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Lincoln LogsLincoln Logs, she said.
You dont like them?
She smoothed out the wrapping paper on her lap and frowned. I asked for that poetry book. You know, the one with the picture of the tree on the front?
And I had planned on getting it for her until I saw the little sticker with the price on the back.
You cant build a house out of poetry, I said.
She burst into tears, and I got the feeling it was the wrong thing to say.
The LispMarietta suspected strongly by the end of the week, but had little opportunity to pinpoint any proof. She spent every spare moment with Henry in the subtle pursuit of slipping him up, jarring the conversation into unexpected turns. Yes became a rather indifferent okay or alright, no matter how many different ways she managed to ask for affirmation. He veered around plurals and possessives as if they were road kill.
How many balloons are there? she asked.
Eight, said Henry.
Not seven? It looks to me like there are seven.
Henry stiffened but didnt back down. Huh. I thought I noted one more.
You mean you thought you spotted it? Saw it, maybe? Noticed it, even?
Henry tied the balloons to the chair and turned to face her.
I didnt note it, he said.
And that was the end of that.
Marietta wondered if she was the only one to detect
The Man in the Bowler HatIn his defense, the man at the door looked more pathetic to Lydia than a red sock on laundry day. He gripped the wet bowler hat with two clenched fists, dripping considerably on her Wipe Your Paws welcome mat. She had trouble keeping her eyes open long enough to glare at him.
Four in the morning, she said. You know, like the little hand on the four, except you have a tad trouble seeing it, what with it being dark outside?
Miss, I know it might come as a shock to you, but-
Shock? No. Surprisingly, things dont seem very shocking at you-must-be-kidding-me oclock. The milk hasnt even come yet. You have me up earlier than the milk.
The man with the bowler hat studied the dahlias hanging over the archway of the front door. They were salmon, the color of doubt. We found her, Miss. And she wants to see you. We found her and she wants to see you as soon as you can.
Lydia was already searching for her shoes
Her Name Was Celeste.The house's roof was dotted rows upon rows of flowers of Celeste blue while the specks of Coquelicot red hues splattered ontop the blossoms. A little girl, as fair as the snowflakes twirling out from our crystal silver dome, with hair in lavender sparkles, and Earth's coral reefs on her silky dress, smiled ever so gently and fell onto the velvets, her cushion.. her entrance to the afterworld. The flowerings absorbed her corpse and she found herself as one of the delicates. Here she was in the same place she had fell to her death seconds ago, and now she is given another life as a plant. Celeste gazed downwards from the rooftop and spotted children her age playing merrily on swings and slides, as well as parents hugging and running with their offspring. A need, a seed, grew intensely from her underlying point and the hunger of joy sprang up. Years after years, she was left in wonder silently looking around at her surroundings, seeing the little ones she used to play with grow up, having
Childish FearsChildish Fears
Doesn't it scare you that you're growing older, growing up? In days, months, years, you'll no longer be teenager. A fifth of your life will be over, and you'd be all grown up, stuffed in a suit with a tie around your neck, a briefcase in your hand and your whole life before you. Some people may think it appealing, but I don't.
I'm scared of leaving everything that's familiar behind.
I'm scared of having to fend for myself, for having to always be in control yet never really having any control.
But most of all, I'm afraid of being changed, of no longer being who I am.
Hunting„Mom, mom, look what I found. This flower. It remembers me of dad...Oh, no, don't start crying, I am sorry, I just did... I miss dad...”
I like this place, the sun is shining down between the big trees. Flowers and moss is at the ground. This whole place is shining. Golden. As if the sun fell down and made everything shining so beautiful. “I like this place mom. The grass looks so green and it is so tasty!”. Between my legs a butterfly is flying. A yellow one. It reflects the sun and it seems almost unnatural. This is a perfect day. That is a day that makes us remember why we live.
The deers, a mom and her son are in a wood. Nearly left behind, no humans are there. A truly peaceful place..
“Run, run my son, I'll come after you, don't stop, run!”
What? What is happening, I can't remember, why do I have to run. Run, run, I should, listen to my mom, why? Why?
a loud noise fills the air. All birds stopped singing, all animals hide. Even the smallest don'
Sunshine, rain, wind, hail, or snow, she was there. This colorfully dressed girl walked her dog down my childhood street every day, no matter the weather. Shorts, skirts, shirts, long sleeve shirts, tights, leggings, dresses, boots, flats, never flip flops though. Her hair never the same twice, always different in some way. Her dog on its long leash but always staying close. I saw her often, walking home from the bus stop. The leash always got caught under the dog’s legs, but she just laughed and smiled every time and untangled her pet. She was always smiling, humming or wearing big purple headphones, sometimes with an umbrella. Occasionally she’s spot me and wave, and I waved back. Her age was unknown to me, but in my young naiveté, everyone was old. I’ll always remember all the hues and shades she wore.
