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About Deviant William TurbyfillMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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Pastels by williamturbyfill Pastels :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 0 0 Nother Noir by williamturbyfill Nother Noir :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 0 0 The Accused by williamturbyfill The Accused :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 0 0 A Difficult Subject by williamturbyfill A Difficult Subject :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 1 0 Little Ridiculous, I Know by williamturbyfill Little Ridiculous, I Know :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 1 0 Morning, Beautiful Morning by williamturbyfill Morning, Beautiful Morning :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 3 0 Reflecting by williamturbyfill Reflecting :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 0 0 Ruston Beach by williamturbyfill Ruston Beach :iconwilliamturbyfill:williamturbyfill 2 0
Talking Skip
Living in Tacoma and other more urban areas of the world, I’ve grown accustomed to thinking of drives as near instantaneous endeavors. But back when I didn’t know of such places, drives were usually long, with entire days planned around a trip into town. More often than not these drives were silent and what little conversation there was centered around current events and who was sick or on the mend.
We had been driving for awhile. Some errand had led us to Huntsville and we were on our way back home down a long stretch of Pulaski Pike in northern Alabama. My father drove his blue Ford pickup that had once taken my siblings and me across the country to Carlsbad Caverns. A lot of time has been spent riding in that vehicle.
I have forgotten the disagreement that led to the argument, and I have for gotten the argument that led to the silence. But I have not forgotten the silence and I shall never forget the words my father said to me when the silence was over.
“Have you ever
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Put This in Your Pipe
Submitted on behalf of my friend Ruthefurd Bummage.
Greetings once again faithful readers; I must dispense with normal pleasantries as brevity is of the utmost importance in today’s writing. In a typical written piece I would spend the first several paragraphs expounding on basic salutations and witty anecdotal musings.  Sadly the issue of which I speak about in this one leaves no room for banal chit-chat as I will be discussing a genuine tragedy. Be warned this editorial is not for the faint of heart and will cause some of you to react in a negative and possibly extreme manner. Now you might think that such a topic would require or demand a comedic introduction and various moments of joviality scattered about to relieve stress. Your basic assumption would be correct under normal circumstances but has the common misquotation goes ‘it’s the exception that proves the rule’ there shall be no such tension breaker today. That is how strongly I feel about
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Blind Service
He had never known what it looked like, the place he had come to call home, but the sounds and smells had grown all too familiar. He knew there was a window in the cell, somewhere high and out of reach; something that let in sound during the day and the icy cold at night. He had no bed and blanket to shield him from the wind, only a pile of earth in the corner where perhaps the builders had run out of stone. When it rained the ceiling let in water that would gathered in his corner forcing him to sleep in the mud.
He thanked God often that the cell he was placed in had been empty; that his captors had seen fit to imprison him alone. Had he been forced to share the cell he knew he would not make it; not with out his eyes and not with his strength taken from him. But loneliness had been the only luxury bestowed upon him.
His days were broken into three parts. After waking up, never voluntarily, he would be dragged by his feet and taken down the stairs and strapped with bronze shackles to
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The First Luv of My Life
In the 3rd grade I had my first serious relationship with a member of the opposite sex. She sat next to me in Mrs. William’s class and she was beautiful. This was back when I was never nervous in front of girls as they were not yet the threat they would eventually become.  So I asked her flat out if she wanted to be my girlfriend.  Not, “would you like to have some milk after school?” or “Maybe we could catch a game of kickball at recess.” I asked “Would you like to be my girlfriend?” I was all about the commitment right up front, and it did not go unrewarded.  She responded with an enthusiastic “Sure.”  
From that day forward we were inseparable except of course when I needed my space.  We had lunch together; accept when I wanted to hang out with the guys.  We would walk holding hands during recess; accept when I was called off on an emergency game of ‘King of the Ring’.&
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Rather Than Be Happy
Asleep on this the eve of tomorrow,
I dream in the same hopes of yesterday.
But silence just increases my sorrow
For there is just too much for me to say.
Here in that spirit world where life is haze
There is at least the possibility
That in the restful hours between your days
Your heart and mind do fondly think of me
Then the fear that captains my heart will speak
Saying words so bitter they must be true
That if I say what it is that I seek
Im forever saying farewell to you
So rather than embrace what is that seems
I will sleep soundly embracing my dreams.
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For as long as I can remember I have been super strong. When I was three, I was lifting boulders five times my size. By ten, I was moving mountains that touched the sky, and once at the age of twenty I moved the world.
There was no one who could rival my strength and even fewer who would try. Soon I had accomplished all things laid out before me. The world was mine, and mine alone. It was then that I met her; the girl who could fly. There are neither poets that can capture her in prose nor time enough to try. Only the language of the heavens could describe her, and the beings there guard their words jealously.
I would crush coal into diamonds, tell her of the mountains I have moved and of the worlds I had conquered all in hopes of winning her affection. But it was with placated interest that she listened.
What good are mounds of dirt when you can rise above it all? When you can soar like an angel over mountains and through the clouds, around the sun and past the stars? What can I do th
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William Turbyfill
United States


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aleliaw Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2009  Professional Photographer
thank you for the watch! And welcome to dA! Your photos are extravagant..
(1 Reply)