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Literature
What Goes Down... - Chapter 2
"By order of the High King, this village and all who dwell within are named subject to purgation, to prevent the further spread of blight in the kingdom!"
A great agonized moan went up from the crowd. There was wailing and lamentation, and far less shouts of anger and disagreement than there should have been. More people should have cried out, spoken up against what they were hearing, but for whatever reason the small village put up surprisingly little fight against its death sentence. Perhaps it was the intimidating presence of the steel-clad knights and their warhorses, or perhaps the imposing, authoritative words of the royal edict itself, but there it was: Varlen had been named as yet another small town that had to be wiped out as an effort to stem the growing blight of disease and perversion that had been sweeping the land.
There were no two ways about it. The dead, who were expected by society, and therefore obligated, to remain peacefully in the ground after burial, had been cla
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Literature
What Goes Down...
Rainstorms are not unusual, and storms in general are merely a sign of changing weather patterns, not a harbinger of misfortune and peril. At least under normal circumstances, anyway: the storm that had whirled itself into existence over the valley of Barrow Hill was a thing unto itself, which raged and spat and expended as much energy as it possibly could being loud and destructive. Top-heavy trees began to crack and fall to the ground in the forests, and in the small town surrounded by trees the roofs were losing shingles at an alarming rate.
God Himself has come to the Valley to punish me.
He ran from the cottage, a small bundle of rags under one arm. The wind and rain howled far too loudly for anyone to hear the man were he to speak aloud, or the bundle under his arm were its passenger to rouse itself from stunned silence.
Mercy upon me… I am not to blame for this.
The cottage's windows flickered as the lantern, still waiting on the table inside the cottage, gutt
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Literature
Oh, Broken World
I look upon this broken world,
So hateful is the day,
That we were brought to fall, and hurled
From light to shades of gray.
No love, no hope, no light, and thus,
As all who know can say,
That if we ever truly live,
It’s quick to go away.
So seek and grasp, chase after love,
And earn your blissful day,
For life will be along quite quick
To whisk your joys away.
Too short is life, too great is pain,
So quickly goodness fades,
But we must never cease to strive
In hope it someday stays.
But were this world, of pain and sorrow,
To burn and blow away,
And leave no hope, and no tomorrow,
“Good riddance,” would I say.
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Literature
Champions of Light 0 -ROUGH-
The paladin was shaking as he made a frantic grab for his sword. It had been lost somewhere below the ankle-deep water during the first moments of the battle, and he knew without it there was almost no chance he could win. The wraith would be upon him in seconds. As he grasped a rock and cast it aside underwater, still trying to find his sword, he rued the day he’d been appointed this task. Even for the Church, there were limits. Fighting vampires was definitely not something he enjoyed.
Without his blade, he would have to use his bare hands to defend himself. Considering the stagnant water of the catacombs would probably set his armor rusting in minutes, and was already seeping into his boots, his armor wasn’t going to offer him much protection. Before he could think of a way to fight without his sword, the creature was upon him, hissing and grabbing for him.
Vampires were some of the most disgusting, vile creatures on the planet. Universally hated and reviled by the Church,
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Literature
All the Points
Triple word, double letter
crappy scores but getting better
if she'd just get buzzed enough
winning wouldn't be so tough.
Talking, laughing, drinks distracting
us from any timely acting.
Tiles moving, pay attention
to the words you shouldn't mention
she should win a damn award
for being Duchess of the Board.
A word's worthless without a letter,
my pretension I unfetter,
all of my vocabulary
might not help me win - how scary.
Hesitance now in remission,
not to lose, now that's my mission
as I spot the perfect word
and set it down - I'll show that bird.
Victory! At last I've done it,
it's about time that I won it,
this should even out the score
until next week, when we play more.
Finally I can rejoice,
I won the game with all the points,
for tonight, enjoy my win -
'cause next week I'll just lose again.
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Literature
Lemon
crisp, clean
lemon's mean
tanginess assaults the senses
lowering the tongue's defenses
if smell were bright and essence shone
this blinding light could char the bone
of lemon, there's not much to say
it's simply always been this way.
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Paintinator Field Test 815 by kpibca Paintinator Field Test 815 :iconkpibca:kpibca 0 0
Literature
Monster Island
The earth shakes at their step, even the ground cringes in fear!
The trees collapse into splinters, crushed by the tails of ancient powers.
On either side of the river they stand, these titans
poised and ready to fight to the death.
One on all fours, his back decorated with spines,
he bellows an echoing challenge to the other,
a massive spider.
The pause before the battle, a tensing of muscles,
an inhalation of breath. Then a bellowing cry
as the titan with spikes and fangs lunges forward.
Rolling, tumbling in a flying tackle, his foe loses its balance
her spindly legs tangle and flail as they plummet into the river.
A terrible silence.
A terrible noise.
A terrible silence.
The titan of spikes and horns emerges from the water, yellow ichor dripping from his teeth.
The four-legged monster lumbers back into the jungle,
the earthquakes finally stop when he lays down to rest.
Bubbles rise to the surface of the river, but his arachnid foe never surfaces.
One less monster on the island.
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Literature
Heart of Paper, Blood of Ink
I put my heart on paper and I sent it to the world,
With a prayer that those who found it would have mental wings unfurl'd.
I used my blood to mix the ink – the purest kind there is,
Then the whole world knew for certain that I meant just what I did.
Was I born so I could share my thoughts with everyone I met?
Or am I here for reasons I can't understand just yet?
Do I write because I love the words, or because words love me?
If there's any kind of difference, it's not one that I can see.
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Literature
Of Birds and Glass
The Son
I feel it pressing upon me, looming over my shoulder, hiding the world even from the corners of my eyes, where I see it best. It stalks me like a lion, mockingly, with little interest in the kill when it has such a fine chase to enjoy.
It is one of the many, many days during which I am conscious of the darkness, coming to press viciously against my shoulders. Once in a while this happens: I realize there are no signs, no codes, but at the same time I know that even if they aren't there, I see them. Knowing I can never escape but being aware of the darkness is so much more painful than simply being lost in that twisted world.
There is a bird's nest outside my window, in a tree. A limb of the tree extends past my window and on occasion I wonder if it could support my weight. Today, though, I see a white cat, fat and proud with a silky collar and beautiful fur, creeping to the nest. The mother bird has gone to look for food, so the cat is free to hunt for the joy of torment, ju
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Literature
John and Mary Die
For this creative writing exercise, I had to rewrite a scene from a piece I'd read in a previous class session. It concerns Mary and John, who are in an unhealthy relationship that culminates in Mary's suicide in an attempt to get John to notice her. I chose to write from the point of view of one of Mary's friends, and then had to write the story from another point of view. The end result was two pieces that fit together in a really fun way and made me really proud of myself. I hope you enjoy this, and you should definitely look for Happy Endings by Margaret Atwood to get the full context of my writing here. Here goes...
===
Mary never listens to me - or she never listens to the important things. When we tell her how awful John is she just blushes and looks away, making excuses for him. Her attention comes back when we discuss food, or celebrities, or anything other than her so-called lover. Listen to me, I want to tell her, he's not good enough for you. He doesn't unders
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granted
i have previously made note
perhaps whenever possible
of the look of your face
much resembling
a hobgoblin's
and your smell which lingers
long after you leave
the room
but now i see you
in a different light
the flaky texture
of your sallow skin
your breath which smells
of rotting eggs
the tangled weeds
of your hair
in which many
i am sure
have lost fingers
burned away in places
by the mysterious liquid which coats it
i know i'm sleeping
with your brother
but oh, he cannot compare
he makes me dinner
and irons my socks
he is pleasant to be near
and not once has threatened
to shiv me
can't you see
that there is no one like you?
though perhaps
this is for the best
will you not cast
a glance my way?
with your eyes
the conduit of your
voodoo
like that of a
nocturnal tree dwelling creature
perhaps a tarsier
in the face of a non-tarsier
i know you hate
all living things
and would gladly make
small pies
from their flesh
perfect for eating
on the go
but frankly i think
that's pretty hot
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Nathan Sharp
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm interested in things. I'm not a real doctor.
I write and I live in Seattle. I am also a dinosaur. All of these sentences are true. Two of these sentences may be false.
Interests
So I guess I'm back or whatever?

