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Literature
Like A Lovebird
Seven-year-old Tidus stood in the living room behind the couch, watching the sphere screen over his mother’s shoulder. The news reporter was giving details on the on-going search for Jecht. Several search parties had been sent throughout Zanarkand, some were even sent across the sea, but every party returned with the same results: there was no sign of Jecht. It was as if Zanarkand’s greatest blitzball player had simply vanished into thin air.
“Oh, brother,” Tidus moaned when the news reporter covered his eyes and couldn’t go on.
The sphere screen shifted abruptly to a commercial, and Tidus’ mother switched it off. She sat on the couch in silence, staring miserably at the now-blank sphere screen.
“Mom?”
“They’re never going to find him,” Tidus’ mother whispered, as if she’d only just realized the dismal truth.
Tidus bowed his head. Since his father’s disappearance, his mother’s health had been steadily declining.
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Literature
I Was Listening
Lenne stood in the middle of her apartment, trying to ignore the sphere screen on which the news reporter was giving details of the upcoming battle, the last stand for Zanarkand. She turned the sphere off with an angry jerk and returned to her preparations. She was getting ready for the coming battle with the grim air of any warrior doomed to certain death at the front lines. But if this meant saving her people and her home from utter destruction at the hands of Bevelle . . .  then so be it. It was her duty as a summoner to die for her people if they called for it. And yet, somehow . . . she didn’t see how dying was going to solve anything. In fact, she knew in the back of her mind that the fighting would probably go on long after Zanarkand was a pile of rubble on the edge of Spira.
“People will never let go of their hate,” Lenne whispered angrily to herself as she snatched her small microphone up from the coffee table. After gazing miserably at the small objec
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Literature
Boys Will Be Boys
Sora sat bolt-upright among the wide, flat, fan-like leaves of a palm tree and glanced breathlessly at his watch. It was late in the morning, almost noon, and he was covered in a cold sweat; his hands were shaking. His white t-shirt with its blue trim and minor tears had been bleached white by the blaring sun – but it was not the sun that had made Sora’s skin erupt so heavily with sweat. Sora had been having a dream – a nightmare about a giant black shadow creature with twin beams of light glowing fierce as flames in its wreath of snake-like hair. “You know so little -- YOU KNOW NOTHING!” the creature had roared, and Sora found himself staggering along in darkness, terrified. His mouth gapping in horror as he looked back over his shoulder, he tripped over his sandaled feet and fell screaming, plunging through the darkness.
Sora’s screams were still echoing in his ears when he awoke in the leaves of his favorite palm tree – a tree that leaned like a re
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Literature
Why It's Important
Why It’s Important
an essay directed at all Americans, not a single culture or race

Every year, I am blessed with having to hear all kinds of bullshit explanations for why Black History Month exists. Black History Month isn’t supposed to be about making white people feel guilty nor is it supposed to be about excluding other races (yes, I’m talking to those blacks who made some very shameful choices at the Black Expo last year.  I heard that some black people attacked white people for trying to take part in the festivities – utterly stupid. How can other cultures learn to accept us if we don’t let them participate?). It’s also not about blacks having a holiday so we’ll shut up (I heard this one last year. A very vulgar comment from a very vulgar person, no doubt.). It’s not about blacks thinking they’re more special than other races (this is the most childish accusation I’ve yet to hear. Because I happen to
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Playing Keep Away by Unali Playing Keep Away :iconunali:Unali 10 5
Literature
To a Boy I Used to Know
To a Boy I Used to Know,
This afternoon I was balling up old newspapers to use for packing boxes when I came across your picture in the paper. The headline read along the lines “20-Year-Old Shot to Death.” My mouth dropped open and I stared and stared at the clipping. I just . . . couldn’t believe it was you! You! That boy I used to know so, so long ago in grade school. What has it been? Ten years? And yet, I’d know that face anywhere.
I’m going to embarrass myself, possibly shock you or make you laugh by what I’m about to tell you. The truth is, I almost cried when I saw you were dead – and it hadn’t happened very long ago. A few months ago, in fact. I recall vaguely that I thought about you around the time the newspaper clipping said you had passed on from the gunshot wound – and why not? You see, you never seemed to realize, but I had the biggest crush on you.
You were the first boy I liked who was younger than me. I have never liked y
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:iconunali:Unali 4 15
Your. Opinions. Mean. Nothing. by Unali Your. Opinions. Mean. Nothing. :iconunali:Unali 6 0 Ladies First by Unali Ladies First :iconunali:Unali 64 0
Mature content
how a heart breaks chp 3 :iconunali:Unali 3 9
Mature content
how a heart breaks chp 2 :iconunali:Unali 5 3
Literature
how a heart breaks chp 1
Chapter 1
Megara’s sandals sloshed through the mud, dragging up dirt and grime every time she lifted them and splattering her long magenta gown every time she brought them down. She was a lovely young woman and very thin, with tiny feet and waist so small a man could have almost taken it in his hand. Her dark red hair she kept pulled high in a ponytail and her features were sharp and angular but lovely nonetheless.
It was raining hard and Meg had been caught in the sudden downpour – everyone had been caught. There was a festival going on in Athens, the spring festival that celebrated new life and fresh beginnings. Meg had, as usual, attended the booths and dances and art displays alone, slipping stealthily among the tables and the crowds.
Megara was a beggar woman, after all, and festivals were the best time to stop begging and start picking pockets. Of course, she hadn’t always been so low on the social ladder: she had once been the daughter of a great and influential m
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Sorry, Saleen, Not a Sailor by Unali Sorry, Saleen, Not a Sailor :iconunali:Unali 27 29 Sore Loser by Unali Sore Loser :iconunali:Unali 4 8 Muhahahahahahahaaa by Unali Muhahahahahahahaaa :iconunali:Unali 38 25 Rafiki Sitting by Unali Rafiki Sitting :iconunali:Unali 8 7 Simba Plushie, Squeeze Me? by Unali Simba Plushie, Squeeze Me? :iconunali:Unali 2 4

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Unali
it hurts my brain when you talk
United States
This account is no longer active, folks.

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:iconmrbig2:
MrBig2 Featured By Owner May 27, 2011   Filmographer
Are requests and or trades open?
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:iconbubbykat:
bubbykat Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2010  Student Digital Artist
I miss you :hug:
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:iconvaleriuccialovely:
valeriuccialovely Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2009
ahahah it's true,not everyone loves Twilight!xD
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:iconkyokui:
Kyokui Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2009  Student Traditional Artist
[link] <--- Congrats! ^^
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:iconshmirry:
Shmirry Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2009
:iconsoftglompplz:
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:iconthefarawayperson:
thefarawayperson Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2009
Thanks for the watch:)
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:iconunali:
Unali Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2009
np :)
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:iconracy-fox:
Racy-Fox Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2009
thanks for the fave ^-^
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:iconunali:
Unali Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2009
yourrrrrr welcome! :D
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