CharletanUntil today, I'd thought I might be clairvoyant. I'm sure you'll understand why I thought that, right? I mean, for as long as I can remember, I've heard voices that nobody else can hear. Well, alright, let's be honest -- I've heard just one voice in all that time, but she was persistent. I heard her pretty much every day of my life, but I was never brave enough to talk back. Not even in those quiet times when I just lay there in bed listening to her talk.Charletan by camelopardalisinblue
So I figured it was either claivoyance or crazy, and -- well, I just didn't want to even go there, did I? So yup, that's me, clairvoyant extraordinaire. So Extraordinaire, in fact, that I can only hear the one ghost. It felt, sometimes, like she was conversing with others. It was a bit embarrassing that I could only hear her, and not the others, but I tried not to let it get me down.
I tried to get into all that gemstone and nature stuff, spirit guides and all that too. Thought maybe that'd help me hear the others as well, but it didn
Bad EggThey called him Stampy. He was born to it, and it seemed he was determined to live up to it. He pounded at the ground, forming craters and depressions in his wake. Every now and then, he stopped to let out a roar simply for the sound of it. The trees trembled. The ground quaked. The herbivores kept their distance, scattering at the sight of his large head, tiny arms, and humongous teeth.Bad Egg by camelopardalisinblue
Stampy, for his part, usually stomped after them. They were tasty, and besides, the chase was fun. Their squeals of terror, the booming cries of anguish as he tore flesh from their bones, those were the things that Stampy enjoyed most. Sometimes he would leave them like that, bodies rotting while the creature lived, and just watch.
Occasionally, a young bull, eager to prove himself, would challenge Stampy, and the older male would laugh to himself. He would decimate his competition - usually fairly literally, tearing the youngster into pieces and scattering them to the winds. He did not kid himself tha
School ShoesA pair of sneakers hangs by its laces, dangling from the branches of an enormous tree. On the upper world, the guide tells us, his voice turning pompous and slipping into a teaching tone, "this would be a sign of illegal or immoral activities, generally involving the procurement or sale of illicit substances".School Shoes by camelopardalisinblue
My children's eyes glaze over at all the big words, and I snag their attention with a simpler explanation. "Weed-grass that makes them see strange things," I explain. Their eyes widen immediately and they turn to stare behind us at the shoes, even as the guide tells us that of course, here the sneakers have a very different meaning. He doesn't get a chance to explain further before the door of one of the dwellings opens as if on cue, and the inhabitant emerges.
As one, we sigh with pity. It has the head of a dolphin and the feet of a human, and we all try to imagine what life must be like to live without fins. We ooh and we ahh at the strangeness, then there's a flash as someone'
Chicken CoupBernice was a fighter. She was born with a fire in her belly and a desire for justice. She was also, as it turns out, born in a small town of the sort that still believed Justice was nothing more than a great choice of name. Bernice bided her time, growing older and stronger, feeding the belly-fire with big-city politics and rallying cries, all from the TV, and she watched for her chance to fight for right.Chicken Coup by camelopardalisinblue
The animals were restless. Cows pawed at the ground, their cloven-hooves leaving clumps of dirt to dot the grassy field. The pigs muttered to themselves in thick groans, wildly flinging mud and muck every which way. This year's lambs rushed hither and thither, wearing patterns and paths into the greenery of their pastures. As for the chickens... instead of rustlings in the hen house, there was a squawking and a bickering in the yard.
The weather was warming, and the time of feasting was almost upon them. This was, the animals knew, a problem of epic proportions -- the Farmer alwa
Current EventsThomas Edison sniffed the cold January air and scowled. Direct current was a gold mine, and now here came alternating current to take it all away from him. There was nothing for it, his back was against the wall. He had to electrocute an elephant.Current Events by joe-wright
Once people saw alternating current frying an elephant, they'd be sure to come back to him. After all, his invention hadn't murdered any animals that people knew of. If he couldn't earn the high ground, he could still push Westinghouse and Tesla into the mud.
He watched, self-satisfied as 6600 volts slammed through the harnessed elephant. He was slightly less satisfied when the elephant grew twenty feet and started to obliterate the crowd with its laser eyes.
