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Drug Raid in a Lighting storm.The atmosphere crackled with the aftermath. A sulphurous tinge lay on the edge of their scent, announced by the rain that started to hit their vests like bullets.
The barrels of guns were pointed at closed doors. Taut muscles shivered in frozen anticipation, the heavy rain plucked at their nerves until they could hear themselves crackling within.
A roaring white lined the figures of ten men. From their parted lips, breath mingled with the new wave of burnt air. A metallic taste settled on their tongue, a wisp of nervous blood swirled in their mouths.
Light beyond the windows glowed like embers. The silhouettes of guns were twirled like whip handles. As lightning passed, the outline of rabid, shouting mouths were accompanied by raucous shouts that ascended like a kettle on the boil.
Names passed venomously, the drunken stupors of arrogance and fury grew darker and denser. Lighting struck again, twice at once. Like whips frayed from one strike too many.
Writers Block- 265 wordsLines of gibberish are scrawled on the white paper. Symbols mesh with matted letters and numbers, her trembling hands cause the ink to bristle.
Her mind‘s bile is on the paper, confused, misspelt. Small hints of lucidity fly fleetingly, escaping birth with their cruel wile.
But there is no flawless verse, only the half skinned, half boned ideas of corpses slain in some inner battle, mangled by the pressure of their expulsion, her curse.
She throws herself against a wall. Black is hurled on the paper as black rage flows through her veins. Her visions vainly call.
Her ideas are crumpled for their imperfections, the orb of cracked hopes rolls to the littered floor.
On the mountain top of excellence, all the Greats beckon; unrolling their long, well acclaimed scrolls. She climbs in vain against the pull of a wallowing oblivion.
An icy void hollows her fingers and warps the words that arise. The emptiness crystalizes, staunching the flow of her thoughts. Snatches of slowly suffocating
Farmer's musingThere is a dream I cannot escape. A dream where my fields of plump corn shimmer and glint like a river of gold. Between a regal blue sky and gilded stalks, these colours of kings lull me further into the dream.
Then the alarm clock rings, it is a complaint and not a greeting, a prod to move my mind from my dream to the stark reality.
My young corn has prematurely aged, what should be a pale green sheen is a yellow, mottled paper crunching under my grasp like a child's fragile bones. It's drooping into the cracks as if it wants to return to its mother earth. But that earth is dead, broken under the heavy hands of greed.
Frost and fire comes and ravages cities and farms because of earth's waxing anger and quaking stability. But the only green things talked about are green dollars.
Politicians, sleek in word and gesture mesmerize all with honeyed words of support and unity. They are the proudest leaders in fair weather and the most debase deserters in foul storms. Their promises are the b
TSFS Chapter 4 part 1Janile pored over the data pad with hungry care, the days and nights passing like dreams. Sometimes, as Kass leaned in her doorway and watched her obliviously focusing on that pale glowing screen, he wondered if there was something else between her and this Revan: It was a question he would not ask, because he knew she would not answer.
One day, she called them together, and sitting at the head of the table, laid down the datapad looking upon it with sleep-starved eyes misty with joy.
"I know where Revan is." She smiled wanly.
"Where Revan could be." corrected Mission. "I want to find Rev just as much as you, but raising your hopes will never guarantee you results."
"Don't paint the Sith on the wall Mission, it is a glimmer of hope, I will not let you take that from me." She said lowly, as if she was a starved dog snarling at a rival for her bone.
Silence: the monster had manifested in her insecurity, and everyone now saw the shame that painted her face crimson.
Silieth- Contest entry- Theme- Relationships.It was a sea composed of the people who were missing the last piece of their lives; each one of these lost, lonely people with a puzzle piece instead of a hand, waiting to lock into another and complete themselves.
Some of them walked mournfully though the crowd with limbs splintered from a combination that violently failed. Some of them were still struggling to keep their hands together, their bodies quaking as their pieces started to slip each other's grasp.
