To say the dream had put him in a foul mood would be an understatement. The antique alarm clock forced out one last dying ring before it was crushed for the umpteenth -- and last -- time beneath Sarge's tire. The Jeep eyed it through heavily lidded, groggy eyes.
"Piece of shit," Sarge muttered, sweeping it into the trash with a wheel. It mirrored how he felt about himself sometimes: out of date, loud, and on the way out.
He rose and stretched, his axles and frame creaking back to life. With a heavy sigh he headed out into the main room of his hut and cracked open the fridge. Was seven AM too early for a beer? Like hell it was. He grabbed on
The next morning was the warmest so far that year.
Ramon awoke to the sensation of sunlight beating pleasantly against his eyelids. He rolled over away from the glare, and swung his legs over the side of the bed before opening his eyes and standing. For a brief moment he looked around the small room, confused, before remembering that he had spent the night in a small room for rent in the village. It was the first time he had slept somewhere other than his room in the castle in his memory.
Taking the small wooden chair placed for his convenience next to the bed, he pushed it close to the window, c
Weeks passed, and winter got worse before it got better. February showed no signs of the oncoming spring as snow fell thickly over the castle grounds and the surrounding countryside, blanketing the world in white. Most of the people in the local village were confined to their homes, huddling around the fire and living off what they had hunted and farmed the previous summer.
No one had been particularly bothered by the arrival of Osmund Saddler. Those living the the predominantly Spanish speaking village heard very little of the outside world, and liked it that way, but there was something trustworthy about the priest, something that seemed s
It was a particularly bitter winter, and all love for life seemed removed from the castle grounds. In the small courtyard, the ornate fountain did little to add any beauty to the scene. Browned, pale grass grasped at the stone like bony fingers, and even the hoarsely croaking ravens on the bare tree limbs appeared chilled to the core. The sky was a pale grey, and had been for weeks.
The only splotch of colour in the desolate courtyard was the washed and pressed blue of the young boy's shirt. The castle doors shut behind him with a low rumble, and he ran down the stone stairs, his hazel eyes searching and a smile warming his delicate features
The forest reeked with the stench of something new. Something that didn't belong.
Moro lifted her muzzle and breathed deeply, separating the odour from the rest of the scents of her home. It brought back to her memories of the brown beetles. The parasites had infested her forest and killed many of the magnificent trees, some older than the wolf god herself, and had left ruin and devastation. Voices and memories thousands of years old had been silenced. The danger had passed decades ago, and where the old trees had fallen new ones were taking their places, but this new scent stirred the memories.
The great wolf rose, heavier than two bull el
So, it's been five years since the original Cars came out. It's no secret I'm a huge fan of the first, and initially I was confident Pixar would do the sequel justice. After all, Toy story 2 and 3 were great films, and even Pixar's weaker movies are better than the average animated flic (though Dreamworks is really catching up, but that's a major derail). I started to grow skeptical when I saw the plot synopsis, and even more skeptical when the reviews at Rotten Tomatoes started to tally up. Cars 2 is currently at 34%, giving it a very clear rotten rating and making it the worst reviewed Pixar film yet. Even so, I had to see it, if only
I've been tagged! But I'm not tagging anyone, because I don't know many people on DeviantArt other than the people who have already been tagged.
1. You must post these rules
2. Each tagged person must list 8 things about themselves in their journal
3. At the end you must list 8 people and their icons of who you want to tag
4. Go to their pages and send them a message that you've tagged them
5. No tag backs!
Eight things about me:
1. My eyes are two different colours.
2. My pinky fingers are bent inward at a sharp angle, making it difficult for me to do delicate things like use a pencil or chopsticks. I inherited this from my
Still waiting for your apology after you so cruelly turned your back on me after all I've done for you.
You decide that ONE stupid little mistake I made outweighs everything I have ever done for you over the years. It simply amazes me how you could take probably 10-15 minutes to write me that long-winded rant about how I "dehumanized" you JUST for liking a stupid Facebook post, yet you couldn't take ONE minute to simply let me explain that I thought the word "tranny" meant transvestite, NOT transgender. THAT was the joke I thought I was laughing at. But no, you just had to chew me out over it and then block me like a coward without giving me the chance to explain myself.
If anyone isn't capable of being a real friend here, it's YOU. You let your relatives talk shit about you ALL THE TIME - yes, you do, you told me so - and you still associate with them without any obligation to do so, and yet I'M the bad guy for liking a Facebook post that made a stupid joke that, for the millionth time, I MISUNDERSTOOD.
Someday you will get what's coming to you for being such a heartless bastard to the ONE person who was always there for you.
Thanks for the welcome. Yeah, real life has a way of taking over, doesn't it? Alas I don't have the time or motivation to do much art or fanfic writing, though I can still be persuaded to roleplay sometimes.