Shit. thought Edison, This didn't happen to any of those stray cats and homeless people I tested it on. I have to put some spin on this, sharpish.
“Alas, if only direct current had been used!” he announced loudly as panicked men and women rushed pa
FFM Day 9- Reborn with a Trickster in the RainThe person strapped to the tree slumped forward, hair hanging down around their face. They were naked and tiny, dwarfed by the massive oak they were lashed to. Red welts formed where they fought bonds; their blood turned pink and ran with the rain where their hands rubbed against the bark.FFM Day 9- Reborn with a Trickster in the Rain by IntelligentZombie
The oak stood alone in the great meadow beyond the forest’s border, as though the other trees had chased it away when they were seedlings. The oak was barren, leafless, and as doomed as the person bound to it.
“O-Tei,” a breeze whispered. It was likely a spirit or a demon trying to trick O-Tei away into the forever lands deep below the world. O-Tei couldn’t die like this, ghost-kissed and abandoned. The breeze kissed their cuts.
The wounds that ran deep in O-Tei’s flesh would never heal and fade. They were forever until they rotted. “Whore” was written in Kanji across their forehead, and “freak” on their cheek. O-Tei’s killers had written th
FFM 09 - Wee Willie WinkieRobin was laughing his stupid horns off again, and I momentarily considered just putting him to sleep. A pair of dryads in the corner of the classroom were whispering and pointing at me between frantically glancing at their phones again. I tried to focus on my pen.FFM 09 - Wee Willie Winkie by distortified
“Really, Willie? Really? You showed a Pixie? You must’ve known this would end poorly!”
“Shut up, Puck.” I murmured. The tip of the pen glided over the surface of the paper, sketching out the images almost as quickly as the sleeping dwarf in the corner could dream them up. The girls in the corner were giggling harder now, which started Robin up again.
“They don’t seem impressed bro. Guess that's why you're Wee Willie Winkie?
“My dad was a Spriggan,” I spat defensively. "I'm a grower, not a shower."
“Hey, no shame man. Not everyone can be hung like Odin.”
“Just shut up.”
your teeth leave different scarswhat they didn't tell me--
Forgive This Grief (Miscarriage)My arms are weighted with her space,
(August 31, 2013; April 26, 2014)
Daily Lit Deviations during 2014
I Am More Than BPDDon't tell me you know me better
10 Myths For 10 Mythics1. To Gaia:
(March 13, September 24)
Daily Lit Deviations during 2013
Your Non-Existent CompetitionMy fingers hover over numbers I have not needed to think about for years, and I urge myself to make the call. Still hesitant, I pick out the digits that still translate to "home" in my mobile, though for years it has been only a house; sometimes mine, sometimes not. It rings once and I hang up, then try again and again and again. Third time might be the charm, but today it takes five of these hang ups before I stay on the line.
(we all are the) monarchwe are not born noble.
(November 17, October 13)
I Am Not Your ReceptacleI am not your receptacle,
Artist Reviews and Compliments
(aka, people say really nice things about me and I don't want to ever forget them):
bloodawni is an incredible ray of sunshine. Regardless of the hardships she has confronted and continues to take charge of, she manages to bring smiles to the faces of so many and brightens our lives just by being here. On top of all this, she has an intensely breathtaking poetic style that holds audiences captive, and strikes straight at the heart.
Great work, Dawni. Please don't ever give up on your dreams. -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
You are a bundle of wonder and goodness. Whenever I see you doing something it's with determination and love. You are bounding and exuding such a positive, lovely energy that is truly remarkable. We've only just started to get to know each other, but I all ready know that you are an amazing person who strives to help others. ♥ -- by the beautiful and amazing IrrevocableFate.
bloodawni has always been a really kind and caring person, on top of being really talented with such moving and inspiring poems. Just as inspiring is the strength and determination to carry on in life rather than get her down. Even in her 'down' moments, she never gives up and never lets its affect her optimistic side, something which takes courage as well as strength.
Thank you for being such a wonderful and inspiring friend Keep up the good work -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
*bloodawni is a talented and modest individual with a heart of gold. -- by a wonderful deviant who chose to remain anonymous -- dACompliments.
