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Literature
A Dream in the Desert
They had lost everything in the fire.
The wreckage lay behind them, sending off the occasional flare of smoke and light whenever the fire stumbled across another canister of fuel. As soon as they'd crawled to safety, Aidan had remarked that, at the very least, they still had their lives.
"Will that be enough?" Finn muttered to himself now, dragging his eyes away from the crumpled remains of their ship. For a second, he let his eyes skim near the sun. It sagged above their heads, groaning as it struggled to pull its heavy, swollen mass toward the horizon. Here, below, the planet could do little but succumb to its light—white and scathing, like holy fire.
In front of him, Aidan stumbled through the sand, struggling to navigate the slope of the dune as he patched the worst of the holes in his biosuit. Finn hurriedly did the same, peeling off the hood of his suit and trying not to wince as the rubbery material pulled on his skin. With aching slowness, he tore it into thin strips and t
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Literature
Tidbits II
LXXXVII. hunger.
"Grey, I'm hungry."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am. Very, very."
Grey sighed, then coughed as a cloud of dust filled his lungs. It was almost nightfall, and a windstorm was beginning to kick up over the steppes. Grey angrily waved some of the dust out of his face, to little effect. "I don't believe you. You just ate an entire person."
Gimble pouted. "That was a long time ago."
"A day and a half."
"That's like seven years in Gimble time!"
"So, you're a dog now?"
"No." Gimble crossed a stubby pair of limbs. "I am a Gimble. A very very hungry Gimble."
"Oh yeah, that's right. 'Gimble' is another word for 'walking bottomless pit'."
"I never knew that!"
"Sure. And 'Grey' is another word for 'annoyed as hell and functioning off a few cans of old biscuits'."
Gimble stopped walking so he could scratch the top of his head. "Huh. So, are you…"
Grey spat out a mouthful of dust. "Yeah. I'm very 'Grey' right now."
"Oh. Well, my friend," Gimble said kindly, patt
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Literature
we drift endlessly
At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
—Zephaniah 3:20

The planet bends beneath us, curved under the weight of such an impossibly blue sky. The horizon has just become another line, a divide we will never reach, out here at sea. Far more important are the folds in your palm that so perfectly match mine, the creases by your eyes that catch the sunlight. The curve of your mouth that tells me, ever so gently, that everything will be all right. We sail, cloth unfurled, listening to forgotten sirens humming duets with the wind. I'm not sure what we're following, whether it's the sirens' song, or the line of the horizon tugging us farther and farther from shore. We have no compass, no map to lead us safely back to that rocky cove. We're lost, but I'm not worried. We can be lost for a while.
~~~
The boat creaks and settles into the water, sighing as the familiar waves lap against its edges. Fog rolls in from the sea, over the land and to that little la
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Literature
G and G: Kidnapped -Part 2-
Gimble cackled madly. The hovercar began to drift left as Nick sat motionless in the driver's seat, watching Gimble's limbs snake towards his neck.
Just when the boy opened his mouth to scream, Grey leapt forward and pulled the shapeling away. "What is wrong with you?" Grey said between clenched teeth. Gimble just cackled again, flailing his limbs around and struggling to escape from Grey's hold.
"Tasty! Tasty!" Gimble shouted in a low, gravelly voice.
Nick tried, in vain, to scoot farther away from the homicidal passenger in the back seat. "Just throw it off!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "It's gonna kill us both!"
With a great deal of effort, Grey pulled Gimble's head down near his own. "You hear that, Gimble? If you don't behave, I might do what he says."
Instead of calming him down, Gimble thrashed even harder. With a cry of triumph, Gimble finally broke free of Grey and lunged over the back of Nick's seat. "No! I'm in charge always," Gimble told them, "You go where I say.
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Literature
G and G: Kidnapped -Part 1-
"Grey, I'm hungry."
