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The Trump Card. I walked through the old fair grounds, trying to find something in the least bit entertaining to do. I rode all the rides, ate funnel cake, and played all of the games. But I had a feeling I might of missed something. Eh, who would normally care, right? I mean, you rode everything. But this was a tad different. My friends wanted me to do everything at the fair, because I had only been once in my life.
I continued to walk around, until I stumbled upon what seemed to be an old, circus tent. Me being who I am, my curiosity got the best of me. I glanced at the tent a bit, seeing the... bland colors. Nothing but black and white. I looked up at the top, to see if it had anything. All that was there was a sign that said "Dark Raven's Telling." I noticed a light glowing through the tent. It seemed like a lantern. I pondered for a moment, thinking if I should go in or not. Again, me being the curious person I was, I went in for a little look.
The only thing that was really not
Go To SLEEP. -Jeff the Killer Poem-The black haired boy looked in the mirror.
All he could see that his end was growing nearer.
He smiled for a moment, but he was in pain.
He knew for a fact he was going insane.
He laughed and laughed.
He took a knife and made his little scary "craft"
He cut a smile into his mouth.
In his mind he looked beautiful, without a doubt.
He walked in his room and looked for a lighter.
He turned it on, the fume growing brighter.
He burnt out his eyelids, laughing more and more.
Then he threw the little lighter down to the floor.
He picked up the knife he took in his room.
He would no longer be consumed by gloom.
The boy walked down to the end of the hall.
He knew that they would pay, pay for it all.
He slipped in to the room, quiet as a mouse.
He knew the way around his very own house.
He took the knife and stabbed his kin.
He didn't care, he knew it was sin.
As the knife went deeper than deep.
You could here the very faint whisper.
"Go to sleep."
Mexico short story. -Hetalia-Mexico raced down the long garden that him and his brothers were playing in, trying to catch up to his brother. "Wait, Toni!" He said, still running after his older brother, Spain. They were playing hide and seek, and Mexico was it. He was playing with his brothers, Spain and Portugal. They were both older than him by a few years, and they always picked on him. Mexico wanted to show them that he could be just like them, but every time he tried something, Spain 'the boss' told him that he could never be like them, and that made Mexico very upset. He never knew why.
'Why do they hate me?' He thought to himself, still chasing after Spain. Portugal was hiding in a tree, watching his youngest brother chase after the other. He chuckled at the thought that Mexico said that he could catch Spain. Portugal tried to climb the tree higher, but made a wrong step. He slipped and fell all the way down to the ground with a thud. Mexico and Spain stopped immediately once they heard their brother wince
MaskShe wears a mask like it’s nothing.
Sometimes I forget it was made by demons.
I forget there’s a person living behind it.
Bridge ClosedIn the city of spires
thrust upward through the body of cloud
a piercing spike of adrenalin,
as the wind fondly ruffles her hair,
doesn't stop her from jumping up.
Reaching to be seen or saved,
by a city that blinks and misses her -
a temporary peak on the skyline.
Doesn't stop her from slamming
into the steel slashes
of the trainline below.
Even the most beautiful places
to those blinded by the inside-out-agony
of breathing against their will.
The city of spires remember her
as the cause for a bridge closed
on a Sunday.
Poem for My 2nd Semester English Teacher(Short v.)You stapled these words to the page.
Like a modern day tyrant,
You denied them the little humanity
You trapped their souls into
And threw them to the curb,
I understand that certain things
Should be left Inhuman
But we even give hurricanes names.
You taught us to separate the person from the art,
But if the art is about that person, you can’t pull them apart
Raspy Hill"I don't quite feel like myself."
I haven't for a while now.
My mind seems displaced,
Like it's wandered too far away.
"I've been having strange dreams lately."
Images of strange creatures dance in my sleep.
I don't know them but I know they are malicious.
What do they want?
"But now you're here and I'll make you feel right at home."
My saviour, my protector.
You'll guard me from this evil.
"Welcome to Raspy Hill."
This is my hell.
And you'll join me.
I'll make sure of it.
"Enjoy your stay."
FlamesThere are flames where
his head should be -
a poem left in the fireplace,
a dressing gown, a pipe,
forty pieces of silver.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible.
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stones on the battlefield,
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
a love poemlike a dictionary ripe
with salted, sun spotted
words that emanate power
and splendor, i am unable
to describe you.
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
Confusion and Illusion.Confusion and Illusion.
Looking at everyone walk by,
Seeing them all smile, and I don't know why.
Even as rain pours down, I still don't see a frown.
It confuses me, but yet that is all I see.
It's pretty much my life,
Not being able to tell why people act the way they do.
It's like being in a room with no emotion.
That is my life.
Being locked away in a room with the ghosts.
The ghosts of my past, and all I see is doom.
Doom, doom, doom. In a small little room.
The walls are a bright sky blue.
And hearing the 'coo' of the birds outside.
It makes me know what my life is.
It's not confusion.
...It's just an illusion...
A Guide to Writing DialogueWhat is dialogue, exactly? The definition from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary was several lines long, so I shall summarize it in a short sentence for the sake of the readers; it’s the writing that illustrates conversations between two or more characters in a story. We read and hear it all around us, but creating it in your own work can be a challenge. However, if you find dialogue an obstacle in your writing, then don’t push the panic button. In this tutorial, you’ll find by analyzing what dialogue can do and how to use it, you can turn your greatest fear into your greatest ally in your story.
What dialogue is
Like I’ve asserted before, dialogue is basically what the characters are saying to each other. It can be found in multiple mediums such as books, movies, comics, video games, etc. We even engage in dialogue daily without even thinking. When you talk to your best friend, a co-worker, or even your dog, you create dialogue. It’s exchang
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More