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DreamState, Part 1: Dreams
DreamState, Part One: Prologue

Fifteen Dollars and Twenty-seven Cents

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Fifteen Dollars and Twenty-seven Cents

The sun was just setting when Corra saw the bright lights. Even before she had to wait for the train to pass and then cross the tracks themselves, she knew it was a circus. That word… she knew what it was. It caused something warm to spread in her cold and empty chest - what was it? Ah, yes. The warmth of joy and excitement. Circuses were a place she had been to before she lost her memory, before she had woken in an empty house with an empty head. The memory came slow to her, through the fog of time, as she stood before the entrance. The large and rough hand of a man next to her is wrapped around her smaller, softer one. Instinctively

Forgetting Noah: The Dream

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Forgetting Noah: The Dream

The sun was just setting when Corra saw the bright lights. Even before she had to wait for the train to pass and then cross the tracks themselves, she knew it was a circus. That word… she knew what it was. It caused something warm to spread in her cold and empty chest - what was it? Ah, yes. The warmth of joy and excitement. Circuses were a place she had been to before she lost her memory, before she had woken in an empty house with an empty head. The memory came slow to her, through the fog of time, as she stood before the entrance. The large and rough hand of a man next to her is wrapped around her smaller, softer one. Instinctively

A Night Mare and a Skeleton

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A Night Mare and a Skeleton

The candle light in my hand flickers, dancing in the wind from my breath, or maybe it’s the breeze that makes the house creak and goose bumps crawl in waves across my skin like an invading army. I want to rub my arms, but it takes one hand to hold the small candle and another to push open the rotting wooden doors that crumble under my fingertips. The house seems to shrink away from my entrance, as though a hostile presence does not want me here, does not want anyone here. With a whisper, the breeze blows past me and my candle flickers and dies, leaving me in heavy, angry darkness. I want to retrace my steps, but something tells me to st
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Fifteen Dollars and Twenty-seven Cents

F

Fifteen Dollars and Twenty-seven Cents

The sun was just setting when Corra saw the bright lights. Even before she had to wait for the train to pass and then cross the tracks themselves, she knew it was a circus. That word… she knew what it was. It caused something warm to spread in her cold and empty chest - what was it? Ah, yes. The warmth of joy and excitement. Circuses were a place she had been to before she lost her memory, before she had woken in an empty house with an empty head. The memory came slow to her, through the fog of time, as she stood before the entrance. The large and rough hand of a man next to her is wrapped around her smaller, softer one. Instinctively

Forgetting Noah: The Dream

F

Forgetting Noah: The Dream

The sun was just setting when Corra saw the bright lights. Even before she had to wait for the train to pass and then cross the tracks themselves, she knew it was a circus. That word… she knew what it was. It caused something warm to spread in her cold and empty chest - what was it? Ah, yes. The warmth of joy and excitement. Circuses were a place she had been to before she lost her memory, before she had woken in an empty house with an empty head. The memory came slow to her, through the fog of time, as she stood before the entrance. The large and rough hand of a man next to her is wrapped around her smaller, softer one. Instinctively

Pursuit of a Dream

Pursuit of a Dream

  Leia em Português| Share  |Archives   Trekking at Sunset   by MetaWorks (https://www.deviantart.com/metaworks), JoeyVazquez (https://www.deviantart.com/joeyvazquez), sanjun (https://www.deviantart.com/sanjun) Felipe Cagno’s Long Journey to “The Lost Kids: Seeking Samarkang.” by techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic) Many deviants know well… …“The Lost Kids: Seeking Samarkand”, the 200+ pages graphic novel written and created by Brazilian storyteller FelipeCagno (https://www.deviantart.com/felipecagno). What few know is the story of how it took him almost a decade to bring this story to the public between script re–writes, production setbacks and more than three years of working with a team of artists spread across the globe. Although “The Lost Kid
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i would do anything to get you to love yourself

i

i would do anything to get you to love yourself

i know your type, i’ve seen them around here before, browsing through my poems like you’re flipping through vinyl records, trying to find that one disc you were listening to the first time he leaned over and kissed you. the only way you’ll ever be able to love yourself is if he leans over and kisses you again, is if someone tells you about the seven wonders of your soul, if someone sits down and writes a list of all your beautiful fault lines that you’ve never been able to forgive. you want to love yourself and you want to be loved, but i know it’s hard to believe that you’re holy, when your hands still s