As the creamy mass of people clotted and separated with time, most of the torn limbs were healed, but in some, the cracks crept insidiously to their core, and soon the fractured body crumbled as they screamed in silence.
He walked through the crowd with a splintered, quivering arm, injured horribly from a separation, and still trying to beckon his other half who was swallowed by the blankness.
Far away in another quarter of searching and broken people, She had tried hard to keep their pieces together, but he had left with a clear
A writers wings.An egg cracked; the ivory orb splintered as each delicate limb stretched out of its prison. The translucent fetus writhed in the warm morning air, and when the sunny beak finally found its voice, he screamed.
The pen scratched the paper, her unsure hands trembling as she imprinted her amateurish thoughts on the parchment, her ideas like a premature babe.
Days and nights circled the forest like dancing lovers; he cried with delight as his mother brought him the savory inhabitants of the forest, each rosy and plump piece of flesh feathering his wings and strengthening the flexible muscle beneath his gauzy skin.
She devoured the advice of others and thought of her ideas. She nursed her premature babe with the nourishment of experience borrowed from the wise script of the ancients.
He clambered to the edge of the nest, his vivid claws clasping the russet network of twigs as he peered below him: It was a world of luscious green, mottled with the rich ebony of fertile soil and
Tossed Salad.Shafts of illuminated rays stretched across the room, white bed sheets reflected the suns glory until it radiated like a holy veil. A pair of ebony eyelashes flicked off the lead of sleep; limbs stretched across the sprawled sheets and hands gathered folds which formed milky waves.
Bare feet floated above the floor before touching down, drowsy steps dragging across it before a splash of reality washed away the misty remnants of sleep.
The sun had bid the world a grand greeting and was now steadily curving across the sky. A bicycle was seen darting along the black tar. Porcelain hands grasping ebony handlebars as if she would be swept away as the world passed her.
She parked, tires warm and sticky from the heat, and walked into the vaulted market, an open cathedral for the reaped goods.
The beams of the building were skeletal, glowing with sunlight that cascaded through seams and slits in the roof until it looked as if the plump produce was streaked with molten gold.
Crimson apples nest
Sculpture.It started out as a block of stone, waiting to be born into something immortal that would last centuries of snow and sun. The vision in my mind was still blurry, I could hardly believe that this crass and blank stone could be molded into delicate cloth folds that formed mysterious shadows or delicate brows that either arched in laughter or furrowed in anguish.
I molded the shadows of my thoughts into the material; yet even after I had given it an echo of form it was still a faceless glob, uncertain of its future, and unsure of its steps.
My world rotated through sunny days and snowy hours. My hand kept on cultivating the white sterile stone, its hardness mocked me, soft tinkles of the hammer could not break its stubbornness. I forced upon it the stern and steady pounding of a chisel; stony flakes floating away on an unseen breeze.
When the sunlight reflected off my growing creation, my heart warmed with the pleasure of achievement, but clouds
(Req) Methods of Communication (Canada x Reader)
"Ahh! Oh no!"
Pausing mid-sip of your drink, you glanced up.
Matthew Williams, probably one of the most discussed guys in your year at college, was standing a ways across from where you swear, beneath a large oak tree that had likely been planted there when the college was first built. Its great height and width stood as a testament to just how much both it and the college itself had grown since their beginning. From the distance you stood, it looked like Matthew had dropped a folding, sending a wad of papers scattered about his sneakered feet like giant, grounded butterflies. He hastily crouched, grabbing at the papers haphazardly, in a desperate attempt to stop them from being swept away by the breeze snaking its way between the buildings, but taking care not to crumple or rip the pages.
One paper, however, missed his frantic fingers and zoomed off, carried away by the air current. You glanced down, jolting slightly in surprise at the paper slapped into the leg of your jeans. Bending
AlliesXDead!Reader: I didn't notice , I love you~At The Allies Meeting..........
