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Literature
Day 11
You garden bloom in blood- bright red flowers to which I did not know the name. Despite the neglecting and overgrown state of the rest of your garden, these peculiar flora sprouted as if it was spring.
It is not spring, however.
Winter was heavily coating everything it could reach in snow. I can feel snowflakes melting into my uncovered mess of brown hair.
I walk past the strange flowers, up to your doorstep. I knock twice.
No answer comes from the other side.
I turn the doorknob and sigh when it clicked open. It seems you were not only neglecting your garden. I open your unlocked door and enter a dusty room.
It looks as if you left in a hurry, which made my frown. You never left your home. You found your scientific abode far too comforting.
I walk slowly over the wooden floors, my own hollow footsteps becomes ominous to me. You like the quiet and so I don't question it at first. The silence continue when I enter your study. I glance at your lab table filled with beakers, teat tubes an
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Literature
Day 10
Dry air scorches the inside of his body.
From outside his body, his hands try to claw it away from his lungs. No such luck. His knees digs into the hot desert sand as he loses his balance.
He tilts his head backward in some delusional effort to cool it down. He opens his eyes to meet the glaring sun. It's growing. Faster. It's coming towards him.
He tries to wave it away.
It's still there.
It's still coming to burn him alive.
He grabs into the sand with his hands and starts crawling away from it. He has to survive. He cannot leave without finding what he came looking for. He searches the landscape through teary eyes. Everything looks coated gold.
Actual gold?
He lets out a laugh.
Did he find the gold?
He looks at the glittering sand inside his hands. He cannot believe his eyes, it is gold. He falls to the ground, hugging his treasure. He cannot feel his body anymore. Everything is burning hot but he couldn't care less. It was all worth it.
He has found his Egyptian treasure.
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Literature
Day 9
"You are a hoarder,  Erik. Look at this place," his sister frowns and pulls her lip as she notices the snake skin on the mantlepiece right next to her.
Erik runs both hands through his saggy hair. Unplanned, the somewhat get tangled in his messy locks.
"You don't understand, sis," He says, conspicuously trying to get his hands free from his head without her noticing.
"Oh, of course," she scoffs and starts rummaging among bits of scrap metal, "no one understand but you, is that right?"
Due to her carelessness (which he thoroughly does not appreciate), some metal pieces clatter to the ground.
"Tell me- I mean- help me understand why you do this, Erik?"
She went for her reserve tactic. Trying - or rather, pretending to try and understand. He glances at her. One hand is still in his hair. He'll just pretend it's because he wants it there.
His sister's green eyes burns into his own, "Come on, if I understand why then… maybe, " her glare deepens, "maybe I c
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Literature
Day 8 Challenge
The corner store is relatively quiet, as it should be around seven in the evening. Good. Not too many eyes that might spot a missing item.
She walks slowly pass the isles, pretending to look interested in things she cannot possibly afford. She tried her best to hand - combe her tangled mess of greasy hair into a respectable pony tail. Her old, ragged clothes was beyond her help. Hopefully the cashier is too tired to notice her obvious lack of money.
Subtly, she swipes a pre-made sandwich and slid it inside the ragged pocket of her jacket. She has no idea what's in the filling but it looks nice. Anything looks nice to a hungry stomach.
She keeps her hands outside of her pockets when she passes the cashier. She shrugs and smiles at him. He's middle-aged face wrinkles has he smiles back at her. She exits the shop.
She has mastered the art of shoplifting. To her, however, it's much more a survival skill than an art. She clench her jaw. The sandwich inside her pocket has become far too temp
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Literature
Day 7
They hear the rumbling of a car engine. Low and noisy.
They speed hastily to the front gate, nearly falling over their own paws. They shiver with excitement.
False alarm.
An unfamiliar car rush past them, completely unaware of the dancing dog behind green, towering fences. Jack Russells are normally restless. Nothing special.
Silly , they call themselves. How can they, the dutiful watchdog, forget the familiar sound of their owner's car engine. They've been hearing it almost each day for 6 years now. It is disgraceful that they can't recall it.
It must've been a long time then.
They look at their empty water and food bowl. A new rumbling sound emerges. This one originates from within their furry body.
Slowly they sit down, patiently waiting for a long-anticipated return.
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Literature
Day 6
Ink droplets smudge onto my fingers under the dim candlelight. Time is not on my side.
I write the quickest sentences, even forgetting a few punctuation marks. My words seem hollow in my rush. I'm not satisfied but they will have to do. For now.
I glance at the finished product. Ink oozes into the paper, forever trapping my words into their fibre. It will  have to do. For now.
I fold the paper twice and place it in an envelope. In a similar, rushed manner I scribble down the recipient's name.
Hopefully they understand...
(Knowing them, they probably won't.)
I blink the watery blur away from my eyes. Time is not on my side- I cannot linger. The letter is placed next to their bed and without a second glance, I move towards the front door.
They will wake up tomorrow with me gone and a messy letter to explain everything. It's not nearly enough but it will have to do.
It will simply have to do… for now.
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Literature
Day 5
One last star flickers violently in the cold, unforgiving atmosphere - the last of its kind, protesting against its inevitable fate.
Seconds later, it fades away entirely -the last of its kind, now gone for all eternity.

