|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Tales of Shinac - Ch.1Tales of Shinac
There was nothing special about him.
He traveled with a satchel over one shoulder, and his gait was slow, ignorant of the world rushing on without him. His clothes were threadbare, trousers faded, shirt thin, vest hanging open, every button missing. His shoes, too, were nearly worn through. The traveler didn't seem to mind, meandering as he was through tall meadow grass beside a trickling stream. He walked along with a full smile on his lips, eyes bright as he gazed all around him. Only rarely did he look ahead, yet his steps were certain and he never stumbled. His movements, though relaxed, were purposeful. When he did look forward, there was a light in his face that left no room for doubt: He had a destination in mind. He was simply not hurrying to get there.
Yeshton watched the man from his hiding spot on a tree-strewn hillock west of the gurgling water. One hand hovered above the pommel of his sword, the other clutched at
The Boondoggler - Chapter 1The Boondoggler
n. A person who boondoggles; a wastrel
M. H. Woodscourt
Dedicated to My Dad,
Who Showed me the Magic of Words,
But Love First of All.
Every gunshot has a story. You can hear it in the ricochet, smell it in the powder, see it rising up in the smoke from the barrel. Yes sir, every gunshot in the whole wide world has a story; just some are better than others. Mine is one of the best. 'Course, this story isn't really my own. I just witnessed the events leading up to that fateful gunshot, the one that killed a god. Many of you won't believe it; you'll probably chalk it up as a tall-tale and leave well enough alone, but I did see what I write here, sure as the sun rises every single day over Golddust Pass, whether the clouds hide it o
Vortex and the Prince of Mars: Part .012
The Martian is grievously insulted.
The trail, such as it was, didn't lead to the lake. For a time there was nothing but trees and roots, rocks and scraggly brush. At last the trees gave way and Marchariathinshahren saw Meadow Lake, surrounded by jagged cliffs capped by a thin layer of snow. It was a small body of water, maybe a fifth of a mile across, but it sparkled proudly under the bright Autumn sun.
“How deep is it?” he asked Vortex.
“Dunno. Guess we'll find out.” He moved to the water's edge.
“You're going to dive?” Vey asked. “But it's freezing.”
Vortex glanced at her. “Nah, the weather's really good for October. Usually there's more snow here than this. We're about nine-thousand feet above sea level right now. Could be a lot colder.” He motioned to the cliffs opposite them. “Good view up there.”
“Thank you, but we're not going to hike up there to see more trees,”
Where the moon fell.If she had a shadow, Heinrich never noticed it. She always glowed, a prism catching and casting the sun's light, sightless eyes seeing more than he ever could. Her smile was infectious, never absent, always beaming like a star. She was his moon in the dark night, and when she fell, he stood in a vast nightscape without sound or sight or smell. He stood now in that void, where the moon fell, unaware of life beyond the empty plain of sorrow. So long he had fought against it, but it swallowed him whole at last.
In a way, he was glad. Now he could stop, not move on, not go back. Just stand still and think of her.
In his mind's eye, he saw her standing there now, across the plain of his misery, bright and angelic, reaching for him. But she was dead, gone, unreachable. He hadn't the strength to extend his hand to touch her across the wide space. Hadn't the desire. Hadn't the will. Hadn't anything at all.
"Elsa," he whispered, but his voice carried like the wind, though there was no wind to b
Liars go to Paradise? - Halloween SpecialThe Horrors of Uzadob Swamp?
Paradise is full of what one could describe as "unholy creatures." e.g. My first encounter with a furapintairow taught me that pink eyes do not a friendly creature make, nor does a round, furry body always promote warm fuzzies. In fact, fur is a really good way to conceal a deadly weapon, like sharp, pointy, venomous teeth. As for bendy tails with fluffy ends...I'm waiting for the fatality hidden there to reveal itself. In short, I've learned on a very personal level not to judge a book by its cover.
But nothing prepared me for the horrors of Uzadob swamp.
For those who don't know me very well, I'm Key, prophesied savior of a crazy world called Paradise. I didn't grow up here, but was pushed by a kindly classmate into a magical puddle and sent as a result to be drowned, maimed, humiliated, worshiped and even killed for the sake of a variety of sadistic jerks who treated me like a servant at best, and a pack a
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More