Gimble watched his human companion for some sort of reaction, but it was no use. Grey strode ahead, his mouth set in a grim, determined line. Dust blew up in reddish billows around his feet, and that was as high as the land seemed to get around here. The ground stretched on endlessly, red and flat like a table for giants. Nothing, not even a single stray, hopeless tuft of moss, dared to break up the monotony. So, of course, the chance of the two travelers being able to find food was close to nil.
Never one to yield to reason, Gimble tried again. "Grey. I'm huuuungry," he moaned, clutching his stomach and wobbling back and forth.
"And whose fault is that?" Grey finally snapped.
Gimble blinked. "I dunno. Besides, that doesn't change the fact that I'm hu—"
Grey stalked up to him, sticking his face level to Gimble's. "Who tried to feed that whopping narfhog?"
"Me, but that's not—"
"Who dropped my pack down that ravine?"
"We got most of it back out again
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Literature
Grey and Gimble: Way Up High
It was still raining.
Grey sidestepped around a puddle that was large enough to be a lake. The whisker-palms grew thicker around here, dragging hairy limbs through the mud, not to mention through Grey's soaked hair. They were all Grey could see for miles. That, and the impenetrable rain.
And Gimble, of course.
The shapeling was humming noisily to himself, wading through the puddles like he barely even noticed them. Grey wasn't sure what song it was, and he honestly didn't care. Every so often some half-remembered lyrics would drift by, about kaleidoscopes or weeping guitars. Grey was almost entirely certain that Gimble had made them up.
"Hey, you should try this, Grey! It's fun!"
Bored with the puddles, Gimble had climbed a whisker-palm and was swinging from the tendril-like branches as if he was some gelatinous, grinning form of primate. Grey stared up at him, briefly allowing a disgusted look to cross his face before he turned away with a sigh.
"Aw, Grey, it really is fun. Look what
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Literature
How the Fairytale Ends
I remember lying in the dark the night after we killed the troll. My bandaged side hurt like hell, and I thought maybe the arrow the monster had used had been poisoned. I shivered at the thought and pulled my cloak farther up to my chin. This left my feet, bare, of course, so I sighed heavily as I tried to bend down and cover them again. I had barely moved before he was there, pushing me back down gently and settling his own cloak over me.
"Idiot," I heard him mutter.
I fell asleep with a grin on my weary face.
That I can remember clearly, though it seems so long ago now.
This journey of the king's faithful young knight and a starry-eyed tomboy started months even before then, in the days when we were still infected with those twin diseases, stupidity and recklessness. Others called it youth and bravery. I've discovered there's very little difference, really.
Either way, here we are now, on the cusp of victory. Soon, our trial will be over. It's what he always wanted.
I glance to my si
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Literature
Ode to Bonnie and Clyde
They were coming for us. I held her hand and felt her lean her head on my shoulder. On her lap sat Fire, waiting patiently for the end. It gleamed in the half-light of the room, silver like the streak that had just appeared in her hair, cold and untouchable like the heart beating in her chest. No, that wasn't true. She loved some things; trains sliding through the desert, the city at night, the cold weight of coins and the smell of tobacco mixed with gunpowder. And me. That alone was a miracle that amazed me every second we still managed to draw breath.
I sighed and drew her closer to me. Though her eyes were closed, I could feel how tense she was, her shoulders tight and her hand resolute around mine. Perhaps Lightning trembled just slightly in my grip, but it was probably from the electricity that crackled in the room like one of Tesla's mad experiments. We were lab rats, and men in white coats chuckled as they watched us run in a maze as long as the world and with only one exit.
No.
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Literature
G and G: Bridging the Gap
Grey let out a long-suffering sigh, wincing as the rain slipped in his jacket and traced an icy line down his back. His brown hair clung to his forehead and dropped a steady succession of water into his scowling face. Between the constant barrage of water and the clouds that sagged like drab clumps in the air, Grey could barely see anything at all. This was probably for the best, as the landscape consisted of a sad collection of drooping whisker-palms and not much else, but it did little to improve his mood.
"I hate rain," he grumbled for the twentieth time that day.