One, two, three

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One, two, three

My boyfriend watched, open mouthed as I unscrewed the lid of your urn, and ran my fingers through your ashes. Your depression, your soul dust. I felt an ocean rolling under my ribs and an urge to cradle your urn, rock you back and forth like you did for me when I was young. - At the funeral, my uncle announced that you hated religion. But he left out the part where you did believe in a God, just that he was always punishing you. - “There was nothing you could have done” said the other uncle. I think of all those spent wishes, the birthday candles extinguished for gifts, the meteor showers I wasted on love, the prayers offered from

You May Say I'm An Artist...

You May Say I'm An Artist...

Share  |  Archive By techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic) I am haunted in this holiday season by the opening lines of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities, his novel about a society 250 years ago coming apart in its seemingly irreconcilable divisions. Could it be these lines define where we have come to find ourselves today? “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, in the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…” ur own epoch is one of the tec

Spotlight

Silly Buddy

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Artist // Student // Traditional Art
  • Oct 27
  • United States
  • Deviant for 8 years
Badges
Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (21)
My Bio
I'm back everyone! Don't expect to get immediate answers, but do expect to not have six month disappearances!

Favourite Visual Artist
my 5th grade art teacher
Favourite Movies
Tron:Legacy
Favourite TV Shows
none
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Coldplay and Linkon Park
Favourite Books
Hunger Games Trilogy, Maximum Ride Series, The Inheritance Series
Favourite Writers
James Patterson
Favourite Games
Halo: Reach, Halo 3, Castle Crashers, Black Ops, and Modern Warfare 2
Favourite Gaming Platform
Xbox, Nintendo 64 (yes I still have one :^) and it still works, even better)
Tools of the Trade
pencil, paper, and other stuff
Other Interests
Spending time with my dog (his name is Buddy) :), Swimming, Soccer, Piano, Trombone.

New Year, Old Writing

New Year, Old Writing

One  of the things I always love to do on New Years is to go through all of my old writing, whether it be from school work or just me messing around. It's nice to just sit there and laugh at how bad my hand writing was in fifth grade, or what a bad writer I was in general at the time. I feel very bittersweet, because this year I'm at my cousins' house, which is, unfortunately, not where I keep all of my writing and I didn't get a chance to look through my things before we left. However, I love coming to my cousins' house because they live far away and we don't come here very often, and it's the last year I'll ever come to this house because t

Important Question!

Important Question!

Hello Everyone! I have an important question: If you had a choice between doing something you loved to do and were pretty good at and something you were really good at but didn't really like that much any more, which would you choose? Your answer will not be final, i just wanted to see where other people were on something like this. Please answer!

Long Time No See!

Long Time No See!

My goodness, it's been a long time since I've poked my head in here! Sorry everyone, if you've tried to reach me. I don't know why I haven't been on here for so long. It's so different! Gosh, so many updates... I feel so lost! Well, I'll check up here every once in while, and no a while is not defined as six months anymore :). Adios Amigos!

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Red Rose in teardrop crystal vase dewless 
Thanks for the fave <3
Thanks for the fave :D

:icontransparentplz::icontransparentplz::iconcloudsplz::iconhappysunplz::iconcloudsplz:

Thanks for reading and for faving my work! I really appreciate it 

tateetahStudent Traditional Artist
You're welcome! It's some of the best on this website and I'm glad to know of such an amazing artist who uses pen and paper to show her ideas. You're an inspiration to all and keep working hard!
Thanks for the fave!
tateetahStudent Traditional Artist
You're welcome!
Love Thanks for the faves!