Here we are at the Allies' Meeting well it wasn't much of a meeting all of them were just sulking. Why? Its because a girl named (y/n) had died they had accused her of killing Kyra Vaski the personification of Pangea .
Russia smelled like Vodka and the sunflowers he has have all wilted he had spent most of his days at a bar drinking until he passed out.
France had stopped flirting and smelled like vomit like Russia he drank much to his heart Content.
America had stopped calling himself a hero , he didn't even dare to eat a burger like the two he hasn't eaten anything except for beer.
England the man who claimed he was a gentleman and hated it when his brothers came home drunk but now he was drunk himself , he even burned all of his books.
And lastly China the most cheerful and self proclaimed big brother of the Asians was sad but at least he wasn't the worst the only thing he drank was water.......
The Allies were having a m
Reader x Trickster!Nepeta: Egg Coloring"EY YO BITCHIE-"
"Oh my god she's still alive are you kidding me?"
Your name is ___ ___ and your... matesprit, Nepeta Leijon, Tac as you call her, is frantically pounding on your door.
"BITCHIE LEMME IN I REALLY NEED TO MAKE PLANS WITH MEW AND YOUR CUTE BUTT."
"Do we have to?" you groaned. You were literally laying on the floor of your cute little one-story apartment. Your Siamese cat, Simi, licked your nose. Simi was fond of the troll and in return, the troll was fond of Simi.
"Uh. Well not really but I'd sure as hell purrefur mew did." you heard her make a face. "And befur mew ask, no I didn't kill anyone this time. Da po-po let me furreeeeee~" the Trickster chirped.
"Fine." you simply said, wiggling over to the door and sitting up, staring at the oversized wood plank. "What's the password?"
"THERE'S A PASSWORD?!"
You stifled a laugh, merely smirking and standing up, stepping back to dodge the olive blood's attempted tackle-pounce as you opened the door. "Hello t
AmericaxReader - Letting Go Is Never Easy
“Hey, can I talk to you?”
Right there. Definitely. That was the moment I wish I could take back.
We had just gone on our first date two days before. He treated me to a movie with extra buttery popcorn and a sugar cookie from Great American Cookie Company. It was fun, now that I look back on it. We made smart-aleck comments and tried to subdue our laughter throughout the whole movie, and we just talked in his car when we pulled into the driveway in front of my house. We talked about funny stuff we did in grade school, and his cousin was brought up at some point. And at the end of the date, I did something neither one of us expected: I kissed him.
As we were getting out of his car at my house, I leaned over and planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. I didn’t know if it was right, considering I had never kissed someone in my entire life. It made me a little apprehensive and shaky when I was stepping inside my house, and for a while I even reprimanded mys
Levi x Reader: After All This Time? (10) It was an early morning. A girl no less than 10 woke up. She yawned in her bed, the early morning rays breaching her small window. She was very beautiful and mature for the early age of 10. But she was sick. Not the sickness which attaches itself to the body though. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow (A/N: Any fans of 'The Hobbit' reading this?'). Under that sweet, adorable exterior; was a dangerous creature.
She went down her bed, quietly as to not wake up her sleeping brother in the other room. She was going to check if her mother was home. Due to her job at the local hospital, she would come home late at times. She approached her parents' room when she heard noises. They were quite familiar to her ears by the time, but she wanted to see if the story was any different. She opened the door slightly, allowing her eyes to take in the scene before her. It was her father, Lewis in bed w
Easter Sexy - TGMy mother buttoned up my shirt, shaking her head because I kept pulling away. I hated having my shirt buttoned up, so I would always undo the buttons. Before I could undo them, my mother handed me a little green weaved basket with my name on the side. Immediately, I knew what time it was and I jumped in place. “Easter eggs, Easter eggs, Easter eggs!”
