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Glitchcode2447 on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/glitchcode2447/art/The-Space-Hotel-Damaged-837120963Glitchcode2447

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

elsewhere, ever and never

you exhale and light licks at the edges of a dustcover, a book unfurls itself in a fluttering of pages. how is it you still occupy this this this this cavity- so much of it and so prominent? this place I thought had gone- and has gone- was never filled, and still exists in liminal spaces of me. for sake of argument, I imagine myself, in hypothetical version- in parallel universe and you tangled, pulling, tilting wanting tracing starshapes into every bit of skin and synapse, yearning the map of you into memory endlessly it was always real and imagined, both; it only never came to be. and I know this exercise of thought-- the soft glancing light cast toward an event horizon... it shivers itself into me like a breath long held in lungs, forgotten. as if not my own, but shared. I rest on a singular certainty that somewhere in the quantum, maybe many many many versions we are

Literature

House of Midnight, Chapter One

Chapter One: “The Mansion Isn’t Haunted” It was twenty-four minutes until midnight when Jacob Morris mounted his old mountain-bike and pedaled from the garage out to the driveway. It was quiet, except for the droning of crickets and the rustling of fallen September leaves. But a restlessness seemed to hang in the air. On the gravel driveway, he paused to adjust the straps of the backpack on his shoulders. In it lay a Nikon point-and-shoot camera—which belonged to his parents, but they’d never guess it had gone missing. And just for tonight. In a few seconds he started forward again. He didn’t turn on the bike-light mounted to the center-point of his handlebars yet. He wouldn’t until well away from the Morris property. The full moon gave the world a surreal luminance, and Jacob—who had always had better night vision than most—wished it had been a little darker while still in sight of the farmhouse’s windows. His parents were asleep, like his sister and brother. Or at least, he thought

Literature

It will be worth it

I know it was hard It can be so difficult But you did it It’s always the worst Taking that first step Believe me I’ve been there If your still on that road Only to find this Then you can do it Don’t stop You’ll reach the finish line Even if it feel like your traveling the globe You will make it It can be such a struggle Like trotting through mud in a swamp Keep going You’ve come so far Now is not the the time to quit Think of what awaits you ahead of the stop That’s when you will feel like a true hero (For anyone who feel’s like it can be impossible to reach something do something great. I know, enjoy your mistakes. Sometimes it’s what makes you, you, yeah it’s not fun but hey it’s all part of that journey of doing your passion)

Suggested Deviants

MindIan

Literature

Template short #25: The hunter and the dream PT5

(Back at an underground laboratory, where you could hear a lot of machinery churning, the sounds of monstrous growls echo throughout the lab. Flasks are filled with unknown concoctions, beakers of all different sizes, the floor aligned with white tiles separated by black lines, and a space capable of holding 15 abandoned classrooms of a school. The scientist—Merlin—has made an extraordinary breakthrough at The Decider’s request. To Merlin, it is weird; it feels like he worked on over a thousand different experimental requests at the same time, as if somehow he was locked in a reality in which every experiment was being conducted simultaneously. As if no matter how slow or fast he would conduct these requests from The Decider, he was allowed an indefinite amount of time to complete them. However, to Merlin, it makes him wonder even more—how is this possible? What could be causing this change in his reality? Does The Decider himself know what is going on?) (One of the doors opens into

Literature

A Brain Running into Walls

Hello Fellow Peering eyes... yeah things are going a little slow on the story front... poor Serenu might have to wait a bit before his story gets worked on but hey at least he got a chance to comment on the nice beautiful places in Template. Soo... it's almost October WOOT my favorite month with my favorite holiday and let me tell you there are going to be a lot of interesting stories in October... I think. Hope you guys brought your Michael Myers masks or your Jason Vorhees hockey masks. Or... YOUR STORIES ABOUT MORTAL SUFFERING ENOUGH TO QUENCH THE HORNED MENS APETITE FOR MISERY. Oops sorry about that... kind of been acting weird lately after that strange dream I had a couple weeks ago... anyway stay tuned for more stories in the weird and amazing verse of TEMPLATE.

