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Stardust Avengers, chapter 1 It was a starry night. Not all of them were, but on this particular night, over the city skies and all across the towns and grassy fields, this was a starry night. The typical smog and lights made it hard to see the night canvas that made itself seen this evening. City dwellers had no need to look up at the sky anyway, and even if they did, all that would be seen was the choking fumes that billowed overhead with the city lights reflecting off of it. That's how things were in Farcliff City. Elsewhere, the starry sky was a beautiful tapestry of white paintbrush spatter on black canvas for those of the suburban towns and further beyond those houses, out in the farms, where the moon was never brighter and the stars never shined brighter than on this particular night.
It was close to midnight, on a night where the moon was just past full, and receding into a waning gibbous, and Billy Sharpe sat on the wooden porch built by his grand-daddy many years ago. The house
The Skyblazer, chapter 1The Skyblazer
The fields of grass all around moved like waves on the ocean as wind blew over each long strand of grass. The fields were impossibly wide with impossibly high mountain ranges on the horizon in almost every direction. The Falling Skies, was what the fields were called. During the rain season these fields would barely resemble grass and would appear more like a lake, or more like a bowl full of water, with the mountains playing the part of the bowl.
However, this was the season of the sun and sky.
The Falling Skies were aptly named for the gravity defying geometrics at work. Above the fields and mountains were what appeared to be mountains hanging in suspension, only they were upside down and large castles were built atop these hanging monuments, and carried by imaginary strings being held by the gods. There were three castles hanging in the sky with clouds rolling overhead. Two of them laid in The Falling Skies, and one was far to the south of these great plains. It was fr
Victims of Progress: Part OneVictims of Progress
Part One: Genetic Perfection
The lab of Dr. Marcus Gregor had all of the lights off except for the dim blue glow of a large cylinder, about twenty inches in diameter and seven feet tall. The bald headed man stood with one hand pressed against the azure colored tube and the other hand rubbing his short tuft of brown chin hair. Behind him was his large oak desk with his leather arm chair pushed in. His desk was littered with the paperwork he had been agonizing over since the sun had set. He had been so distracted with his work that he had not noticed the sun setting on the fifth floor of the building where he worked, named GENCORP #1.
His paperwork, the paperwork he damned for hours as his aged mind ran over all the calculations. Every test, every measure, and every study he had conducted over the course of eight months. In those eight months of time, he had been running the temperatures of the blue fluid running through this monolith that inhabited his working chambe
Casual Ties, chapter 4 'Grease'Uncle Mark and I were sitting in traffic the next morning. We hadn’t said much that morning since I told him I wanted to meet these friends of his. I meant this on a more personal level than the previous encounter we had, where they more or less introduced themselves before lighting a bonfire. I still held my strong reservations towards the Casual Ties, but I was more willing to affiliate myself with them than I was before. Getting high with Ash helped me too.
After enough time had passed, Mark looked to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. His hands were always cold, which made sense now that I knew his nickname. He rarely showed emotion, but it was clear he was trying to get me to come around. “Hey, relax a bit will you? Look, I know this is difficult to understand and cope with. We were all there once. You’ll be better off if you try to make friends with them. The whole group is worth getting to know. Now that you’re eighteen we can even take you to Big Tony&
Four Paws, chapter 6Midnight’s slender figure sat at the kitchen table. Her solid black fur had a fine sheen to it, like polished ebony rock. Even from afar I could see the fine contours of her shape. Her round hips and toned legs sitting snug in a pair of dark denim jeans. As a married man I knew better than to think about her in such an inappropriate manner, but as a red blooded male I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander just a bit. She looked great, especially for someone who gave birth to three sons. I forgot for a moment what I was supposed to be doing, besides admiring Midnight from afar. Her hands were busy however. She had a pair of knitting needles in her hands and seemed to be making something with yarn. A coiled up ball of red yarn rolled around on the floor as she worked. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? Vulpine hands aren’t the most dexterous with our long palms, but Midnight was spinning a weave of yarn anyway.
Eventually I moved into the kitchen where she
Four Paws, chapter 5The snow continued to envelop the skies in its pure white maelstrom of powder. It had only increased in viciousness since I arrived in the home of Fang and Midnight. It was night. At night you couldn’t see much further than the end of your nose when it was snowing. I very vividly remember the sharp stinging cold of a silent midnight trek through the vast white veil, being pulled by the scruff of my young neck by my father.
As I grew older, his patience with me started to unwind faster with each passing day. I was too skinny, weak, and cowardly. I was still a young pup after all. I didn’t know what was expected of me, but my father had an idea of who I should have been. He wanted to raise a fierce alpha male, and felt rather disappointed when he saw how mother protected me from the harsh cold.
It was a night as dark and cold as tonight. I felt my father’s huge teeth squeeze the back of my neck; pinching me ever so slightly, and pulling me to my paws. The frigid snow nu
Fallen... Chapter 1Though the morning did start off rather rocky, I felt my spirits start to rise as did the morning sun. It helped a great deal that I started to feel more awake, though the pain in my shoulder helped that a great deal. I hooked my silver sword on my hip and was started to head out the door. My room was on the far end of the hall, which leads to a set of two identical staircases that bent opposing each other and lead to the foyer of my father’s castle. The Cameron family has lived in this estate for a dozen generations, and I am the second eldest son to my father, Lord Hyatt Cameron, and my loving mother Lorane, whose maiden name was Rose.
