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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
Reapers Of the Living :James:First Name: James
Last Name: Hyde
Nick Name: The Reaper
Weight: 196 lbs
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brown
Skin Color: Tan, White
Original Occupation: Hired Assassin
Reason for Imprisonment: Destroyed the Corporation that he worked for, killed the innocent.
Cause of Death: Suicide by explosion
Current Occupation: Reaper of the Living and Evil
Demon Name: He never wanted one
Powers: The ability to absorb energy from the surrounding environment, heightened reflexes, super sensitivity, non human speed and agility, the ability to heal within seconds and have no scars, non human strength, Able to use active camouflage and change his molecular structure so he can blend into surrounding environments, teleportation, when he has his demonic powers he is invulnerable to every weapon known to man, can control the path and direction of a bullet fired from any weapon, etc
Job Skills: Classified
Past Training: Classified
Family: Non existent
Reaping Attire: Heav
Snails!I was 8 years old and a generally average child. I was with my family in our backyard cooking out. It had just rained and all of the snails were out. Being the little explorer I was, I decided to walk around my yard and examine these little slimy things. Now, I'm not someone who believes in love at first sight, but this was a perfect example of it. I was so fascinated with the snails and my surrounding family members were completely confused as to why. Eventually, my 11 year old brother saw this as a keen chance to be a bully. He grabbed one of the snails I had and the container of salt we had laying out and tried to salt the poor thing. "Donovan no!", I yelled as loud as I could. Just then, my father grabbed the salt out of my brother's hand and began to chew him out, "YOUR LITTLE SISTER REALLY LIKES THESE SNAILS AND YOU SHOULDN'T BE TRYING TO TAKE THEM FROM HER, YOUNG MAN!", he barked. Needless to say, my slimy friend lived to see another day.
After all of this, snails became a big d
creon's pride got the better of medead so very dead. school is bad for my brain it is killing my NEURONS. curse our forefathers who hath bestowed upon us the curse of the SCHOOL SYSTEM. how bitter good intentions become sour milk. unnecessary and bad for the health. o is there no refuge at home. thy father and mother arrested for one’s own actions. can they not see that we learneth not? cram information before the eyes to cover the evil of one’s country. o sad day, o sad days. jhsd why why why but if i go home kids so MANY FORSAKEN KIDS screaming and tattling and crying and whining make them STOP. to be angry with a woman who has homicidal thoughts of her own child, THOU HAS NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH CHILDREN THEN. they are no angels, they are hell-spawn reliving their days of the underworld in cramped schools, having to compete against each other for love, an emotion nonexistent in this world of ours. O SAD DAYS O SAD DAYS. may the sobbing be loud for such sufferable days. o sad days o sad days
My Awesome LP IntroductionHello, all.
I'm Jen – Jencity, though I'll answer to either. My base stats are as follows: mid-twenties, American, Pacific time zone, college graduate.
I graduated earlier this year with bachelor's degrees in English and religious studies; I focused, primarily, on 18th century and pre-Christian literature. I used to fancy myself a poet, but I've since come to know better. In my free time, I pose as a freelance writer and editor. I've been writing and editing for pay for... two years? Maybe three now. None of my own work has been published, though I have edited work that is now in publication.
Comics are a passion of mine. I grew up on old X-Force and Excalibur comics. (Yeah. So hardcore nerd that I bypassed X-men altogether.) I'm currently working on writing a comic script of my own. The biggest challenge I've found in that is funding the artist. Because, I mean, money.
I'm sarcastic and usually pretty straight forward. I hate pussy-footing around. If I have an opinion, I give it
RemembranceI used to pass an old lady on my way to school.
She used to smile at me, and me at her.
Sometimes we said 'hello'.
She used to wear a purple blazer.
Something else was purple. Her legs.
They were covered in purple spots.
Or were they bruises?
I used to wonder about them as a kid.
Did they hurt? Why were they there?
I was too polite to ask.
I still wonder about that old lady.
Is she even still alive?
She doesn't know a little girl she passed every morning is remembering her.
I used to pass a block of flats on my way to school.
There was a girl who lived in one of them.
She reminded me of A Little Princess.
Her hair was short and black, like Sara Crewe.
She used to smile at me, and me at her.
One day we waited together for the library to open.
