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UntitledThe stress within me follows my every move,
Throughout these troubled times I see myself as a faint shadow of whom I used to be
Yet in other times I see myself as nothing but a failure to the place from which I come
Not a day goes by that I even look to myself as someone of any value yet I manage to make it through these days just scraping by hoping for the the faintest whiff of what lies over these next hills for they are clouded in a mist full of hatred and despair. I want to enter it, to feel it, for it to consume my entire being. Yet pressing forward in such a manner is not who I truly am.
I must stand my ground and walk this shadowed path winding slowly through the swamps and the trees. A jungle at times it almost feels, but at other times it appears to be quite empty. Like there really isn't anything there that can do me any real harm.
Let the rain fallAs the water falls down
I sit within
All around me it hits gently
Calming Soothing Painful
It hides much within its grace
Yet brakes down the strongest of stone
It speaks gentle words of the world
As I move it changes
Making all different
And all better
FallingTo the ground we all fall, upon this earth we lay our heads
Nothing to catch us but a gentle breeze
We drift about in this life like a leaf in the wind
No true direction, only guesses where we will lay
As we land we make no sound
The earth groans a silent sigh of relief knowing we lay safe upon it
It starts to rain
As we lie in waiting drops land upon us
They roll down our cheeks
Cold trails form on us while they roll over our warm faces
To the point tears and rain become one
Our true emotions show
Where love, hate, sadness, happiness,grief and jealousy combine into a bliss of emotion
We become weightless once again
As we continue to fall we think of our life
What we want in it
With such clarity that all is shown, the veil over our eyes is gone
Only the light shows through
As the earth grows greater in view we slow
With the wind
With the water
We become one
Reapers Of the Living One"Hey jack?" James says in a low tone.
"What James?" as jack replies with the tone of annoyance in his voice.
"Do you still remember you life before we got sent to hell and became reapers of the living?" asked James.
Jack utters to James "yea I remember, I miss it every day. Thanks to you though I got sent to that prison and killed in that explosion!".
Whoa, really? You are blaming that on me? It was you who wanted to make the self sacrifice to save that girl that you loved jack. I gave you a choice, I detonate the nuclear device and you live a life with the girl, or we both go up in the explosion and look like we are heroes. But no, you wanted to look like a hero, well we were never really heroes after we were on the run.
Yea James, I know, but still, it's your fault that we got sent to prison you fucking asshole!
Hey, hey knife slinger. I had to kill off my entire corporation, they were corrupt and having me kill the innocent. Heck we barely had any contact before I went ro
Reapers Of the Living :Benny:First Name: Benny
Last Name: Kalkins
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: White
Cause of Death: Drug Over Dose
Demon Name: Benny
Occupation: Hells Gate Keeper and looks over the reaper program
Normal Attire: White suit from the 70's with a purple silk shirt, has black crow wings
Habits: Randomly showing up at the most inappropriate times for jack and James, Enjoys punishing the dammed as they enter hell, Enjoys dropping his annoying little stalker (Ashley) off with James and jack where she drives them absolutely nuts, always leaves one feather dropping slowly to the ground when he teleports from place to place, Enjoys appearing in front of James when he is getting ready to take his shot on a kill order
Favorite Drink: Dr. Pepper
History: Originally from the 70's he had died due to a drug over does in a club, he was sent to hell because it was categorized as a suicide, Lucifer for some reason greeted him with open arms and made him gate keeper of hell, h
Reapers Of the Living :Jack:First Name: Jack
Last Name: Winston
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: White
Original Occupation: Military analyst
Reason for Imprisonment: Framed by the government
Cause of death: Assisted suicide by James
Demon Name: Hasn't chosen yet
Powers: Can put extreme amounts of kinetic energy into anything he throws, heightened reflexes, super sensitivity, non human speed and agility, the ability to heal within seconds and have no scars, non human strength, teleportation, when he has his demonic powers he is invulnerable to every weapon known to man, can create a weapon from anything he finds
Job Skills: Top Ranked Marksman, Tracking, Explosives Technician, Manufacturing of Weapons, Survival expert, No Remorse, Insanity
Past Training: Ex Navy Seal, Navy Sniper, Navy Explosives Technician
Weakness: Women, caffeine
History: Lost all family at the age of 12, Lived by himself for years in the wilderness staying in the family cab
popsicleSummer forever frozen
An orange popsicle
Sold from an icebox
dry and vaporous
atop a tricycle
Four tingling bells
rung by the little man pedaling at the back
announcing the coming
Framed in trees
always green in the light of the sun
Lancelot Price 2014 August 26
No crappy songs on a loudspeaker loop
just the sweet sweet cold refreshment
I will always live there.