*bloodawni is one of the kindest and bravest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. On top of which, she is incredibly talented! Definitely a deviant you should know. -- by the lovely RiseandBe
"~bloodawni, while a fairly new addition to my own watch list, has ensnared me in the beauty of her words and left me wanting--needing--more. There's a sense of real life to her pieces that is bound to leave readers breathless; the emotions pouring from each word is enough to knock a reader over and make it hard to get back up until the end. With a kind heart and an enthusiasm for participation that can't be beat, ~bloodawni is one deviant you should definitely keep an eye on!" -- by the beautiful betwixtthepages
Dawniface, you are one of my favorite people here on deviantART. You have so much strength, courage, and love in your heart. You are such a beautiful person and your poetry is almost as good as your pure heart. But, not a lot of things compare to your loving spirit, lovely Dawni. You are an amazing person and I love you. You inspire me to give more love everyday. -- by the wonderful chromeantennae
I've written this several times, apparently writing about myself is difficult. I caved and asked my partner to help.
30s -- female -- Aussie (Caboolture, Queensland) -- defacto -- diagnosed with mental illness -- mother to 2 butterfly children -- crazy/weird/'special' (not to be confused with the aforementioned mental illness) -- cheerful -- loving -- cheeky -- friendly.
I believe in a llama for a llama, but I don't watch people simply because they're watching me & I don't do fav-for-fav trades. Please don't feel obliged to fav my work or watch me just because I gave you a random llama/fav/comment/whatnot. Fav or watch me because you like my work by all means, though!
PS, a million, billion thank-yous to the wonderful SilverInkblot who made the pretty boxes for me.
RomeAt least one of my forefathers must have been a domestic dog. From when I was a cub, I felt the pull of the human city, but my mother always told us never to go there.
'They might once have been our friends,' she said, 'but now we disapprove of them because they're civilised, which means that they have too much and they fight and kill each other to have more.'
'Wolves fight,' I said.
'We don't kill each other if we can help it, and only then for something we need. The humans already have more than they need. You haven't seen the walls of their city.'
I didn't tell her that I had seen them.
'Their city now reaches far beyond those walls,' my mother went on, 'and really, they are the most vulgar creatures imaginable. They eat and eat and have a special place to go and be sick in. And to think they disapprove of the way that we decent animals smell each other's behinds.'
'Why might they once have been our friends?' I asked, and so my mother bega
FFM4: The Fourth of July InklingWhen the daughter of the dawn gives you a gift, you don't flush it down the garbage disposal.
The inkling was a colorless void the shape of a water droplet and the size of a squirrel. It was magic infused ink, sentient, and shuddering with a barely contained rage. It had already destroyed my new fourth of July table cloth, a plate of cookies, and a double layer, chocolate frosted buttermilk cake.
I needed a drink. Or a Xanax. Or a mallet to the head.
"You could just write with it," Ed said, "I mean, it's ink, isn't it? Or better yet, I could write with it. I have to write a haiku for class. Magical ink would guarantee me a decent grade."
The daughter of the dawn was my godmother and the king's fourth wife. She was also a powerful wizard my mother had helped once upon a time. The two had become friends, and unfortunately for me, it meant every birthday I received well meant but terrible magical presents. This year was the first year in five years she hadn't sent any damned talking magic
How to obtain a CerberusOliver was having second thoughts about the procedure, a strong force lured him back as he made his way down the sterile white hall and he looked over his shoulder numerous times, tempted to walk away. He could only hope the severe case of bad luck he'd come down with wouldn't sabotage the work they'd planed for the day. With one final glance towards the exit, he braced himself and entered the room which was the site of all of their experiments.
He knew Dr. Hades wouldn't bother to make his presence known if he'd arrived ahead of time, so Oliver crossed the dark chamber and made himself as comfortable as possible in the worn chair he'd grown to hate. As soon as he was seated the tall, sickeningly thin creature that was the elderly doctor revealed itself to him and strapping him down. Oliver's dishevelled appearance seemed to draw the interest of the allegedly human medic but the young man only shrugged in response to his questioning gaze. It would be too long a story to explain what ha
FFM 04 - The Dream PrisonThe thirteenth bell chimed, and I snapped my pocket watch closed. I’d been fishing for mythical beasts for weeks in this world of endless night, and knew the shift change didn’t take long. I knew the paths the guards took, and I knew the layout of their ethereal prison. I darted forward from the shadows.
