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A Letter To No One In ParticularI should have realised it earlier, when you did all you could to make me feel like a third wheel. If you don't like me, then don't. I am who I am, flaws and all, and I can't help that. Nor will I apologise for it. I obsess sometimes, because I can't do things by halves. I self depricate because I am (have been suicidally) depressed. I wonder what others think of me because I'm neurotic. Sometimes I talk too much because I think if I stop, people will realise how much they hate me, and if i distract them, they won't leave. I won't apologise for who I am. If you say you're my friend and you actually dislike me, or you're too lazy/cowardly to just defriend me, than shame on you. I don't want false friends, even if that leaves me with very few people to talk to. When I say I'm your friend, I really meant it. Sincerely and wholeheartedly.
So thank you for not telling me that I annoy you, so I would be ignorant of your dislike and so I could feel a fool when I found out about it.
A Modern twist on Rapunzel. In order to escape certain death in their world, Sara Cavanaugh and her friends escape to another, to which Faeries and pagan gods retreated. There, they discover a house which connects to multiple time periods, and they are told of doorways between the two worlds. Doorways that were closed for a reason and that were being reopened; and they are charged with the task of closing these doorways by one of their descendants.
When they seek help from an ailing Faerie, she shows them a vision of the future. A future in which a Faerie girl, delinquent by nature, is forced to abandon her mortal friends to live in her one world. A world where corruption and decadence permeate every layer of society, including a prestigious private school full of traitors, thieves and killers. This is a society where the children of the aristocracy are forced to become under-age soldiers in a military that can overrule even the monarchy. The girl soon meets Miles
Of Demons and PoltergeistsA black silhouette stood in front of the all-consuming conflagration, watching blissfully as the smoke stained the stars out of existence. A low chuckle rose in the pyromaniac's throat, a terrifying noise that built to a crescendo as she bent over double, the golden Glasgow grin on her mask echoing the laughter coming from her mouth. The trees around her burned as stood there laughing, creating more of the horrendous destruction the woman's twisted mind deemed 'artwork'. Her gleeful sounds faded as she regained composure, slinging the half-empty can of gasoline onto her back before Erika Shen began walking from her newest masterpiece; a house, filled with visiting families for a reunion, burned to the ground with no possible chance of escaping. The schizophrenic psychopath stalked past several trees marked with the accursed symbol she so despised. The infamous axe murderer named after the Roman Goddess of the Dawn stood before a great, leafless tree. She snickered, pouring the remainin
autoportret..cine esti..si de unde vii tu..?
si m-am nascut din matasea aprinsa
a nemuririi mele..
inima mea..este o vesnica rebela..
inca de la inceputul creatiei..
sunt maestra propriei mele forte..
si detinatoarea marelui secret..
al lui dumnezeu..
care a crescut tremurand pe un deal inghetat..
..si locuiesc in oaza de lumina..
intr-o lume dincolo de lumea ta..
unde stelele se holbeaza la forta mea..
iar iadul tremura in pumnul meu..
noaptea se teme de durerea mea..
iar dimineata impietrita..
isi culca suspinul pe a mea perna..
am imblanzit supliciul..
si am cucerit infernul..
..si l-am lasat liber prin venele mele..
am tesut imagini din lacrimi de sange..
si am spalat cu ele dorul greu..
am sfasiat infinitul in o mie de bucati..!!!!
si i-am dat drumul prin mine..
si atomii mei ti-i arunc in suflet..
tu ii imbratisezi ingrozit..
vazand prin ei..bezna din lumina mea..
si ii culci in camera din inima ta..
si ii speli de noroi..si ii cureti de spini..
Rainbows and Zombies It was a bright sunny day in the City of Color River. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The mood at Color Wind High School was cheerful and excited; for the first semester has just started. But not everyone was in a cheerful mood.
At the side of the private school, on the winding stair cases that had stops every ten steps, there was a boy. An 18 year old boy with green hair and green eyes leaned forward on the rails in the second to the top break. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a dark green sleeveless, thin jacket. He was also wearing blue jeans and dark green shoes. His elbow was resting on the rail, and his fist was pressed against the left side of his face. There was a sad expression on his face. He was sad, depressed, and heartbroken.
He let out a sad sigh. Then a girl who looked to be the same age came up the stairs and walked next to him. She had brig
Ama shelnev, Hemlekh shelnevYou were once a Queen.
It is a reminder that Corydon gives her often. A reminder that she did not begin as they did. Hers was a different beginning, a different birth, a different origin. She has always been set apart and he reminds her often that she is not from the same place as the rest of them.