Literature

Temp short #5 The hunter and the dream part 1(BTM)

Year 2560, following the ascension of the Blind Ascender, on the planet Searth. Vertigo (narrating): This is the story of how I died. How my wife was taken from me. And maybe… how this guy—the Decider—can pull things out of thin air and claim he created them. It all started with one really strange dream. Decider: Wha—where... what am I seeing? (A strange, static-filled city flickers into view, filled with unmoving, unnatural figures.) Decider: This feels too real. It can’t be. No, no—I want out of this dream. (A large screen in the city lights up. A strange figure appears on it, accompanied by symbols in an unrecognizable dialect.) Decider: No. NO! I WANT OUT OF THIS DREAM—NOW! (A floating, static-like orb drifts toward him. He panics.) Decider: WHAT?! No—back! Shoo! NO, GET AWAY! (The orb slowly envelops his vision. The strange figure appears again, as if teleporting. Its hand stretches out toward him at a speed so fast it seems like it was always reaching for

oniricforge

Literature

one night?

Jorge was back outside in the desert—but this time, he carried things. He glanced at his bag: a single glass bottle and a pouch of clay. Nothing more. Still, he remembered his survival training from the army. The body itself—the intestines—always spoke: when to eat, when to rest, when to run. Now he would have to listen carefully. First, he sought the basics—water, food, shelter. Soon he found a thin trickle of a stream. The water looked pristine, though a strange moss grew along the edges. Jorge hesitated. Was it just moss… or something symbolic, like everything else in this place? Either way, he filled the bottle to the brim and sealed it with its cork. “Good. That’s at least one day’s worth of water, by my standards,” he muttered. He lifted his gaze upward. The sky was always the same—clouded, glowing. “Is there even a sun here?” he wondered aloud. “Day or night? Or does time itself not exist?” The questions piled up, gnawing at him. Damn extradimensional existence. Maybe that

Literature

The Fractones

Jorge stared at the group of amber stones scattered across the stone table. His hands trembled slightly as he reached toward them. "What in all hell? What is this?" Hong watched his brother Si-Chen with a "you see? We hit the target" expression— Jorge examined each stone, deaf to anything happening around him. His breathing grew shallow. He scrutinized the secret events hidden in the stones. Each one contained a memory of someone he knew—a real moment frozen in time, like insects trapped in ancient resin. One young man piled a pyramid of cabbages. The man had muscles, his torso bare, sweat glistening in the sun. An innocent, happy smile spread across his face as he watched the blue sky. His eyes held no knowledge of pain yet. 21 de Mayo. Look at yourself. . He was young and happy... we were all young and happy once. When had life become so complicated? When had happiness required more than a blue sky and honest work? Another stone showed a black-haired man opening his backpack

Literature

21 still

Far away, down the quebrada, the land sloped into a valley. “At least… that’s what I see,” said 21, pointing. “You see, Zhang? There’s water there. Rabbits too. We can rest, recover.” But Zhang saw nothing. He didn’t think it was his eyes—he believed it was mountain madness, and that the madness was now attacking 21. Still, he had no strength for arguments. Each step was already a battle, each breath a weight. If 21 was right, perhaps there would be rest. Yet the sky turned against them: clouds closed in, the temperature dropped, and a wind began to whip across the slopes. Worse still—wind heavy with snow. And yet 21 remained standing. Strange. But that had always been 21’s nature. As a child in the orphanage, when others died of lung disease, 21 endured. As a man, when others fell to cirrhosis, he endured. When old age came for the rest, 21 still endured. God had given him an iron body… but withheld understanding. He knew others were smarter—Zhang with his secret Chinese

CzarnyKon

Literature

Slipping Through My Fingers

It's when I finally take two steps forwards I manage to rapidly regress with ten steps back Unsuccessfulness seems to be couple steps ahead of me Lose faith in the idea that things will get better Slipping Through My Fingers - CzarnyKon 🐴

Literature

A Thing As Luck

One who chased the gleam of adventurous life Of glorious fortune , like a fevered dream Sought the stars in the night sky , a winning hand A twist of fate across thundering landscape Gambled with bucket list dreams to be happy Believing luck would favor their bucket of dreams Began to see the jagged signs & the whispered clues But often found them untrue & often painful Was it luck or just the dice that were thrown That led to this silent price that burns the skin Perhaps a skill that wasn't honed in on enough Or seeds of failure that was sown so deep - A fleeting chance that's a twist of fate's own hand Do fortunes rise on some unseen design that is just a dream Or just the skill to cleverly command the realization of their dreams The tools at hand that ultimately help bring out the shine - Here lies a question so deep & so true An echo in the evening dewy grass Is there such a thing as chance , luck or fate Or do we weave our threads & just wait In shadows cast by