What are you doing? the voice whispered in my ear.
“Stopping this,” I hissed.
No. That is not your place. The voice of The Hat had raised from a whisper to a boom that only I could hear.
“Shove it. I’m doing this.” Pulling my scarf tight, I slipped through the labyrinthine arrangement of holding cells, situated in clusters to maximize neural connection. It’d taken some work, but I’d found the Gypsy king, and all four-hundred and four of his missing Pied Crows. The once proud order of dream nights huddled in their cells, their black and white uniforms fading to a fl
Seattle Demigods--Day 4Rome may have been gone, but its monsters certainly weren’t. And, like the arrogance, sexuality, and gods, the monsters had migrated halfway around the world to its modern counterpart, Seattle. And that’s why we were there tonight, hunting the Hydra sighted here just last week. We’d seen all kinds of monsters in these strange days, monsters thought dead for centuries. Monsters that had hunted the heroes of ancient Rome.
Heroes like us, the modern children of the gods.
“Are you sure this is where it will be?” Clary asks from behind me. I can’t see her, but I can hear her fiddling with her bowstring—her nervous tic. She’s a daughter of Apollo, and snakes make her jittery. I can’t exactly blame her.
“Of course,” Lisa says. She’s crouched by the water, spear in hand. She looks bulky in all that armor, with her plumed helmet giving her a Mohawk. “This is
4.15 Dwindling LegacyIt’s time.
The summer stars had aligned, and the Bard could feel the emotion of the crowd like a cloud of static electricity. The time had come for him to choose a successor, and he started down from the dais into the gathered parents and children.
He had been chosen himself, once. He remembered Masters Saloh, Regor, and Grulfow weaving through a similar crowd for what seemed like forever at the age of five, stopping to talk to both the parents and the children. Regor and Gruflow stopped a few times before choosing, but Saloh had gone straight for him.
“What’s your name, child?” Saloh didn’t speak above a whisper, but he heard her perfectly in the anticipatory hush of the hall.
“Eitac, ma’am.” He whispered, too, but more from nerves than anything else.
Saloh smiled and held out a hand to him. “You get to come with me, Eitac. It’s time to say goodbye now.”
He hugged his paren
MiraI drink the last of the willowspirit and screw up my eyes against the migraine. Dangerous stuff. Drink it all at once and you'll be dead before the dawn.
I'm close now. There's a forest shrine nestled in the shadow of the Edzull hills, where the wirewights commune with their dead god. I know it well, and dozens of other such places that litter the Ossifus isles. One by one I visit them, stepping stones on a pilgrimage that ends I know not where.
The willowspirit stings my eyes, and begins to reveal the toxic sunrise. The shadowed treetops are heavy with crows and hunched things. Greenteeth and Grendelows paw at the grass by the stream. Some of these things are real and some of them are the willowspirit in my veins. I keep my distance from all of them.
Thirteen bells I wear on my belt, and thirteen magicks burn at the tip of my tongue. The book of binding sits in my satchel like a cannonball, alongside three black ritual candles that I won't be using tonight. I'll need another candle, o
FFM 4 - The Spine of the WorldHe can't remember when he last took the medication. It could have been weeks. He doesn't know, can't think: skull pulsing with maggots. They've burrowed into the cavity of his braincase, squirmed against the flat bones of his cranium. He hears them sliding, feels them fester in his grey matter. Feels them breed.
He can't go outside. Hasn't tried, too afraid, yet promises each time, huddled in a dull corner, he will do it, soon. He sees a flickering shadow waiting. He hears metal screams. He is cured but they will poison him. To leave was slavery, to stay starvation.