---
Zuria adjusts her telescope, frowning worrying when she only sees a dark empty void again. Last night there were still stars in the sky. There must be a mistake.
"Something wrong?" She hears her grandmother's voice behind her. They came together, to search for the stars.
"Well…" she bites her lip, "I can't find any stars tonight…"
Her grandmother replies with a sigh.
She glances behind her. A pair of saddened eyes meets hers. Thin wrinkles indent around them as her grandmother gives her a small smile,
"Looks like that is the end of them, then…"
Pain pangs inside of Zuria's chest, along with a strange nostalgia as she remembers the last star she ever saw. It wasn't that bright, but it was a star nonetheless.
She wish she could see the night
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Literature
Day 4 - Challenge
Oak bodies stand tall, reaching towards each other with ivy-cladded arms, smudging green accross the sky. Their roots sink deep into dark earthy soil, establishing their place in the world.
A sudden white spark ignites on dry leaves. Golden-orange flames swirl like graceful dancers, searching for life. They crackle fiery secrets of destruction and rebirth to a nervously silent forest.
An invisible ally fuel the fire's hidden rage. It spirals and swirls, breathing life into the orange glow. It brushes gently against the trees and leaves, howling a soft apology.
The sky thunders in discontent. Grey and blue melt into each other while the sky cries over a glowing forest. Fire slowly ceases, seeking forgiveness as rain silences its rage.
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Literature
Day 3 (Communication)
I don't understand why you're angry. I didn't say anything wrong - I tried not to say anything wrong.
I knock on your door. You're still angry.
I have no idea what went wrong. What did I say? How did we end up fighting again ?
I know tomorrow we'll be all right again. We'll talk like nothing happened. Though, it's only a matter of time. We're a ticking time bomb. Something will happen and we'll fight again.
I don't know why but you always say I know all too well what I did wrong. I don't. I keep track of every sentence that I form now, censoring anything that might offend you.
I knock on your door again. You don't open or utter a word.
I don't understand.
What did I say wrong?
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Literature
Red Snow
The woman is wearing a navy coat. She walks slightly hesitant across the snow-covered street,  clutching an envelope tightly in her hand.
In front of her is a café. It's small and mdoern, with black and red table cloths. Although her heart is trying to claw its way up her throat, she keeps her face neutral when she enters through the door.
Her eyes search through the room until she finds him. He sits alone, as expected. He wears the signature blue scarf. She darts her eyes to the envelope in her pale hands. Against its off - white skin, a red stamp screams at her.
Confidential.
She takes a deep breath and makes her way towards the man. In front of him in a cup of coffee. Untouched. Clearly, he is waiting for someone. For her.
She does as she was instructed, placing the envelope next to his coffee as she walks past him. No eye contact. No words.
To avoid any suspicion as to why she (really) entered the café,  she heads to the counter.
"Can I get you anything?"
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Literature
Winter-Kissed Veins
She lays in solitude on yellow-dried grass, staring up at the spiderweb branches above her. Winter has kissed away all traces of bloom.
Lazily, her pale fingers trace the cherry blossom tree's barren veins, mimicking their every curve. It's a lazy, late afternoon- she silently anticipates some sort of company.
A white flash catches her attention. A single dove makes its landing on the tree, tired after a long flight. Curiously it examines her, a shy admirer of nature (yearning for someone who would share her admiration). She smiles slightly and shrugs.
A dove's company is just as good as any other.
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Literature
Arrival
I curl my shoulders inward, trying to stay warm in the crisp early morning chill. I am early. The train station is barren with only a few individuals quietly waiting for their train.