Diminuendo“Why did you quit band?” My friends would ask. Some were betrayed by my decision, some saddened.
Every time, I would change it: the director was disagreeable, I wanted to do other things, it took up too much time, etc.
Every time, I would think of the moments, the emotions I thought I could handle.
But they became too heavy, too much, too painful.
i. Air conditioned rooms were a luxury after hours under the summer sun, even if the room was just a small practice room. We had new music to learn after all.
I was excited, why wouldn’t I? New music were like new books, new adventures.
Then the sheet was plopped onto the stand in front of me.
It made no sense whatsoever.
“Let’s play it together!” The bubbly teacher would say, her tone more appropriate for kindergartners.
I looked around the room, wondering why I was the only one who couldn’t get past one measure.
“Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought..”
Child, ChildOnce there was a little girl. She was small, with long brown hair and deep-set brown eyes and always smiled at everything. Her mother was an average sized woman with long brown hair and not-so-deep brown eyes, whose entire world was her daughter. Her father was an average sized man with short brown hair, and wild, wide gray eyes.
The little girl’s father had some problems he couldn’t handle, however, and the mother took her daughter away, to live on their own in a small apartment. They didn’t have very many things, because they were rather poor, and the little girls mother worked very hard to make sure her daughter had enough to eat and a few toys to play with. But even though there was no television or expensive toys, the girl was happy to live there with her mother. She knew that since her mother loved her more than anything, it would be okay. They had a routine: every morning the little girl would eat breakfast, go to preschool or grandma’s house, and her mot
confessions full of jack 20I do not go to the hair dressers that often and I get my nails done only once in a while. Don't get me wrong; I do comb my hair every day, and care about being presentable. I do cut and file my nails regularly and put on nail polish if I feel like it. I just do not go to a place of business to get these things done to me. People think it is because I think badly of women who visit those places often. More than a few people have commented "Yes, you are not vain," to me after I told them I do not have such an habit; thinking they are actually paying me a compliment. I do not connect all hairdresser visits with being vain. Maybe I might connect it with conformity; conforming to the society's standards of how a woman should look like. But I am aware how hard it is to ignore those standards while trying to survive in this system. Women are expected to look nice. Well, no, not just expected; it is demanded of us. And it takes time to look nice. It takes even longer if you try to do it all on
Sara's Stories: Nanook On The RoofSara's Stories | Episode 8: Nanook On The Roof
It's been a good while since I've posted a memoir story, and I thought of a good one.
Back in 1997 and 1998, I had to stay at a daycare while my parents were at work, and I would often bring a favorite toy of mine to play with and help me feel less lonesome. One day, I decided to take my plush Nanook the Husky (an original Ty Beanie Baby) with me to the daycare. All was going quite well for me and Nanook... until I went outside after lunch.
There was a boy in my class who wanted to borrow Nanook so he could play with him for a few minutes. ...I was actually rather reluctant to do so from the start, but to be fair to him, I said yes, as long as he would properly return Nanook to me when he was done.
Soon after I lent Nanook to that boy, he began tossing Nanook in the air and then catching him as he came back down. But unfortunately, he began walking close to the side of t
On Gender Dysphoria“Why do you always dress like a boy?”