He reaches a hand but his fingers are palm leaves. His body is a knife, too sharp to move incautiously. He has no choice, never had except for the when of his fate. Leaves wrap around the scaled handle of his door-turned-tree. Feels the jolt of electricity when it resists, but he pushes through and turns.
His footsteps fail. He steps outside the monolith. The shadow is behind him, above him, somewhere he can't see. The tree
Day 3- The Rifleman's WalkThe rifleman walked his feet bloody. His boots were hours behind him on the dusty road. His feet, worn raw by the unpaved highway, were a collection of bleeding lacerations and oozing blisters. He bent forward as though he were climbing up a steep incline. Just walking jarred his bones, until he felt he would break himself apart from the force of each step.
He must have looked smart once in his officer’s frock, with pressed trousers, and shined boots. Now he looked like a dead man who’d climbed out of his own grave, bloodied from a past that was only two steps behind.
The lemon yellow dress hugged her curves better in his memory. She wore a bonnet over her hair, but for him, for his memory of her, she undid the strings. She dropped the bonnet to the ground. Her eyes were brown, and for him they were wide and full of love, but he couldn’t remember if she’d really loved him that much.
As a hallucination, her stomach was full and round, and pregnancy suited her. Th
FFM day 4: 4 promisesConversation with Julia Sarnet
I’m so drugged up, Jules
I can’t think straight
it’s okay honey
i’m right here with you
I love you!
Peter’s heart rate monitor beeped incessantly. The room was decorated with little pieces of the different families he’d had: bobbleheads from the precinct, pictures from mom and dad, action figures from Julia, and half a Hallmark store of cards.
babe, Alyn’s wife wants to visit
what should I say?
ask her why Alyn isn’t talking to me
I can tell her this is a bad time
I have to tell him I’m sorry
People swam in and out of focus. Some days Peter woke in the hospital. Other days he woke in a warehouse with smoke in his eyes, pain shooting through parts of him that were barely attached anymore.
He woke with his sister’s head on his chest, o
Heart's EasePetal/ Blossom/ Flora/ Posy/ Sharon, the polyanthus who lived in the garden of Fairy Heartsease, were singing their song to greet the day.
Romance over before it even started?
Well, she’s the one to help the broken hearted.
We all think she’s the bee’s knees
Here she is: Fairy Heartsease!
They looked expectantly towards the door of the cottage.
Nobody came out.
“Er,” said Sharon, “should we..?”
Suddenly the door was thrown open and Fairy Heartsease stomped out carrying a bottle. She scowled at the polyanthus and sang her reply.
Lovers, tell me of your plight
I’m full of sweetness and delight.
She took a swig from the bottle.
There was a pause.
“Have we caught you at a bad moment?” said Petal, eventually.
Heartsease burst into tears. “He’s chucked me!”
“Oh… You mean…” said Blossom.
“That bloody Kaleidoscope Pixie.” Heartsease stared at her bottle. “I
FFM15 - 5: Some Assembly RequiredDoctor Frank tore the tape off the box and began taking all the pieces out, being careful to arrange them neatly by size. He always did love this part: the unboxing. It was almost like Christmas, but better in a way, because he ordered it himself and didn’t have to feign joy when he unwrapped socks from Aunt Marie.
Once Doctor Frank had all the pieces laid out, he gave a little squirm of excitement and reached for the instructions. He didn’t usually need instructions; he was very good at assembling things. And really, how hard could it be? He had put together countless people, and this didn’t have nearly so many parts to it. But, it was a new project and Doctor Frank wanted to do it right. After last year’s Body Building fiasco, he had decided to move into a more specialised field. Building your own pet was a somewhat unconventional practice thus far, but he felt sure the trend would catch on quickly.
He scanned the instruction leaflet, head tilting to one side
The Last Laugh“So what are you in for?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Carl vigorously chalked his cue, buying precious time. “The boss wanted some stuff stolen from a place, it didn’t go to plan...the usual.”
“Huh.” The inmate with the prominent widow’s peak lined up his shot, took it, and sent the cue ball spinning into the corner pocket. “Was the place anywhere interesting?”
“Uh...” Carl put the cue ball back on the table and sank a red into the side pocket. “Not really. You know, standard secret lab. Nothing out of the ordinary.” It was more or less true. He took his next shot, leaving another red covering the corner pocket.
