Sponsors

Bearing News

Camera of Change: Spectator Sport (TG)

CAMERA Of CHANGE: A NEW LIFE

Camera of Change: Season of Change

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 40

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 39

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 38

18 Year 1 After the deaths: Learning to Sail

As It Is -37- I'm not Evil, Yay!

It's my life

Coffee and Cigarettes

Going Home Soylent Green Style

Mediocre Madness

The Ranch

Facade

Whispers in the Kitchen

Paul's (Very Loud) Search For Eggnog

Andrew, The Piws, and Future Hieroglyphs

For Bob

Now A Word From Our Sponsors

Bearing News

Camera of Change: Spectator Sport (TG)

CAMERA Of CHANGE: A NEW LIFE

Camera of Change: Season of Change

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 40

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 39

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 38

18 Year 1 After the deaths: Learning to Sail

As It Is -37- I'm not Evil, Yay!

Thanksgiving Fail

Description

It's my life

Coffee and Cigarettes

Going Home Soylent Green Style

Mediocre Madness

The Ranch

Facade

Whispers in the Kitchen

Paul's (Very Loud) Search For Eggnog

Andrew, The Piws, and Future Hieroglyphs

For Bob

Now A Word From Our Sponsors

Bearing News

Camera of Change: Spectator Sport (TG)

CAMERA Of CHANGE: A NEW LIFE

Camera of Change: Season of Change

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 40

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 39

A Little Stolen Trust Cpt. 38

18 Year 1 After the deaths: Learning to Sail

As It Is -37- I'm not Evil, Yay!