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About Literature / Hobbyist William Doney II31/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
Mad Engineer's Gearbox
Thomas gazed over the landscape from his vantage point: the maintenance door of an old clock tower standing tall over the city. The hands of the tower pointed to the time of quarter past eleven in the flashing light of the eternal storm. The city itself was a dark, Victorian metropolis that stretched as far as the eye could see with modified Tesla towers, looking like thorns growing from tree bark scattered across the landscape. Above, the sky was filled with black clouds and lightning: a side effect of the wireless electricity the towers produced.
Thomas hadn't been in the clock tower for the view though. He was searching for his target, a power amplification facility. After finding the squat, three story building looking like an electrified hedgehog with its domed, spiked roof with arcs of electricity darting across it. After identifying his goal, he then studied the path towards it through the labyrinthine streets and alleyways below. After memorizing the trail he would take, he ste
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Literature
Fear of Madness
I seek to dream, to control my mind, yet when I dream I drift along. I begin to question the reality around me, and wonder if my mind's my own. Am I hallucinating, but unable to tell, because the only confirmations are those around me? Are those I speak with real themselves? Am I just dreaming my whole life? I say I feel helpless because I have no control, but in reality, I fear making all the wrong moves. If life is a dream, why doesn't it do what I wish? Or does it exist because I dream pain, and the pain sews the edges of reality together to keep the madman's mask from revealing his face, and like the mask, becomes the new face. I want to scream, but I fear. Is it the stares of others that I fear, or ignorance that answers my questions I fear? Why do I ask questions, when I fear the answer? Why do I avoid questions, for fear of the answer? Is pain joy, and joy pain, and are we simply mad, perpetually confusing the two? Do we fool ourselves, saying  that joy is one thing, a
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Literature
Ghost story
There was a young man who feared the darkness. Every night, he would look in the darkness, and see horrors in every area he couldn't see: behind doors, beyond the window, inside the closet. The beasts he saw would appear no matter what time of day, it was always where he knew the darkest darkness was. Every day got worse, and it mattered not if he was with others or not. One day, he met a friend, one who could see spirits. What she saw wasn't a simple ghost following him. The thing following him only barely looked human; it was made of blackness, and had red eyes. It was never human though, it was a demon. It had been following him for his entire life, trying to take his soul to increase its power. The only reason it was unable to was because it was kept at bay by a guardian spirit. However, the guardian spirit was having increasing trouble following the demon: the demon was hiding itself better and better. That night, after finding this out, the young man had gone to bed. As he was ab
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Literature
Mind
I look out, and see the sky, turning grey as the sun sets, sinking into the perfect black waters in the distance. Below my feet is ice, ranging from midnight blues, to pure white, making up the iceberg in the ocean I am drifting in. I stare at the glossy surface of the water, but it is too dark to even reflect my image. What I do see are shapes, the silhouettes of beasts. They never break the perfect still of the surface, but they continue to rise and fall, teasing the imagination with their enormous frames, inciting fear at the glimpses of their fangs and tentacles before drifting back into the darkness, where the light cannot reach them. I turn away, hoping that by ignoring them, my fear may dissipate, but when I look into the ice, what I see horrifies me just the same. Inside the ice, I see insects, digging in the cold, surrounding a monstrous creature whose maw snaps at the only barrier between me and it, climbing the walls of its crystalline prison, inch by inch. As I watch in hor
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Literature
Midnight
I wake in the night, the once colorful walls now a dark grey and shadows of the darkest black looking like holes in reality itself. In this monochrome box that is my room, I feel terrified. I can feel something in the gloom, something that moves freely from shadow to shadow, something horrifying. I am unable to see it, but I know it is there, watching me, smiling at my fear. It stops, a few feet short of my bed; I cannot close my eyes, fearing it will attack the second I look away from the darkness. I know not what it is, or what it wants. I only know it is something that makes beasts scurry away in fear, and monsters slink to their burrows. I continue my petrified stare, unable to blink, feeling the horror in the night. I stop staring when I feel it leave, when it seems to vanish, as if it was never there. I wonder if it was just my imagination, but the crawling under my skin tells me it will be back.
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Literature
Highway
I drive along the midnight highway, my headlights the only ones I see. I drive alone, but the seat beside me has another soul I feel. It does not speak, but waits in silence, content with just my company. The road is black, but it is not pure, as bloodstains become more frequent. I ponder what has bled and when, with deer being the easy answer, but still I wonder if all these stains are not from something different. I start to think that the one beside me knows if that's my destiny. As I glance to my side, I fear that a mistake's been made, and sure enough, in the darkness, the answer has abandoned me.