But one day, it was different. There was no color, no music, no hum. Just a girl in black, trudging along with her dog. I saw her less, and her look nev
It Isn't Easy “I don’t get it.”
She leaned her head back so that she was looking up at the sky. “What don’t you get?”
I waved my hands to try and string my thoughts together. “How…how can you just be so accepting of this?”
She laughed and turned to look at me. I’d always wished I had her eyes, especially when she smiled like that. “Oh trust me, sissy, I’m not quite to the point of acceptance yet.”
“But you’re so calm about it. I mean, if it was me, I’d have been about to beat someone up.”
“I was pissed off, that’s for sure.” She paused a moment before continuing. “But being angry is just so draining, you know? Plus, it’s just too easy.”
I glanced at her then, confused. “Easy?”
“Yeah.” She gazed up at the sky again, wavy ha
Carpenters and CradlesAutumn, Year 758 of the New Age
The Great Oak, Glenmore
Princess Glenda, Faulkner (NPC) and Donder (NPC)
Glenda's mother always used to tell her silly stories of monsters. She never believed in them, knowing full well the only beasts were stags in rut and stray foxes.
But she thought twice as she lay beneath her favorite wisteria tree, fretting that the chill autumn rain mussed her mane and dampened her curls into a soggy, grayish mass. The sound started out much like a newborn's heart-beat; faint at first, then it grew to a dull roar.
The princess bolted to her feet, shooting from the glade just in time to be thrown headlong into the grass as a monstrous bellow shook the ground.
Glenda scrambled to get her footing, eyes as wide as the opening sky, opened to see the giant set ablaze.
The Great Oak. It was on fire.
Horror dawned upon the doe as soon as the smell engulfed her- charred wood and smoke, swirling up into the clouds with a scream as half of the oak tumbled, the sickening smac
In Roman Times"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," declared the preacher.
The warm sun was starting to go down. Evening was closing in, yet the crowd still listened to the preacher, captivated by his lessons.
"Blessed are the pure in heart," he continued. "For they shall see God."
Some distance away, two women stood apart from the crowd. They wore the attire of wealthy Roman aristocrats. Veils shrouded their pale skin from the sun.
"Mother, this is the third day you have dragged me into the burning sun to listen to this warm Jew," complained one of them.
"Oh, Julia, aren't you delighted by his words? Don't they stir such a passion in your undead heart? I could listen to this man forever," said Penelope.
"He has a way of putting things, I admit. But it's all the usual Jewish nonsense. Kingdom of God, and all that. I'm a Roman. It's really not for me," replied Julia.
"You should not despise the Jews. They believe in just one god. Many of the philosophers agree that there is only on
To live among the starsA gunshot.
You feel your body hit the ground.
Your life flashes before your eyes, the happy times, the sad times, and all the moments in between.
You are dead before you know it.
Everything is black for a moment.
Is this heaven? you ask yourself.
When your vision finally adjusts, you look around to see the most beautiful sight.
Millions upon millions of stars and planets and galaxies.
You had always dreamed of seeing it.
Upon further inspection you find that there are people here.
Friends, family, and strangers alike who had all died once upon a time.
You begin to wonder...
What's happening on Earth?
Your thoughts turn to your friends and family
Still living in that world.
You feel a slight tinge of regret.
How do they feel?
They've probably discovered your body by now.
They're probably crying and blaming themselves for not being there when you needed them.
And looking around at this beautiful place only makes you r
Made in HollandI had never heard of a music box before she let me hold it. She said it felt too cliché to be real, and thats how she knew that there wasnt any such thing. But I could feel its weight in my hands and hear the tinny tune of its labor, and I started to think that maybe she was wrong.
She said you couldnt trust a musician, and thats all it was. A tiny, plastic, fake of a musician. She even said the sticker on the back had lied, and that it probably wasnt Made in Holland. Probably not any of the other European tourist countries, she said.
When it got so cold that we couldnt feel our fingertips and the sky hurt to look at, I played the music box and pretended I was Made in Holland too.
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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