I have no ticket. My objective differs from theirs.
I came to welcome her back.
A school-boyish grin forms on my lips. After three weeks, I am starved with longing.
I bravely pull my left hand out of my coat's pocket, exposing it to the cold. The watch she bought me announces that it is 7:50. Only ten more minutes.
I lean against the wall, aimlessly staring at the dirty floor in front of me as I recall our last goodbye. She left to look after her ill aunt, who lived miles away from me. I buried my face in her deep red curls, dreading the weeks to come when I would be deprived of her. She smiled at my reluctance - that smile could warm my entire soul in one second- and kissed me goodbye before stepping onto the train. Since then, she has only visited me in my dreams.
Anxious to see her again, I glanc
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Literature
A Few Flash Fiction Scribbles
Pale Blue
Evangeline was wearing a pale blue dress that day. As always, her urburn tinted hair was only tied in a bun. A small string of pearls was her only choice of accessories.  She always looked so elegant with minimal effort - it's what I envied about her the most.
My own attempts to mimic her always resulted in a messy affair. My mousy hair was too static to look neat and I was not allowed to wear jewellery yet. Granted, I was only a mere eleven year old girl at the time. Yet, like most younger sisters, I always dreamt of being like my elder sister.
She was really beautiful. And kind. She had all the attributes that could have gotten her many suitors. Could have. She barely ever left the house.
She never did, to be frank.
Mother did not allow her. She didn't want people to see the way her daughter pull and tore at her sleeves whenever she was around people. She didn't want them to hear how Eva stammered when spoken to by strangers. It chilled her to the bone whenever
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Literature
Blink
Blurry red lights.
That's the first thing I noticed.
I felt a burning pain gnawing at my right leg next. Then the headache, which felt more like a giant crushing my skull. I couldn't think.
Blink.
I couldn't breathe.
"Miss?"
The voice was faint. Urgent, but faint.
"Miss?"
A hand touched my arm. I wanted to flinch and pull away but nothing happened. All my energy was involuntarily focused on the excruciating pain in my leg. If I was more impressionable, I'd believe it if someone told me creature were tearing away my nerves.
Blink.
"Miss? Can you hear me?" The voice echoed louder this time.
I can.
I just can't get myself to stop clenching my teeth.
"I need you to stay awake," I noticed his middle-aged  blue eyes this time. They were concerned.
"We need a stretcher!" He yelled to someone.
Blink.
What happened?
I moved my eyes to the left and then the right, meeting a horribly mangled car. It seemed to have crushed into a street lamp.
I felt the force of that accident deep in my stoma
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Literature
Forest Fox
Flashes of emerald and olive green blurred past the corner of my eyes.
It was dark and shadows danced all over the forest floor. A stranger might be terrified but not me. This was my home.
The earlier rain that fell this day had seeped into the dark soil. Each time my crimson paws met the ground, they were splattered with mud.
My athletic body glided accross the muddy ground, though, as if it was nothing. When I was a youngling I used to slip so many times, covering my entire fur coat in mud. Right now, I would prefer not to fall. The mud would be cold and I had youngsters who needed my warm furry body to serve as a blanket. Sadly, only two survived this winter and this stolen chicken that I had clutched between my teeth was for them.
Hopefully me, as well.
If the little greedy ball of fluffs left me any.
I took a sharp and sudden turn to the left, almost losing my balance. A huge hollowed oak tree were before me. Two pair of huge black eyes curiously stared at me as I slowed my pace.
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Literature
Six Words #4
Ignorance sometimes (often) creates arrogant opinions.
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Favourites