The inmate took his turn. A wild jab from the cue sent the ball flying off the table and bouncing noisily across the floor. “Frank!” he shouted. “Little help?”
FFM5: Burn the DeadThe yellow quarantine signs had faded considerably, but they were still legible. Adrian knew the words from memory. It had been six weeks. He had been the last survivor for four.
"No, dummy, my house is behind the restaurant," Kate said. He felt the chill when she tried to nudge him.
"I know you don't live in the restaurant," he said, "Give me a minute."He pushed the tip of the shovel into the dirt and leaned on it. He needed more than a minute. He needed thousands to work up the nerve just walk past the building. The restaurant was Mom's special place. It was hard to look at it and see it like this---windows broken, walls splotched with brown, tables over turned, and above all else, the main dining room empty.
Family Restaurant was ten years worth of Sunday dinners. Now, it was just another ruin.
"Maybe you don't have a minute. Life is short, pick up the pace," Kate said.
"We've got time. I'm not dying."
"It's not always about you," she said.
"I know, Kate. I know." Reluctantly, he pu
JudgmentalGerald stepped out of the fitting room in a floor length evening gown, slinky and figure hugging.
“Oh, God,” said Cynthia. She put her head in her hands.
Gerald frowned and retreated back behind the curtain.
He reappeared in a pencil skirt and pussy bow blouse, both fitting rather snugly.
“Gerald!” muttered Cynthia. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Looking daggers, Gerald disappeared again, reappearing for the last time in a catsuit that left nothing to the imagination.
“Well, I am not going out with you looking like that!” said Cynthia.
Gerald straightened his shoulders. “You know, you could be a little more supportive.”
Cynthia sighed. “Gerald, you are really going to have to face it. You’re just not a size 10.”
FFM 2015, July 5 - SouflikarSabah knew the end had come when the janissaries led him into the garden. Opposite a delicate round table sat the head gardener, wearing a caftan made out of finest Oriental silks, his bashlyk adorned with gems and gold. Although his clothing spoke of wealth, his physique was everything but: he was the largest man Sabah had ever seen.
The man smiled. "Isn't it a lovely day today, master thief?"
On the table, laid out in the traditional manner, were two cups of sharbat, chilled. Sabah licked his dry, cracked lips. The sultan's gaolers had limited his torture to just withholding drink, but in the sweltering summer heat, that was more than enough.
"I'm not a thief." Sabah said finally. "What I stole is nobody's possession."
The head gardener's smile broadened. "Sultan Mahomet disagrees. But I understand you consider yourself innocent?"
"Before Allah, I do." Sabah said. He could imagine the sweet taste of the sharbat against his lips. It swirled, red - perhaps scented with rose?
FFM 5: The Unexpected Hazards of Pet Ownership“Hey!” yelled Alya’s phone. “Hey, listen!”
Alya swore, bolting upright in bed and groping for the phone while her partner, Sam, groaned and tossed in the sheets. “What time is it?” Sam grumbled.
“Before nine, honey, go back to sleep.” Alya stroked Sam’s hair and cursed herself for leaving the volume up on her phone before they’d gone to sleep last night. But it had been late when they’d gotten back from the party, and they’d both been drunk, so she’d forgotten.
Sam muttered something dire—even when she hadn’t been drinking, she never, ever got up before nine—and covered her face with a pillow. Alya silenced the offending phone and thumbed to her text messages. She frowned. The message was from her roommate, Kelly: also not an early riser.
i hate your cat rite now. this is the worst morning of my life.
Shit, Alya thought, suddenly very glad she’d stayed the nig
Have a Good Day “Melissa, did you wash your hands?”
“Show me.” Melissa rolled her eyes and held her hands out for inspection. Gloria nodded and moved on to the next morning crisis. “That’s way too much peanut butter, Louis.”
Her kindergartner son looked up from his sandwich. He had somehow gotten just as much peanut butter on his face and into his mouth as he had onto the bread. “I know, Mom. That’s how I like it.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “As long as you wash up after you’re done. And take an apple. You forgot to grab one yesterday.”