Literature

Is There Any Left

Sometimes I sit there wondering Is there any hope left for humanity?? At the rate that this world is going, I am not sure anymore.... This world needs to wake up, & fight for their own humanity Is There Any Left - CzarnyKon 🐴

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Poetry

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Poetry and Stories

Literature

The Kwanzaa Song

Title: The Kwanzaa Song Angels! flying, in a snowy cake High John, whisking all to play Carillon bells, repressing each their folks sake! And prayers that none, are lone way Umoja in cuddles, a hot meal, and whiffs , of nog Make our Nia, the season sight Little lights, with dreams of, morrows log Proof our Kujichagulia, is right Imani, a nick's, made a stay Loaded some Ujamaa! plus Kuumba! from a sleigh And even each lonely child, will make a smile For our Ujima, let them know, we a while So I'm! offering, this simple phrase To kids from one, to ninety-two Although it's been said, many times, many ways Habari Gani, to you [Instrumental Interlude] So I'm! offering, this simple phrase To kids from one, to ninety-two Although it's been said, many times, many ways Habari Gani, to you from HDdeviant /Richard Murray

Literature

Fate(Sol Fu do know)

Title: Fate(Sol Fu do know) Pa and Ma! , somewhere is special [begin larger refrain] My heart flies!, to-make-that-new level Old arbor! all it's routines aren't, jazz From-the-old-nest-you-taught-me the truth I-want!-a-good-ruth My lady lover Over there, she waits for pleasure New arbor!, in it's true freedom, jazz! It-is-unique in pleasure A chocolate shadow , sweet home! And-if-we use good measure Our-children will not, need a tome! The sunlight, the glass kite ,old light [begin mini refrain] The-Sol Fu do know The sea, old blood be, ancient plea Grant our! tow We wee, make it be, rest easy Our-true-freedom is bo That is the hope, and if a nope Alls-fate Solfu know [end mini refrain] [end larger refrain] Mini Refrain [instrumental] [instrumental + scatting] Larger Refrain [instrumental + scatting] [acapella scatting] [instrumental + scatting] from HDdeviant /Richard Murray

Literature

Nursery Rhyme Collaboration 04

There was a little man, who saw a woman, tour And with a little stone, he bore a female, figure weather-made little change, he kept the female, bare Nothing not little else, he cared but female's, wear And, once a little man here, owned a female there Now! there is little else, but where some women stare Recall the little man, recall his little burr Recall the little stone, he flicked to charm her Collaboration between me @HDdeviant + @dellcartoons Request https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1260121903/5245048167 If you are interested in me creating a nursery rhyme for your graphic, put your illustration in the comment section. I will choose freely.

Literature

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Literature

Scarecrow Night

Greebo was sleeping. It was one of those standard feline activities that did not interfere with the flow of ions and other -ons through the multiverse.¹ His sleep, however, was at the same time a great relief for everything that walked, rolled, talked, sang, squeaked, or even occasionally fluttered in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, a not-very-clever cat meowed—only to be immediately silenced by his wiser brothers, whose reflexes were highly preventive.² If Greebo had been in the bean field that had sprung up surprisingly quickly around Lancre Castle, he would have been astonished. King Verence had decided to put a scarecrow there. By day, it hardly stood out: a pile of sticks clad in old rags and scraps of clothing no one would wear anymore.³ Usually, it didn’t even scare away flies, let alone sparrows (which were scarce in the bean field anyway, since they had no taste for such refined food). Beans attracted no one. The field was so saturated with everyday life—stomach aches

The Space Hotel - Damaged

Glitchcode2447

Published: Apr 9, 2020

531 Views

damaged drawingpencil originaldesign spaceship storytelling futuristicspaceship

Description

Launched from earth with other ships to be used as a Hotel in Space, being attacked after passing Jupiter it's new crew are heading back home, hoping not to have the ship fall apart too much before they get there.

Location: 5.3 AU from earth

Status: Undergoing Repairs

Mission: Return to Earth

Passengers: 2,758

This image was drawn for a book that I'm writing called The Free Floater: A UkP Side-story.

Image size

1440x834px 683.17 KB