I've Crossed Oceans Of Blood To Find You by GoryZombies I've Crossed Oceans Of Blood To Find You :icongoryzombies:GoryZombies 9 2 Picolo-Kun's Sun by MissJuxtaposition Picolo-Kun's Sun :iconmissjuxtaposition:MissJuxtaposition 158 9 .: Harry Potter: Avada Kedavra by Picolo-kun .: Harry Potter: Avada Kedavra :iconpicolo-kun:Picolo-kun 12,365 274 Clay by rainbowfoxdragon Clay :iconrainbowfoxdragon:rainbowfoxdragon 7 10
Literature
You Can Leave
You can leave,
While you think
That we're better off
Without you.
You can leave,
While you cry
Yourself to sleep
Each night.
You can leave,
While you picture
All of us
Enjoying life.
You can leave,
While you wish
You were able
To stay forever.
You can leave,
While you tell
Yourself obvious
Lies daily.
But don't.
It's not worth it.
You're making
Yourself miserable
By imagining
All of this is true.
You can leave,
While we worry
About your health
And safety.
You can leave,
While you remember
How much we all
Love you.
You can leave,
While you know
That you will not
Be forgotten
Or replaced.
:iconrainbowfoxdragon:rainbowfoxdragon
:iconrainbowfoxdragon:rainbowfoxdragon 13 13
Commission: Meriko by kiimcakes Commission: Meriko :iconkiimcakes:kiimcakes 14 26 Library reference-Humans by ArtistsHospital Library reference-Humans :iconartistshospital:ArtistsHospital 14,970 722
Literature
you would have loved me.
                  ​ivory ink skinned,
      delicate lavender and chamomile
         braided helix into her stygian hair,
  desert roses at the aethereal curves of her shoulders.
there's something so soft about summer mornings.
and like magic, i can write again.
i'm twisting my hands around a staff of acacia,
trailing in the path of nomads and vague directions
intended to an oasis, surrounded
with blooming cacti and the prettiest mirages.
i'll say i was lost on purpose.
scarlet scarf around your head, playing the cithara
that you stole from a soldier,
your boots kicked the sand up and i laughed.
found you, little red, and you found me.
did you know the dunes breathe with oak lungs? that the
    stars at nightfall seem to shoot towards earth?
              that timber wolves are not
 what they appear?
           