The foyer had many long winding halls for guests to be lead through the castle when my father was busy entertaining foreign diplomats or friends of the family. I can’t remember how many times my mother had all of us bathe and dress nice to impress our father’s stuffy guests. I often wondered why they bothered pulling us out in order t
Fallen... PrologueIt was about ten past the hour, god how I hated being up this early in the morning. I was awoken by the sounds of my brother Jared pounding on my bedroom door. I could hear him yelling for me but his voice was muffled by the thickness of my chamber door. I had told him several times not to bother me like this, though it seems that being a Lord’s son demands I be up and ready when the sun rises in the morning. Though with nobody in the room to hear my mumbling lamentations, I pulled myself out of bed and sighed, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window, seeing the orange morning sun peaking over the hills like a fresh orange peel.
The bedroom door opened and Jared entered, not knowing that I had heard him and was starting to get up anyway. Jared is half a year older than me, but he’s at least a foot taller. The family liked to joke that I was the runt, since I was the shortest of three brothers and the thinnest. Jared had packed on a few pounds since the last winter. I cou
Crazy AngelThere was a black angel in the heavens
Those who witnessed her were captivated
By such stunning beauty she did portray
She would catch their glances as she walked by
She would pull up her tattered hood and hide
She knew why everyone stared at her face
They could not believe what they were seeing
An ugly face in this pristine heaven
She hated when people called her pretty
Because she knows the truth about herself
That she is not beautiful, but ugly
Nobody can tell her that she is not
Why does a pretty angel hate herself?
God hopes she'll see the truth about her face
She is a lovely and crazy angel
I Built A HouseI built a house
Of stone and sweat
Loftily held together
By thousand of memories.
Within my stone stock-hold
Held some piece of me
And I hoped
It would hold you too,
That it would embrace you
And you would see the beauty
To be found in its stony arms
Cracks and crevices.
And though try as I am
This isn't what you see
What your willing to believe.
All you see are stone walls
Surrounding an empty place
Blocking your view of the sea.
I built a house
Of stone and sweat
To hold you close to me,
Meant to be a home
For our hearts with windows
So we could always
View our sea.
But instead I built walls
And a house of stone and sweat
To build you a home.
UnspokenFor the love
I never shared.
For the things
I'll never tell.
For all the secrets
Big and small.
For the times
I ignored the calls.
For all the words
I left unspoken.
I'm now drowning
In my emotions.
ConfessionI never really expected us to last
Never truly thought we'd make it
Cause when I surrendered my heart to you
I was fully convinced you'd break it
The Wasteland Of Your YouthListen to the words that rest easiest in your heart
‘A boy is coming that will change everything
With seven shades of emerald green in his eyes
One kiss from his lips will end your suffering
And he’ll wake you with a whisper from this nightmare
Prising the hands of hindsight from around your throat
While endeavouring to burst these unwanted thought bubbles
Before they have even had a chance to float
He’ll help you prick them with his narcoleptic needle
So you can fall back in to the limbo of your dreams
Where each lake of loathing can lead to endless love
But only through a passage of patience upstream
Take caution though as the resistance of the current
Is akin to the resistance he feels from you
To open those brown eyes that you’ve hidden so safely
Behind the flooded wasteland of your youth
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
μέσα στο χάος του κενού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
εκεί στο πάτο του βυθού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
σ' όλα τα αστέρια του ουρανού.
Rub'i of DisillusionYou ask of my health, and my well being -
I smile, reply; for what you are seeing
foreshadows what I am, disillusioned:
What I imagined in you... gone... fleeing
RomanticismIn the slightest ray of delighted light,
I hold my wetted savior to my eyes,
And think of all that once I might
Have lost in my strenuous tries.
Through beauty and agony I see
The confusion of smoky bliss
Even as it may only be
My loveliest hour and my last night's kiss.
SwaddledWhen born and swaddled in mother's arms
to them our eyes hold infinite possibilities
Our innocence shines but for a sec
Soon stained with sin's misdeeds
We grow and change from who we were
Into ourselves which we now know
Far from the swaddled child, so soon after birth
And far from our parent's goal...
Un-CoupletThere are scissors on the floor;
They could hurt me.
There are baskets by the door;
They are the enemy.
There are claws in my thighs;
I feel them tearing.
There is light that will arise;
I feel it glaring.
There is whispering in my head;
I hear them calling.
There are sharpened pieces of lead;
I hear them falling.
I want to cry; I want to die;
Save me from my own sad lie.
The Lady of PainShe is the Lady of Pain
She wears a broken mask
She stands out in the Rayne
She wants to make it last
Her name is written in blood
She is the Lady of Pain
She smiles under her hood
Her blood runs down the drain
Forgiveness is her bane
Walls crumble around her
She is the Lady of Pain
She is cursed to always remember
When you see her soft hair
You'll always know her name
She is lovely and fair
She is the Lady of Pain
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More