The reminder comes most often when she lowers herself to dirty her hands for them, when she takes the blame for something she need not, and most especially when she bows the whim or pressure of one he deems to be beneath her. Mostly, the reminder comes when he is insulted on her behalf for how they treat her.
I was so stunned by who you were, that I think I gave away more of myself than I meant to....
The memory of his admission made her smile. Then again, so much of what he had said made her smile to remember it. He spoke of how he was taught that it is his responsibility to care for those who were his. He spoke of serfs and servants without the lowering of his voice that so m
The NewbornThe Newborn
Christy Waters was only 19 years old when she learned that she was pregnant. Moreover, she could not know certainly who gave her the cells. Her mother and father felt puzzled as well. Christy was a good girl and never considered being a whore. So nobody knew whose cells had mixed with her eggs.
When the nine months passed and she was due to deliver, more people than her and her parents wondered about the fetus. Furthermore, Christy had no physical signs of pregnancy as would manifest with normal cases. Her weight and shape remained normal. But she lost much blood and felt debilitated. The hospital suggested a diet to help her recover. However, the delivery cost her and the emerging fetus was very peculiar. It had only a few basic humanoid features. It had a face, neck and shoulders of a male child but from the shoulders down to the feet, the appearance was neither human nor other primate. The abdomen sported a mass of inky tentacles and the arms were long and sinewy.
The HuntThe kill was fresh and the hunt had begun anew. The hunter was on the prowl once more; the mighty stalker began by silently scouting the room. He felt the fear of his prey, the warmth of their presence. The primal urges convulsed in his veins, strengthening him. He slowly crept through the rafters, quickly enough to keep up with his prey, and quietly enough for his prey to be unaware. The constant pounding in his head kept him motivated, and the shadows writhed about him. No longer was he human, as being contained in a laboratory for twelve years had changed him.
But something else swirled through his veins, something inhuman, something that was never meant to be. He remembered it all, the test procedures and serums, the cruel testing and the white garbs of the scientists. But now he was free, and nobody would be able to stop him from taking his revenge. His prey was on the move once more, the white jacket drifting behind him. The hunter grinned with delight, and began to move swiftly
The Crimson Duke, Part 2So far, I've actually accomplished quite a lot. I've had to kill a few people to get the information I needed, but that doesn't matter. I guess none of it does.
I'm a wanted man now. Not that I'm a guy, but, you know.
There is really nothing much else to do.
I got up from the smoking fire, deciding that it was time to call it quits. The fire was dying anyway. But something about it caught my attention, by chance. the smoke wasn't black or gray, it had this odd little tint to it, like a dusky kind of red, mixed with brown.
I looked closer. I didn't see anything else of any supposed importance.
And when the plastic explosive went off, I didn't even feel it.
PoliteMy parents trusted in the small town dynamics we had going. My town had about 40,000 people. We lived sprawled across huge lots, with neighbors that were always willing to lend a hand. So they did not expect too much trouble when they left for the week.
My cousin Toni was watching me. She was 21 and rather irresponsible. She left me home alone for most of the week while my parents soaked up the rays in Hawaii. Her version of watching me was to check in every few days and take me to the store as needed. She told me to have fun.
She taught me to drive a stick shift when I was 14. I really loved her.
I heard the scraping in the lock around 2am, I thought it was Toni. I had the windows open upstairs because of the dry heat and I could hear the sound of metal scraping against the lock. I thought she might be drunk, so I went downstairs and looked through the pained glass window.
The face that looked back was not that of a young adult, but a man in his late 30s. He looked at me for a moment
Cry of the JackalsCry of the Jackals
Those who have traversed the Sahara along the Egyptian stretch and wandered through the Valley of Kings might have chanced to hear the occasional cries of jackals. They sometimes hang out near the doors of the tombs. When this writer was at the nearest resort, a traveler such as I mentioned arrived and told me and a few others that he had seen or heard a clutch of jackals at a particular tomb. Naturally, someone inquired,
"Which tomb was it? Akhenaten? Ramses?"
"I am not really sure," he replied, nervously. "Neither did I see a marking nor did my guide know."
An unmarked tomb. An unknown mummy. Something very strange was going on out there. However, I was still on holiday and had no intention to investigate. So the inquirer, Edmond Tulley, an amateur investigator who occasionally worked with Scotland Yard, felt it was incumbent to go. The journey was about two days by rover.
When Tulley arrived, he and his guide, a native Egyptian, camped and checked provisions. Cert
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More