"Aww, cheer up Grey," Gimble burbled. "I think it's kind of fun."
Over the course of the day, Gimble had practiced creating various shelves of gooey flesh down the length of his body. The rain cascaded down them like some sort of grotesque water sculpture. These dozen or so miniature waterfalls combined into a massive crescendo of fleshy splashing noises, making Grey fervently wish that his hearing was impaired instead of
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Literature
Grey and Gimble: Old Flames
"Grey, can I ask a question?"
Grey snorted. Gimble took this as an answer in the affirmative.
"Where are we going?"
Grey looked as if he might not answer for a moment. "You've already asked that question," he eventually muttered.
"I did?" Gimble scratched his triple chin. "Well, I forgot what you said. I don't think I'm that good at remembering."
"I said it's not important. And it isn't, so stop bothering me about it."
"Okay."
Gimble stared around, examining his surroundings now that his current crisis was over. They had left the grass swamp a few days ago, and were now in a plain of low, rolling hills. Every bump and dip in the landscape seemed to be perfectly shaped, like vast ripples in the earth. The ground was a bit drier than it had been in the swamp, but it still sagged beneath their footsteps, making the journey more tiring than usual. Gimble was very tired, in fact, but he knew better than to tell Grey. That really hadn't worked, the last sixty-seven times he'd tried.
G
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Literature
Grey and Gimble: Abandoned
"Are they still after us?" Gimble glanced back, which for him meant that a new pair of eyes formed on the back of his blobby head.
"We're out of their territory," Grey panted.
"Oh good." Gimble stopped running and sucked in huge lung-fulls of breath.
"Idiot! Don't stop running! That just means they're going to—" Grey was cut off by a crude grass-arrow that thwipped past Grey's left ear and splashed into the ankle-deep water. More swiftly followed, thudding into the enormous stalks of grass that sprouted from the murky swamp, flitting past Gimble's astonished face, and splashing unnervingly nearby considering how far away the bowmen were.
Gimble didn't move for several precious moments, staring at the arrow embedded in a stalk of grass mere centimeters from his face.
"What are you doing? Run!" Grey was already sprinting away. Without warning he yelled in pain, and moments later tripped on a black oil-like slick floating on the water's surface. He landed with a pathetic splash and l
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Literature
Searching for the Sun
I.
The day everything ended, she was standing in a parking lot, weary from a long day of departures and destinations, staring up at the sky. Clouds strolled west, their armfuls of grey dripping out of their grasp and spattering onto the asphalt, onto her upturned face. They rolled and crashed into one another, piling up high in the stratosphere like mountains of cottony stone. Once, they had been at war, and their arguments had sliced across the countryside with the recklessness of a summer fire. Now, though, something had calmed them. Perhaps they were tired from their travel like her, or perhaps it was the sun, gently wedging them apart with scalding fingers. Its light had almost gotten lost behind the celestial battle, but soon grey faded to white, white flashed gold, and the sun finally reached down to where she stood, there next to her father, on the last day he remembers before everything ended.
II.
It was hard for her to imagine now, how she could have gotten lost so easily thos
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Literature
Grey and Gimble: In the Dark
Night fell slowly out here, sluggishly descending into a dreamlike gloom with the reluctance of a drunkard. The yellow sky gave one last flash of gold before fading to brown, and finally a relentless, all-consuming black. The sounds of the daylight—squeaking, sucking, and splashing—were replaced with the soft silence of night. It was quieter out here, but no less awake; rather, the landscape seemed to be covered with the creeping stillness of those who watch, and wait.
That stillness was broken by the cry of a man in torment.
"Gimble, will you stop that?"
Gimble snapped his arms back to his sides and grinned at the man innocently.
"Stop what, Gyre?"
"Digging around in my pack like that. What do you want, anyway?"
"I dunno." He stretched his neck to unnatural proportions and craned his head around to peer at the pack with wide, curious eyes. "What's in there?"
"Nothing," he muttered. "Stuff."
