Succession"Enter" the voice from within came weary and hoarse.Succession by AspiredWriter
The door opened and two young ladies passed the threshold tentatively. The tall one had short blond hair that looked as if it was cut off using a chainsaw and betrayed dark roots. The white T-shirt covering most of her torso exhibited garish swearwords and fake blood. It was tight against her skin and stretched to breaking point by two overinflated protuberances. Above ripped low cut jeans, her skin revealed partially covered tattoos. The one that could be made out portrayed a double headed battle axe in poison green and boysenberry. Every step she took nearer the bed resonated around the room as high heel met stone floor.
"Hey dad." She flashed a smile at the old man, her teeth peeking out beneath maroon lips.
The man grunted and coughed, then sighed without a sense of relief. "Melanie" the rasping word was barely audible. Not much longer then. "I have to talk to you about the future of the kingdom" His eyes failed to focus on anyth
|a part of story i had written|
Reaching OutThe darkness leaches around me looking for something to sink its claws into. To draw from. My whole body trembles with a yearning for life. Not for blood, but for spirit. The other part of me that is no longer human but a growing immortal calls to every part of my being. It pulls at all my resistance. For now I have none. I am still the pawn I was in life only dead. Now with suspended immortality that can be easily revoked, I suffer paying its price. I now hold a craving need that drains away all my sanity.
It pulls until I am only a wavering shadow of the person I once was, now overrun with the minds of them. Each spirit yearning for freedom as my much as my own. Wanting to breathe and feel, if only once. I snap out if this dark demise of the mind as everything in me suddenly strains with the feeling of being drawn forward.
The final spirit to freedom.
There is no wavering thought that brings doubt of it being anything else. I sense every part of me reaching out for this one sp
The RomanceIt happened that on midsummer day, when the sun was streaming down from cloudless skies and all the birds rejoiced for the beauty of the season, that Sir Esforcer took his leave of King Arthur, citing a need for adventure. This was most willingly granted, and the brave Knight rode from the castle as the sun began its journey back to the horizon.
Taking the main road west, Sir Esforcer admired the villages and farms he came through and graciously thanked the adoring populace for all their offerings of refreshment and rest. He declined the latter, however, telling all that he was determined to seek out adventure in the distant lands.
As the cloudless day faded into starry night, he saw a strange and uneven path winding into the forest on his left hand side. It was partially blocked by branches and rutted from many bad winters. He turned his horse and took the strange route, pushing into the forest and giving thanks for the bright moon lighting his way.
As he began to consider stopping to
DuetSeattle is iconic for the Space Needle, but it's famous for two things: Starbucks and rain. Pike Place Public Market boasts no less than fourteen distinct coffee shops. Some of them serve coffee and tea and baked goods; some branch out further into sandwiches and soups; a few even dare call themselves restaurants. It is one reason I adore the Market; it has retained the individuality that small businesses are supposed to exude.
The crumpled and folded bills littering the inside of my saxophone case certainly add to my love of the place. I come here every Saturday afternoon, for the acoustics, but some think I'm good enough to pay for the pleasure of hearing me toot my horn. And it is a pleasure. There's nothing quite as satisfying as squealing past the high C before dipping down to an F only to start the wave all over again. But that's hardly the point. I come to feel the press of bodies and voices, and to let music loose on wandering souls.
My apartment on the waterfront is comfortabl
|Critiques i have given out|
Long to write, Desire to be great! any tips suggestions and comments to aid this goal will be greatly appreciated
Favourite style of art: optical illusions
Personal Quote: if hell were cold and i'd be bold i'd stride right through before i'm old
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stamps from around dA after my own heart:
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It's Just A Matter Of TimeToday is hard.
I slip; only a little.
But I slip.
All is gone.
The darkness summons.
So tempting, so bright.
The darkness lures me.
Trapped, trapped in limbo.
I cannot stop myself.
I slip, I grasp at straws.
Mustn't fall, mustn't drop.
Hanging at the edge of a crumbling precipice,
my rock crumbles to dust.
The intangible becomes nonexistent.
I want to scream.
But I know my voice will be the end of me.
Even a whisper will pierce my like a knife.
There can be no helping hand.
There can be no shoulder to cry on.
There can be no light at the end of this drop.
The monster overtook me;
I put my foot in the pool of temptation,
and sunk right in.
And then came the sounds calling me.
I approached the forbidden grounds.
I knelt, helpless to resist.
I slipped, I fell.
Fear grasped at my throat.
A mountain of promises a smoky remnant of what was.
I pull myself back, standing at the edge.
Darkness on all sides as I'm held by a lie.
The darkness calls from far away.
It's just a matter
A Goal Is ShatteredOut of my element, out of my mind
A mission so short lived, a mission so hard
at ease with the world of dark and calm
Peace flows from recesses of silence
loud stream of soundless sound plays
warmth not yet cooled infuses hopeful times
Thought of nothing is filled with thoughts of everything
pushed away only to be replaced by others
every attempt failed, every failure abolished
constant battle for dominance
And then it comes, out of thin air
airless air carried on windless wind
filling the open space of all time
grasping at life, squeezing the life out of it
yearning to hasten a long wait for death
thought suffocates under the tendrils of death
thoughtlessness filled with an urgent despair
every crevice of mind both empties and fills
leaving room for nothing but a plea to flee
eyes pop open, legs pop up, relocation complete
in one swift moment a goal is shattered
outside the cloud of ash, beyond the hail of death
sinking into place once more but alas the calm is gone
there is no return
Return Of The Dragon'Twas cheerful party day.
The dragon kept away.
But now returned it had,
and set a trap, 'twas bad.
A gash, a burn, a scar.
It pressed the crowd too far.
Though blood it failed to spill,
and chased back up the hill,
from there it looks on down
and plans to raze the town.
The people now in dread
that soon they'll all be dead.
They must be strong and stay,
to keep the beast at bay.
What's left to do is pray
it won't return to slay.
But its return is sure.
It won't withstand the lure.
And maybe next attack,
they'll fail to send it back.
That day may come too soon,
before the crescent moon.
Severe will be the cost;
the town forever lost.