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Sorry for what? Last night, I looked out side into the cascading snow.There, stooped on a mound, was a creature. With arms and legs like any man but it was just too frail. Its shoulder blades looked close to tearing out of the pale mesh that served as its skin. Each rib was defined to a grotesque degree. It sat there, stark naked in the cold as snow covered its hallow shoulders.its face was hidden by its hands and what they held.
I covered my mouth at the sight of this morbid creature. As I did so, said creature presented its face to me.Slowly his body unfurled as he turned on the loose snow covered mound. lowering his hands and what they held. His face was elongated at the snout and held many sharp teeth. His skin was stretched over each sharp edge of his features.The pale flesh was so tortuously tight around his illuminated eyes that I surely believed he could not close them.His hair hung in dirty mats around his face and over his dark eyebrows. So much like &
A Hero full of Pride It's a shame to see something so strong at it lowest. It's a shame when you realise that the thing that you believe in the most is a mere human. Flesh and bone like you. The strength that, that one human holds is the strength of changing your world with their story. One slurred story fills your mind with wonders of days passed. One slurred story continuosly played forth, etches richly in your mind. All your hopes and dreams circle that one story.
The story is filled with such pride. So much pride that you feel proud to even repeat that story. So much pride that you weep at the loss of such a story. So Much Pride that the story seems unreal.
So much pride that the human who told it to you is not worthy enough to tell the story because they are a wreck , a mock of the hero. So much pride that it hurts to realise that it is a true story and that the time of the story has long passed.So much pride that it hurts to realise that no other being could possibly follow the same story line as
One Small StepWater.
If you're a strong swimmer it can be your greatest ally and if you're an aquaphobiac, then it is your arch-enemy.
It was grey and bleak. Calming but terrifying.
It remained completely still with the lights from the nearby lamp posts creating a soft orange glow across it's edge. The bridge hovered above it, showing it's superiority over the substance. And I remained on its shoulder.
I stood there, staring into the abyss that was calling me, begging to wrap its sweet arms around me while whispering sweet nothings.
Who would miss me? No one.
Nor would they care if I allowed myself to take one extra step.
But something was holding me back, like an invisible bungee cord that had been wrapped around my waist, forcing me away from the one thing I desired the most.
My friends were certainly not holding me back.
I only had a few but I still felt like the odd one out. I was the friend that would be replaced sooner or later. They would question me as to why I wore cardigans and hooded jump
Secrets of the Asylum Chapter 1: The Asylum GatesThe camera shows an image of a bridge leading to an imposing sandstone building with a white clock tower.
Vincent: The imposing structure dominates the town of Weston....Its empty today....and has been for over a decade...An erie silence hangs over these halls...But listen carefully, and you might hear wispers of a dark and painful past. The doctors have left,....The rooms are empty,....But strangely these halls are not entirely silent. Perhaps some of the secrets will be revealed....If you listen closely.
Secrets of the Asylum.
The sun was going down as the KH crew headed to Disney World. All of them where ready to be there but there was just one problem, They had been driving for hours and they where running out of gas. Terra acting as the driver was getting tired of all the chitchat behind him. So he didn't notice until it was to late. Suddenly they stopped with a shudder.
Terra: great we've run out of gas!
Aqua: let me see if I can't find a gas station on my phone near by.
Drink the Kool-aidThe only way to influence change is to become a key member in the accepted society and slowly "spill the kool-aid." If you move too quickly, you are called insane and stopped. If you move too slowly, nothing will change.
2 Minutes2 Minutes.
That's how long you get when the noose around your neck begins to loosen its grip. 2 minutes before the world around you starts to make sense, before you get your answer. 2 minutes of hell before an eternity of nothing, my own personal heaven, or maybe 2 minutes of heaven before an eternity of hell.
Not much can happen in 2 minutes if you think about it. Everyone's always saying, anything can happen at anytime. But has anything happened to you? I mean has anything REALLY happened to you. If you had to think about it, chances are whatever you could possibly come up with might not have been significant enough to call anything, yet, cause your still waiting for something to happen, until you can call what already has, anything at all.
This is the scratched up CD of my mind. Has anything happened? I don't know yet, lets wait to find out. Compare what will to what might to what has.
I'm about to hit the eject button after I leap off this chair with the answer tied around my neck.
Good Night, Mommy. I Love You.Dear Mama,
You're probably crying, but I understand that. It's okay to cry. You've just seen your own child waste away to nothing in the blink of any eye. I'd cry too, if I could. Mama, It's not your fault. It's mine. I hurt myself. I gave up. I let all of the crap get to me. Well, in a way it is your fault. You ignored me. You treated me like crap. You put her before me. Her. The one that you'll call in a little while, crying, telling her what happened. It's not her fault. She just lost her only sibling. Her baby sister. You always loved her more. You would ignore me when she would need you. I was second. I was inferior. I was never your "little girl." She always was. You never missed anything she did, but you always miss it when I do stuff. Mama, when I got to sing in front of everybody at church, you were in the other room, talking to her on the phone. I walked off stage crying, Mama, thinking that you didn't love me. Daddy never liked me. She was his favorite too. Before me, I was
BrainwashedWe who wish to become teachers, are being brainwashed to brainwash our future students so that the cycle may never be broken. It should be illegal to force a child to choose how they will slave away the rest of their lives.
"Prepare them for the workforce," they say.
What we should be doing is raising thinkers and explorers and children who question the norm instead of following along blindly. We need more inventors and people with new ideas instead of forcing the same broken down, doomed to failure ideas from our past.
LimitationsWhen we are created we are given a set os limitations that we must live out lives within.
Later on in life, we are given another set of limitation from our parents.
After that, we impose our own limitations on the limitations of our parents limitations of the original limitations.
With every new set of limitations, a new society is born and constantly applies new rules to all the people that fall within that level.
If you try to live outside of the limitations you are forever an outcast. If you are too far below, then you are homeless. If you are too far above, then you are in jail.
Humanitie's society is a monster that is constantly fed by the people within the limits, but those people are only higher ranked slaves than the rest. They don't even realize that society has them enslaved and they believe that they only have two choices in life; this or that, left or right, paper or plastic.
Such two dimensional thinking.
Do you not realize that we are living in a four dimensional world? D
Shadows Secret (Monologue)Shadows Secret
By: Michaela Seabrooke
I am the thing that follows you in the light. I disappear in the shadows. Lurking among the dark. Dimly lit only by the soft, pale moonlight. I have no one, other than my own self. I am the darker side of you. The side you do not wish to see. The side that remains silent and dead to the world. I remain trapped in the shadows. I long to live in the light. I am condemned to the dark, leaving me with only my own kind. I shall remain here, for as long as the light will let me. When the time is right. Then we shall strike. Then we will live amongst the light. Then we will be among the angels.
-John Castal, October 24th 1889.
I had a heart once. I had a heart once. I don't know when I lost it, all I know is that it was sometime ago. I believe it happened while one evening I was touring the roads on my bike. Feeling the wind through my hair, hearing it as it roared by my bare ears.
I love the way the leather grips feel under my tight fingers, or how the motor purrs between my legs. The heavy intoxicating smell of sun heated tar of the road. I will admit the odd sharp speck to the face every time a lone bug collides with me in the rush is unsettling but the whole idea that I know I'm looking cool is enough to keep me calm. Yup, heart racing fast it was definitely still there.
I sped through a small town like the jackass I am. Making the women scream and the men yell. The buildings were nice. they looked old and kinda made the town look like it was made out of toys.A little tinker town where the people are always moving.yeah,but I sped through it. That's when I believe it happened.
Racing down the sea side run. Fee
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More