I dunno. I've been working on a new project of sorts (if you can call crossdressing and then taking pictures of it a project) and I figure dA is as good a place as any to act as storage. So here we are. Enjoy and such.
  • Listening to: Rize of the Fenix - Tenacious D
  • Playing: Diablo III (Mac)

Friends

:icontranslucidcomic: :iconwar-torn-works: :iconchii-101: :iconmasterpatch: :iconredorcamoon: :iconsedge: :iconsister-ray: :icontorreykat: :iconpuelladei: :iconbunnyfishmel-mel: :icondizzyhellfire: :iconjrspaniel: :iconnashida:

Comments


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:iconjoethegrim:
JoetheGrim Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I don't know if you've noticed, but the April Fools joke this year on dA is a 'dating/matchmaking' algorithm that's supposed to find your dream match/soul-mate on dA.

After giving it a few runs (a few dozen or so) it always showed your profile as my 'perfect' match (despite the fact that I had tried various combinations of gender/preferences/age and everything else :) ).

I'm taking this a sign that we would be good friends if we were to actually know each other. :D

So, yeah; Hi, I'm Joe, and while I may not be interested in romantic relationship with you, I would like to be friends; don't worry it's not you, it's me... :D
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:iconarsenaltxgear:
arsenalTXgear Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
very neat story :)
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:iconteamgirl-differel:
TeamGirl-Differel Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2009  Professional Interface Designer
Thanks for visiting!
Reply
:iconchii-101:
Chii-101 Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2009   Traditional Artist
Damnit Nate, I suck at writing compared to you.
Reply
:iconkpibca:
kpibca Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
That makes me sad! I'm sure you're good at writing. And your pencil drawings are awesome!
Reply
:iconchii-101:
Chii-101 Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2009   Traditional Artist
Thank you for that! ^^
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