:iconPatchworkLynx:PatchworkLynx
:iconpatchworklynx:PatchworkLynx 30 23
Literature
Where Seagulls Dare
    “There’s no escape, you know.”
    Thomas put his head on one side, slapping the water out of his ear. “Sorry?”
    “There’s no escape...from the island.” The heavily bearded man gave him a stare. “The same rocks that sank your vessel have defeated my every attempt at floating a raft.”
    “Oh.” Thomas wasn’t sure exactly what one was supposed to say in this situation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “There’s food enough to get by here, if you don’t mind bitter roots, insects, sour berries. That’s almost the cruellest thing.” Beneath his stitched-leaf hat, his eyes gazed out to sea. “Compared with the open ocean, this place offers a fair chance of survival. But can it really be called living? Trapped here...on the island?”
    
:iconDamonWakes:DamonWakes
:icondamonwakes:DamonWakes 145 71
Literature
Sicklefox
    Once upon a time there was a naughty boy. He was about your age, if I’m not mistaken. This naughty boy loved to run and jump and play with his friends, but more than anything he loved sweet things. So when he spied the baker coming down the street with two trays of iced buns, he wasted no time in running over to him.
    “Aren’t you afraid carrying all those buns?” asked the naughty little boy.
    “Afraid?” asked the baker. “Of course not—why would I be?”
    “Why,” lied the naughty boy, “because Sicklefox likes nothing better than iced buns, and I hear he is nearby. If he finds you, he’ll cut out your tongue and eat it.”
    The baker stopped. This was new to him, but all had heard tales of Sicklefox and all knew them to be true.
    “Perhaps I should take half,” said
:iconDamonWakes:DamonWakes
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Literature
The New Spirits of the Old Land
-
In the beginning there was them. The Spirits.
For as long as the land has been home to humans, there have been spirits to look over them, guide them, and represent them. The spirits could take many forms; from the smallest ant to the strongest Kangaroo. They could be the wind, or fire; or even the trees in the forests of rain.
For the millennia that followed they did what they were made to do. The spirits cared for the land, and in turn taught their mortal kin the same. They learned the ancient language of the land; learned words that could make mountains rise from plains or disappear entirely.
For a long, long time, there was peace, and plenty, and joy.
Then the sea strangers came, on their beasts of wood and steel.
Then everything changed.
-
1. (AHVIS)
Gaagudju died today.
I am flying in my Falcon-Skin when I find out; soaring across the arid and sun-drowned land I call home. I am searching for a stray rabbit or lizard when I see Tawn of the Desert, sprawled out on a flat-to
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Literature
Skin
Today I have on my second skin.
It is not truly my second though, or my third, or even my thirteenth. No, I lost track of counting how many different skins I have worn sometime after the two-hundred-and-eighty-third. After all, time starts to lose its meaning when one has lived as long as I; which is to say the better part of five millennia.
But for now, it is my second skin. And although it is nothing like my true one, it will suffice.
Pushing myself up from the cold timber floor, I look at the surroundings that I will inhabit for the foreseeable future. In the dim light of the morning winter sun, I can see that a double bed with a polished steel frame sits in the corner of the room, its blankets unmade and pushed to the side. A large bookshelf lies across from it, and next to that, a small computer table, messed with notes and papers. It is a typical teenage abode.
Currently, the whole room seems dishevelled, although I believe it was this skin that had caused it. The soul - Sarah, h
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Literature
FFM Links - 19 July 2017
Welcome to Flash Fiction Month, day NINETEEN.
Chekhov's gun has gone off, leaving your ears ringing. But do not let go just yet, for your worst fear is just around the corner.
Today's optional theme is phobia. Dig deep into the recesses of your (or your character's) mind and confront the nightmares you encounter there.
Instructions
Flash Fiction Month is about writing – and posting – a story between 55-1000 words in length every day during July. Each day we'll upload a deviation with optional prompts, themes, and the occasional challenge, where you can post a link to your story for the day.
Paste a link to your flash fiction piece for July 19th in the comments below.
If you write a story every day and complete every challenge, you might be eligible to win something, and you'll certainly get a whiter smile, be invited to more parties and impr
:iconFlash-Fic-Month:Flash-Fic-Month
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Literature
Day 10
My mother never understood what I meant when I asked her about the shadow butterflies. It seemed to upset her every time I brought it up so over the years I learned to keep quiet about them.
I called them shadow butterflies because that's what they looked like to me, pure shadow in the shape of butterflies. I changed their names to black butterflies later on when I realised that shadows are supposed to evaporate in the presence of light but even in the summer sun they wouldn't disappear.
The first time I saw them was when I was two. I had found a dead mouse that my ginger cat had abandoned in the kitchen, seemingly losing interest in the dirty body when he smelled his bowl of wet food in the corner.
They were strange, about half the size of the poor mouse with flimsy wings and no patterns. Just sleek ebony.
I had fetched my mum, my chubby finger pointing at the two butterflies just sitting there on the little body. She clicked her tongue, remarking how it was such a shame it had to die
:iconGlasses-And-Blades:Glasses-And-Blades
:iconglasses-and-blades:Glasses-And-Blades 15 9
Literature
celebrate
holidays
so quickly fade
away
:iconcattservant:cattservant
:iconcattservant:cattservant 7 2
Literature
war song
words have been the iron 
i girded my broken bones with
inky armour in the image
of my mind
you use words i thought i knew
ideas i thought i understood
to melt my armour in the furnace
of reinvention
i know the feeling of having the air
forced from my lungs by a fist
with so many words you have stripped me
and it is this
i am stronger when my pieces are
held together by the words of others
and theirs by mine
don’t preach peace and seek to divide
:iconAngeloDellaMusica:AngeloDellaMusica
:iconangelodellamusica:AngeloDellaMusica 16 2

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Activity


You garden bloom in blood- bright red flowers to which I did not know the name. Despite the neglecting and overgrown state of the rest of your garden, these peculiar flora sprouted as if it was spring.

It is not spring, however.

Winter was heavily coating everything it could reach in snow. I can feel snowflakes melting into my uncovered mess of brown hair.

I walk past the strange flowers, up to your doorstep. I knock twice.

No answer comes from the other side.

I turn the doorknob and sigh when it clicked open. It seems you were not only neglecting your garden. I open your unlocked door and enter a dusty room.

It looks as if you left in a hurry, which made my frown. You never left your home. You found your scientific abode far too comforting.