"Those aren't the same thing," Gimble said with evident confusion as an append
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Literature
My Sara
If anyone survives the world's ending, I only want them to hear the truth. I know, if there is any history after this is over, she will not be remembered fondly. I cannot blame them. They didn't know her as I did.
The moment we entered the world, we were engaged, tied to one another body and soul. We grew up together on the castle grounds, exploring, laughing, getting into trouble, just as all children do. My Sara had an all-consuming love of science, and of discovering the inner machinery of the world. She would take me through the castle courtyard, and show me the delicate spider-webs covered with dew, and the lacey wings she had plucked from a great fat bumblebee. Finches would build nests in the trees, and my Sara would carefully break open their eggs to examine the stages of the chicks' development. Many people would be pained to destroy innocent life for something as apparently trivial as knowledge for its own sake, but not my Sara. She looked beyond a single, pitiful life in sea
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Literature
The Scientist
I want to fall in love softly. Slowly, unexpectedly, irrevocably. I want him to blush when he first meets my eyes, until one day he becomes brave enough to hold my hand. I want him to tell me I'm beautiful and actually mean it. I want him to be my best friend who will laugh when I laugh, cry when I cry, breathe when I breathe. I want him to chase after me without me even realizing it, and I want to know that I love him back when we're sitting in a café, sipping Italian sodas and talking about nothing, and everything. And when it happens I want it to seem inevitable, wonderfully unavoidable, like it had always been there but I had just been too blind to see it.
That's how I wish I could fall in love. I wish that was how it really happened, but I've seen enough to know the truth. He'll think I'm a little quiet and awkward, but he hasn't been on a date in a while so he'll humor me. I'll blush and stumble over my words and order spaghetti only to realize that I can't eat it without ma
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Keep Walking by scarletbird Keep Walking :iconscarletbird:scarletbird 9 16

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Daily Literature Deviations for November 7th, 2012
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my very first feature, see?
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fondest thanks to the-photographicpoet & BeccaJS for my second DD, on leavetaking. yesterday morning, this was me: :faint:
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deviantID

scarletbird

Artist | Student | Literature
United States
I write on the backs of page-a-day calendars. I read upside-down until the words seem right-side up. I sing when I think no one's listening, and hum even when they are. I wish that the words I wrote were pretty or clever, and live believing that someday they will be.
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:iconladyofgaerdon:
LadyofGaerdon Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2013  Professional Writer
I am here to write you a review, as :iconkathrynodriscoll: is hosting a Review Competition:

~scarletbird's work sets the bar high for her literature community peers. She demonstrates absolute mastery of the craft of writing - every word seems placed with surety. Her work is clear, strong and always achieves technical perfection. In addition, her vivid description and emotion-laced imagery make her work shine as an inspiration to all who encounter it.

writing is so strong and clear - simply reading her vivid prose is enough to inspire her lit community peers to improve. With her absolute mastery of the craft, she sets the bar high for us all."
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:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2013  Student Writer
:blushes: I'm not quite sure what to say except... goodness, thank you. I'll do my best to live up to it.

oh and good luck in the contest!
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:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2012   General Artist
Happy Birthday! :la:
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:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2012  Student Writer
Thank you! :icondummylaplz:
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:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2012   General Artist
Hope you had an awesome one! :meow:
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:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2012   General Artist
Hello there, lovely person! :wave:

You've just been featured in my journal: [link] :heart:

It would mean the world to me if you could the article and maybe even find some pieces worth faving as well? :eager:

Thank you so very for your time :la:
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:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2012  Student Writer
Thanks for the feature! :heart:
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:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2012   General Artist
You are most definitely welcome, dear one! >:D<
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:iconvespera:
vespera Featured By Owner May 1, 2012  Professional Writer
Congradulations on your DD... if you plan to be writing more about your family, I suggest #To-Our-Family as a place for your work :rose:
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:iconscarletbird:
scarletbird Featured By Owner May 3, 2012  Student Writer
Thanks! I'll be sure to check it out. :)
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