She said her baby sister loved the book I was holding.
I wanted to ask her what books she loved.
But I was too shy.
I still wonder about that girl.
Does she still like to read?
She doesn't know a little girl she spoke to at the library is rememberi
An AnecdoteThere once was a girl who grew up in a library. She read thousands of books over the course of her life, and loved every one. Fiction, non-fiction, she loved them all. Every time she stepped into a library or a book store, she instantly felt at home. All those stories, clamoring for attention, aching to find their way into the hands of willing readers and transport those readers for a brief (or extended) period of time, making their day brighter. She helped whenever she could. She was always reading, always lost in a story.
This girl loved school. She loved learning, anything and everything, and she soaked up the knowledge her teachers gave her like a plant soaks up sunrays. At the end of her sixth grade year, she was voted most likely to be a librarian. And she embraced that title, making it her first email address, and labelling all the books she owned as part of her library. She allowed her family to check out books from the library, provided they wrote down the name of the b
Bad-Ass In A Blue Suit Seriously, if I had a good picture of me in my suit, I'd include it in this blurb; as I do not have such a photo, you'll just have to trust me when I break out into song and sing that, "NOTHING SUITS ME LIKE A SUIT!" I am a firm believer that clothes say a decent amount about a person, and this cobalt-blue suit of mine is perhaps the greatest example within my own wardrobe.
Honestly, the physical form of the suit is perfect; the collar is not ridiculous and flaring, there is no strange shoulder padding or imbalance, the pants are simple masculine slacks, and it fits me just right; in black, it would look just like a regular suit. The color, however, stands out like... well, like a suit on a college campus; there's nothing like it in sight. It's that strange new perspective on an old favorite, a classic idea with a modern and refreshing twist. I like to think about my writing in a similar manner; returning to the older style of more be
Sara's Stories: The Metal RoosterSara's Stories | Episode 5: The Metal Rooster
Here's yet another childhood memory that has been clinging to my mind lately, and it's kinda funny...
It was around 2003, when I was about nine or ten years old at the time, and I was shopping at Wal-Mart with my parents. My father was in the grocery area while my mom and I were in the other side of the store. In the home and garden area, I spotted this decorative metal rooster statue. It was basically hollow and made with thin but sturdy metal, and maybe about 18 in. tall. I noticed that the rooster statue had some "feathers" partially protruding off of his neck, and I just happened to pluck at one of the feathers, and... well, before I tell you about what happened, I must explain that I have hypersensitive hearing, and while really loud sounds can greatly frighten me, there are also certain unusual sounds that I sometimes find absolutely hysterical, so... when I plucked at the metal rooster's "feathers," they made the
Sugary Boner Lover I deleted you from my contacts, but a moment later your phone number showed up on my screen. You were whispering to me through digital transmissions, sheepishly pleading to see me again. But you’re not a person. You’re just a number, a fragment, a thin layer of unsavory lettuce wedged between two thick slices of peppered pastrami in an overly cumbersome sandwich.
I turn away, bloated. No more. I’m full. Please take the plate away, I say, trying to remember what it ever felt like to be hungry, as everyone does after a big meal. The waitress saunters around the counter and places the bill before me, and I look up from my phone for the first time in nearly half an hour. Her eyes are filled with benign mischief, the kind of gossipy curiosity you can only spot in someone who has tirelessly spent hours in an existential haze of wiping dried egg off of table tops. “What’s that?” she asks, her eyes glancing at th
Words About MeSo, this is an introduction?
I'm not too good with these; most often my entrance never has the flair I feel it needs. Other times, it just feels pretentious. So most likely, this will either be dull, or pretentious, or possibly even both.
The name's Rhetoricism, and naturally, I make words. Monologues, sci-fi, mystery, and a lot of lighthearted prosery. I am not, however, the sort of person who can live an entire life in their own heads; where I am matters a lot to me.
I am a wanderer; an incessant traveler with itchy feet and a pressing desire to see what's beyond the next hill. I thrive off variety, nuance and all things quirky; staying in once place for too long leads to stagnation.
Writing is not my only love, but it is my first. I started young, and though I've spent much of my time resting on the laurels of young-acquired ability, recently I've delved back into the idea that there is always more to learn, as, of course, there is.
I spend my time performing entirely too muc
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
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More