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Literature
Nightmare
I wander a strange landscape, monsters wandering in the distant nightfall. I choose to hide in an enormous, derelict tube, certain that it is safer than the dark wasteland. I am unable to rest, knowing what is outside, and I feel that something else hides with me, deep in the perfect blackness of the tube, and I wonder if I have merely traded one horrid fate for another. I hear dripping, but more than that, I hear breathing, barely audible. As it gets closer, my heart beats faster, I can't move, or even breath, paralyzed with fear. I make out movement in the darkness, and I want to run. As I see the vague outline of something beyond imagination, I awake. I do not feel relief however, as in every dark corner I see horrors waiting to attack. Eventually, I muster the courage to sleep once again, and enter, yet another, hell.
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Literature
Phobia
I approach the basement door, knowing that all that lies below are discarded objects and emptiness. However, what I see in my mind is a face. The ceramic face of a child, staring at me with empty eye sockets from the bottom of the stairwell, in the center of the blackness. What I sense behind the door in the darkness, is a monster, wearing the mask, a beast of claws and malice, one that knows only how to hunt and kill. It is a being of darkness, one that wants only to rend flesh and drink blood. I have yet to open the door, my heart telling me to stop. I finally ignore the warning, and twist the knob. I see no face, but I feel the beast. Near frantic, I flip the switch, and the darkness that housed horror is scattered, revealing what my memories told me was down there. As I glance around, seeing only forgotten toys and concrete, my mind tells me that there was nothing there. But in my heart, I feel it will be back, in every dark area, beyond every door and window at night. But what I k
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Literature
Better
None of us are better than anybody else. Some of us are raised to think that there is somebody or something better than us, someone or something that did everything that we owe our existence to. But what makes such a thing better than us? If you are about to fall off a building, and somebody saves you, is that person automatically better than you? Many believe that a "God" is perfect, and that makes him better than us. If god is perfect, than how come his most famous creation, life, is so flawed? The train of thought that led to it most likely went something like this:
"I'll create plants! They won't fight and won't hate! It'll be perfect! Oh no! The plants keep growing too much, and now smaller plants can't get the sunlight they need to live! I'll create herbivores to help eat plants so that the there won't be too many to blot out the sun! Oh no! There are too many herbivores and now all the plants will get eaten! I know! I'll make carnivores to eat the herbivores! Crap! Now all the h
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Snow Worm by Psychlcyan Snow Worm :iconpsychlcyan:Psychlcyan 1 0 Town Shot by Psychlcyan Town Shot :iconpsychlcyan:Psychlcyan 1 2 Loki Sketch by Psychlcyan Loki Sketch :iconpsychlcyan:Psychlcyan 0 0
Literature
Two Souls
I have two souls. I heard this from a wind sprit through an Ouija board, but it never explained beyond that. It said both are mine, but never explained how that could be. Did the soul come from a demon, one that failed to possess me, and lost its soul to me in the process? Or is it my opposite, to keep me balanced. Or maybe, I got it from a spirit that tried to aid me, only to be consumed. Maybe it is preparation, in case I need to sell a soul in order to do something great. I know little about this extra soul, and silence has caused me to doubt it. Maybe more people have multiple souls than they know, and it is more akin to a sixth toe. All I know is that a spirit of the air told me that I have two souls, and that I'm not insane.
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My twisted Valentine by Psychlcyan My twisted Valentine :iconpsychlcyan:Psychlcyan 0 2
Literature
Happy Valentine's day
Valentine's day. The time of the year where happiness can be found on every street corner and where the love in the air can be felt by the swelling in your chest and the rising, giddy sensation in your belly. The day where you can make your loved ones feel special, and where you can do what you can to make everybody feel loved and happy, without looking crazy…er. It is a day where hearts can be found adorning walls, and where a surprise kiss or hug can instantly lift the mood of even the most dour of souls. If only the day would never end, then this feeling of joy may stay with me forever.
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Literature
Angry Valentine's day writing
Valentine's day. A day where it is expected to hug and kiss and love each other while adorning the walls with the colors of a person's insides and displaying a muscle who's only purpose is to move blood. A holiday that is loved by many and reviled by many. A day that can mean hope for deep companionship, or heartbreak. Why do we need a specified day for such things, is it to intensify people's feelings for one another, or can that same feeling be found any other day, where the pressure doesn't make the lonely feel like ending everything. On this day, there are two main groups of people, those that love the day, and those that hate it. I believe it is obvious what group this person falls into.
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Working on another new story. Once I have the first chapter typed up I will show it on here, and and the site Worthyofpublishing.com. For once, I actually have most of it thought of, including the name. It will be called "Mad Engineers Gearbox" and, suffice it to say it will be a bit more complex than what I've already written. As for the setting, I think I created my own kind of genre. I call it TeslaPunk if it hasn't already gotten a name. Read the story and you might see why.

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William Doney II
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am just a strange person surviving in normaland using his own madness to get by. I originally started writing as a form of management to keep control of my emotions, and have since then made attempts to refine it into something presentable. Any questions can be sent to my email if you would like. It is william.201544@yahoo.com

Current Residence: Orange City, FL
Favorite genre of music: Rock, Classical
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: PSP
Skin of choice: Mine
Personal Quote: It's only crazy/impossible because some guy said it was and everybody believed him.
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