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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
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.
the girl - isome days the girl does not know where she starts and where she ends. her being seems to be
stretched out between too many variables. her mind clinging to the sensation of a child's wish;
stretching out her arms so that they may be long enough to grasp a piece of the sky and hold
a sense of wonder in her hands.
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
Death Diary (Entry 50)
You’ll have to forgive the brevity of this entry, as I am still very busy. The cold and flu season may be over with, but that doesn’t mean I can slow down. I wanted to write this entry because I heard a very interesting quote not too long ago from a very popular movie you humans enjoy. It went “…A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You're a plague…” This was a quote from the Matrix that I heard…and to be quite honest with you I heard this and I busted out laughing. It takes quite a bit to make me laugh, and that…that was just hilarious. Humanity is a disease, is it? Right…let’s talk about what humanity is for a moment, shall we?
I’ve watched humanity from near the beginning of mankind all the way to now. There have been moments where my faith in humanity was shaken to a point that I too believed it might be best to destroy them. I have that capability…I could have done it
the girl - ii"will you stay this time", the girl can be caught whispering every once in a while,
when that foreign friend called "luck" comes calling. he is fickle like the first
spring breeze. still cold and swift, but with that promise of warmth we all seek.
he does not visit her often; or so it sometimes seems to the girl with day-dream
eyes. but despite it all, she keeps clinging to that one hope: that one day luck
will be here to stay.
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'
Genesis, Remastered“People are awfully two-dimensional these days,” said Eve, lounging on the couch. Her husband, perched next to her, grunted. He was absorbed in his iPad. “Adam?”
“You’re so passive.”
Eve sighed, regarding her husband’s skeletal form. “I’ll take the rubbish out.” She rose, leaving a large indent. The kitchen was a foul assortment of littered table tops and half-eaten take-aways, neglected by Adam and devoured by Eve. Hoisting the rubbish bag – full to bursting – over her shoulder, Eve trundled into the front garden and dumped it on the side of the street to fester.
Hands on her hips, she was about to turn away when a black cat hurtled across her path and dug sharp claws into the rubbish bag. It pulled its paws apart and week-old food spilled across the pavement. Eve sprang back and, losing her balance, and fell to the ground. The moon smiled down at her and she blinked, not botherin
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.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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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