Confused, I looked up from where I was pulling my shoes on. “I’m sorry?” I asked, frowning at my mum where she was washing dishes at the sink.
“You,” she said, turning to me and leaning back against the bench. “Why do you always insist on dressing like a boy?”
“I… don’t,” I replied hesitantly, still confused.
“Yes, you do. You’re always dressing like a boy, or wanting to. Why?”
Thinking for a moment, I remember Shaylah’s sixteenth birthday party, 60’s themed, which I’d wanted to attend as a classic gangster. Then, I remembered last weekend, when I’d gone to the Sugar City Comicon, dressed as Femlock, then looked down at myself now, wearing a black dress shirt and slacks for Film Friday of the school’s Spirit Week, probably the best, most entertaining week of the year. “Not really.”
“But you do! Why c
I Never Even Got to Say Goodbye (Marcello)Once upon a time, in Kindergarten, I had a friend. His name was Marcello. We were the best friends, as we would always play together, talk to each other, and, of course, get in trouble together. Then, one day, Marcello announced that he was moving. I saw him gather his stuff and walk out the door. It hit me hard. I felt as if I'd never see him again.
Fortunately, I got his new address.
One day (I was in first grader at the time), I went to his new house. It felt really good seeing him again. We played Sonic and did a bunch of other random crap. I believe on that visit Marcello got scolded by his mom for complaining about something. I felt bad seeing him sad. Eventually, the bittersweet visit ended as I had to go home.
A little while later, something terrible happened.
My mother had heard from Marcello's mother that he and his father were in a car crash and had to go to the hospital. I was shocked. He could've been dead or something, for all I know.
It turned out that nothing serious ha
Birthdays of past and presentHe sat in the dining room, alone for the minute. He hadn't been as happy for his birthday for many a year. Just days before he had done everything he could to weasel himself out of the lunch that was offered to him, to celebrate a day that had only brought sadness as long as he could remember. He couldn't help reminisce and glance through the window of his past that he had boxed up so as never to relive those days. He hadn't told her why he originally said no, passing it off as his own insecurity in turning 30 and the stigma that so often comes with it. He consoled himself in the fact that even though it was the least of the reasons, it was as promised, the truth.
After making sure they had enough alcohol, the boys stood on the mountain in a semi circle to toast the fact that it was but 5 minutes until he was allowed to drink. The air smelled like spring veld grass and marijuana, still cold with the last remnants of winter that only showed themselves in the wee hours of the morning. He
The Toilet Incident: A True StoryThe Toilet Incident
The day had not been particularly full or productive. I had risen early, or earlier than I would have liked, and I set about making breakfast. Coffee, bacon, eggs. I sat about waiting for the birthday festivities, periodically examining Facebook and my email, before cooking dinner for my good friend. There had been presents and cake, but all of us felt rather underwhelmed. There were no movies or party games, no friends gathered about the house for fun events. It was actually quite dull.
The highlight of my day had been the conversation on Facebook with my good friend on the opposite side of the country, but I felt nature interrupt me. A certain uncomfortable rumble made its presence known in my gut, and I decided prompt and decisive action was needed. I headed in to the bathroom, and raised the toilet lid.
The porcelain throne gazed at me, and next to it the cat’s litterbox. The prospect of a long duration next to that smell was not an enviable one, but I was
My demonLaying there, quietly, alone
The feeling of something is there, unseen, but there
I sit up, but my body remains laying down
As I shout "show yourself" the figure becomes more visible
I lay back down and see the creature standing there
Glowing eyes piercing through me, Head of a wolf, tall, very tall
Draped in a long black hooded cloak or robe
Its hands, I can never get those things out of my head as it reached for me
Long fingers, almost like claws that are twice as long as the finger as a man
This is what haunts me, this is what hunts me
It grows closer
Help me before it hurts me more
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More