That was two children accounted for. The third was probably still in bed.
“Anthony?” She flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. Gloria looked up and saw why. He’d taken out the light bulbs the night before
Chronicles of Midlurth VII: Beyond our BordersWith a scorched cloak on his back and two arrows in his arse, a dwarf made his way along the Amberlea riverside. He saw the sign of the Golden Dragon ale house and shivered. Dragons. Too soon.
As he passed the door, a ruddy-faced halfling raised his beer thimble in greeting. “Ho there! Here for the vegetable competition this afternoon?”
“Have you not heard?” asked the dwarf. “The Necrolock has raised a world-ending army. Every human able to hold a sword marches west as we speak! The smart races are heading East.”
“You should see Mrs Hurgsplirdle's pumpkins, I'd bet you ten thimbles she'll be walking home with firs' place!”
“Are you not listening to me? Monsters are coming! You need to get out of here now, or you and everyone you care about will be dead within the week!”
The halfling snorted. “What goes on beyond Farmer Gherkin's hill is neither here nor there.”
“No, it definitely is there, and it'll be here t
SarahSarah clothed herself in flame. Her hair was orange and red and yellow, left to fly free when she danced, and her fingernails shone fiery-bright. She called to mind a phoenix, an ifrit, a goddess of the sun. And she was beautiful.
But she was no goddess and no djinni and no flaming bird. Sarah tended bars. She spent half her days and most of her nights mixing cocktails, wiping down tables, avoiding the fingers of drunks who'd later claim they didn't know what they were doing. She wouldn't avoid their eyes: Sarah had fire in her eyes, and when she stared back at them they'd mostly leave her alone, muttering apologies and fumbling for tips.
It wasn't a bad life. But on days when the sun shone bright and Sarah danced barefoot through its beams, her flame-colored hair and clothing sparkling as they swung around behind her, she found herself wishing for more: she wanted fire in her life, something that would move and grow and change. She wanted the glow of destruction.
No one had a
We Buy Gold“Is this real gold?” she asked, pointing to one of the necklaces behind the counter.
The pawn dealer turned in his chair but didn't get up. “Yep. Twenty-four karat. Good eye.”
She leaned in and squinted. “And it's priced as marked? That's the right label?”
He nodded. “All sales final.”
She raised an eyebrow. “...is it cursed?”
So close to finally making the sale, the dealer swore under his breath.
The Watch FlowerFrom the day I was a seed until the day I was last planted, I have seen and heard many things. I was grown close to a beach with waves of rushing blue and white foaming hands that stretched over the sand and sprayed the air with cool sprinkles of salt.
Not far from the shore was a moving forest. It was there where an old, big strange tree with moving branches who collected rare seeds planted me in a pile of dirt at between the sea and the forest. It wasn't too moist, but the old tree cared well for me.
Life was dull while underground, but things changed when a little big flower appeared. Lisa, I heard the strange trees with soft creamy barks call her. Thin black roots grew instead of petals on her receptacle, almost as long as her height. Her stem split into two at the bottom where roots should be, and with those the large flower, covered in a red bell shaped petal, and the long black strings at the top was be able to move.
I was a tiny shoot when Lisa first noticed me. Two big round d
Hello, My Name is Peddy “Alright iDometer, let’s see what you can do,” Tracy said as she pressed the little on button.
The little screen lashed on. It showed a brief animation of shoes running then went to a menu screen. “Hello. My name is Peddy. I think this is the first time we have met. Is this true?” A yes and a no button appeared on the touch screen and Tracy tapped ‘yes.’ “Is this your first time using an iDometer?”
“Why yes it is,” Tracy responded, again tapping the yes button on the screen.
“I see. How would you like me to address you? To give the iDometer voice commands, please hold the start button. I will record and memorize your voice so only you may give my commands.”
Following the instructions, Tracy held the pedometer close to her mouth. “Peddy, please call me Tracy.”
|Please consider giving me a llama rather than thanking me if that's what you're here for (and know that if I haven't already given you one, I do reciprocate), but you're very welcome either way. |
Feel free, also, to start up a random conversation!