My mother laughed and my shirt into my jeans, kissing my forehead and standing up, taking my tiny hand. “Yes, it’s time for the Easter egg hunt, and this year we hid more eggs than we have ever done before. So hopefully you get lots and lots of candy.” Her comment just made me pull on her arm harder, wanting her to start moving. “Alright, calm down Jacob.”
Finally, my mother started moving out of the room and where all of my cousins were waiting. I broke away from my mom and ran to my favorite cousin, Elise. We hugged each other and started telling stories while we waited for our aunts and uncles t
A Southern Story: Chelsea at the supermarketHey! How you doing, I haven’t seen you since before the reception!
Aww, that’s good to hear, glad everything’s going okay for you! Me? Oh, I’m just bracing myself for this coming football season. I got stuck in charge of the cheerleaders again, and you know how that turned out LAST year. Put all that effort into getting skinny, ah, well, you know, not quite so hugely fat, and they all looked at me doing that and went back to stuffing their faces.
I’ve already made up my mind, I’m not even going to try this year to make these girls lose any weight. It's down to them, if they want to look good, they can stop stuffing their greedy little faces. If they want to make terrible messes out of themselves, then go ahead, have that fourth plate of nachos. I’m just gonna sit back and let them do it.
We had our first meeting last week and guess who just waltzed in ten minutes late, shoving a Hershey’s bar in her face? Kaitlyn O’Leary, reme
A Southern Story: Tori's RealizationOh, hey.
Ah, nothing much, I just figured, you know. It's a nice day to do some sunbathing, better not waste it. What's up with you? How you been?
Ah, good for you, glad to see SOMEBODY'S been having a good time recently. . .
Ah, no, no, it's nothing big, I've just been having a rough time the past few months.
You probably heard by now, right? Well. . . It's true, I broke 200 pounds. That's old news, though.
You want to know about the most RECENT kick in my super-sized ass? Well. . . Eh, screw it, it's not like you won't hear it from someone else anyway.
I went to the doctor the other day, already knowing I was over 200, I'd weighed myself a few weeks before, and I was something like 202. That was bad, you know, I had a whole “OH MY GOD I BROKE 200!' thing. Elizabeth being Elizabeth, she had to mess with me, throw me a party to celebrate my being fat, but honestly, I kind of chalked it up to, I dunno, natural weight fluctuations or something, but what that doctor was tellin
The Shrine Maiden
It was a cold December night. At an old shrine by a river, drummers beat an ancient rhythm. Lanterns burned brightly, illuminating the paths between the many stalls hastily assembled around it. Children flocked from game to game, an old priest sold protective amulets, and local artists displayed their work. Schoolgirls trilled like songbirds. A young couple shared an order of takoyaki. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten that day.
At the time, I was a young freeter, drifting from job to job with the seasons. My previous employer had let me go two weeks before the festival, and my savings were running low. Even the internet cafe where I usually slept would become too expensive before long. Needless to say, I hadn't stopped by the festival to sample its overpriced food and souvenirs. I had a different objective in mind.
On most nights, the shrine grounds had no cover to hide a 174-cm man with a backpack. On mos
Final ThoughtsMy trinkets and pictures are scattered around my shelves, at every turn photographs appear like small wormholes to the past, trinkets lie gathering dust like forgotten relics.
They are not dear, for they are weak imitations of the emotion felt in those times. Terrified of losing those sweet moments I attempted to preserve them in tangible things. Of these I have many, and confident of their immortality I had allowed the real to slip away from thought. My life is a swirling mass of memory; I lie here and remember little , save the few orbs of the sweetest remembrance like pearls glistening in a pile of decayed rubbish.
Eighty years of life wasted away in the cell I called life, even the gems of my thoughts are darkened, and it is not because death's shadow is finally looming great over me. They are flawed, incomplete, small faceless blobs that send only pleasant warmth rippling through my heart. I am grasping for sharper images, reaching in the dark for an ethereal thought that only exh
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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