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About Deviant MichaelMale/United States Group :icontexasdevmeet: Texasdevmeet
We wont bite...without BBQ sauce
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Deviant for 14 Years
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Literature
Stories
This is a story.
Well, by that, I mean it has a beginning and an end.
It has a climax, reaching a critical mass in the nuclear reactor of drama
and a denouement as soft as the greenest rolling hills under a radiant sun,
so carefully constructed, the story's end is that single point in a sunset
where you're not sure if it's done setting.
It has characters so fully developed that you'd think them real.
Because they ARE real.
And the setting?  Well, it's here.  It's here and now - that's where it starts, anyway.
The plot twist makes little Laura Cleveland,
the girl in your third grade class with the tightest curls you've ever seen,
think her hair straight.
This is a story of my life, and your life, and all our lives,
because we're all connected.
But this chapter - it's mine.
The climax?  I imagine it's yet to come.
And I envision my denouement, so tiny off in the distance,
as a single, graceful scene - no,  instead, a literal montage
that takes the
:iconTheSpiritx:TheSpiritx
:iconthespiritx:TheSpiritx 2 5
Literature
Carpet
My carpet is my own.
It has lines across it -
strips of dark and light sand-colored shades
that indicate, perhaps, an incessant need for cleanliness.
Barely visible under alternating trails,
areas of fiber, once crushed underfoot,
still showing the remains of that weight.
Some shaped like feet themselves,
some like shoes,
and some like boots during those times I am running late,
but all the same size.
My carpet is not new,
but its patterns recognize only me.
Its wear and tear, fraying on the edge
that sticks out against the wall
by the back door
where no footprints are to be found,
and the stain behind my chair,
slightly orange, barely textured,
and somewhat round,
proudly stand to remind me
that my carpet is my own.
At the entrance to my home,
my carpet meets a tile floor,
which serves as protection from
the outside world.
Shoes stop at this juncture to rest like
weary travelers kicked back in relaxation,
propped casually against the wall or each other
and keeping tightly to themselve
:iconTheSpiritx:TheSpiritx
:iconthespiritx:TheSpiritx 4 6
Literature
Thump, Thump
Thump, thump.
His heart pounded in his chest,
looking at her picture on his desk,
then, a phone call,
"Can you come on over?"
"Yes, I'll be right there."
Thump, thump.
In time with the car radio,
but he didn't feel the song,
all his mind focused on
was the drive – so, so long.
Thump, thump.
He was going to see her,
his friend, his fiancee,
his dream, his life -
and, as he had always thought,
eventually,
his wife.
Thump, thump.
Like the time he proposed,
his heart thrashed, a tympani drum
of emotion – fear –
exposing his intentions early,
but not ruining the sweetness of the moment
as he dropped to one knee silently.

Thump, thump.
At the door now,
cold steel frame and heavy-set,
painted dark with blues and grays,
the color of the sky
on that dreary day.
Thump, thump.
"Is this her, sir?  Is this your wife?"
A nod.
And the sheet was placed slowly
back over her face.
:iconTheSpiritx:TheSpiritx
:iconthespiritx:TheSpiritx 0 0

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TheSpiritx
Michael
United States
Serving in the military. I am a writer, but these days don't afford me the time or inspiration. It may be that I am a past writer, or, maybe even that I am a past and future writer. All I know at this time is that nothing has begged to be written for over a year.
Interests
For one reason or another, I had to stop writing.

I've started again.

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:iconrandomaxes:
randomaxes Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2011
happy birthdA
7 years...that's like since this place started lol
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:iconthespiritx:
TheSpiritx Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2011
haha... yeah, thanks! I have been around forever, huh?
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:iconrandomaxes:
randomaxes Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2011
forever in interwebs years ;p
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