I walk slowly over the wooden floors, my own hollow footsteps becomes ominous to me. You like the quiet and so I don't question it at first. The silence continue when I enter your study. I glance at your lab table filled with beakers, teat tubes and what-nots. There is a thin layer of dust coating them. I stop.

You do not like dust.

I frantically look around the room, spotting a torn piece of paper on your study desk. Black ink is calligraphied accross is in a hurriedly manner. I cross the room and anxiously reach for it, half - expecting the ink to smear against my fingers.

It is completely dry.

I tentatively bring the paper closer. I frown, thinking maybe I'm reading the words wrong but the words remain the same after a blinked twice:

The red is blood.

A strange hissing sounds draw my attention to the window next to me to find the peculiar red flowers ranking up against it.

My heart freezes as I realize they have teeth.
Day 11
Eleventh entry for :iconflash-fic-month:

I didn't use a prompt for this one x.x though I tried writting it sort of with scifi/apocalyptic theme in mind...I've been written it on and off for a week or so.. but I think it's more or less okay to post now x.x (Sorry for any errors..)

Words: 315

Thanks for reading! o.o
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So I've been a bit absent from DA for a while x.x.. mainly due to a lack of wifi and I started rewatching/watching a series that's really suspenseful o.o

Anyway ^.^ hi again and please let me know if there's any works of yours (or other people) that I can check out!
Dry air scorches the inside of his body.

From outside his body, his hands try to claw it away from his lungs. No such luck. His knees digs into the hot desert sand as he loses his balance.

He tilts his head backward in some delusional effort to cool it down. He opens his eyes to meet the glaring sun. It's growing. Faster. It's coming towards him.

He tries to wave it away.

It's still there.

It's still coming to burn him alive.

He grabs into the sand with his hands and starts crawling away from it. He has to survive. He cannot leave without finding what he came looking for. He searches the landscape through teary eyes. Everything looks coated gold.

Actual gold?

He lets out a laugh.

Did he find the gold?

He looks at the glittering sand inside his hands. He cannot believe his eyes, it is gold. He falls to the ground, hugging his treasure. He cannot feel his body anymore. Everything is burning hot but he couldn't care less. It was all worth it.

He has found his Egyptian treasure.
Day 10
10th entry for :iconflash-fic-month: (slowly catching up!)

Okay, so my initial prompt was this picture:
noahbradley.deviantart.com/art…

The picture then reminded me of a poem we did in school, Sunstrike by Douglas Livingstone, which greatly inspired this piece..

Words: 176

Enjoy and thank you for reading ^.^
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"You are a hoarder,  Erik. Look at this place," his sister frowns and pulls her lip as she notices the snake skin on the mantlepiece right next to her.

Erik runs both hands through his saggy hair. Unplanned, the somewhat get tangled in his messy locks.

"You don't understand, sis," He says, conspicuously trying to get his hands free from his head without her noticing.

"Oh, of course," she scoffs and starts rummaging among bits of scrap metal, "no one understand but you, is that right?"

Due to her carelessness (which he thoroughly does not appreciate), some metal pieces clatter to the ground.

"Tell me- I mean- help me understand why you do this, Erik?"

She went for her reserve tactic. Trying - or rather, pretending to try and understand. He glances at her. One hand is still in his hair. He'll just pretend it's because he wants it there.

His sister's green eyes burns into his own, "Come on, if I understand why then… maybe, " her glare deepens, "maybe I can understand."

There's a silence.

"I…" His voice trails away. He shrugs, " I mean, I…"

He looks at her again and her face has soften. For a moment he falls for it.

"I just find it comforting, you know… it's like they understand- they can't judge me and their beautiful and I help them as the help me- look, come look at this," He suddenly remembers something. The perfect metaphor.

He scrambles around in the bookshelf behind him till he grabs hold of a leather bound book. He opens it very carefully to reveal a huge collection of pressed weeds.

"See this? I - it, it's a solander," He smiles at her. The softness has fled from her face but he tries to ignore it, "it protects them. It preserves them. I mean, most people? They hate weeds, they'd leave them to rot at any moment but I take care of them. I understand that t-they are just who they are and n-n-"

The solander is snapped out of his hands.

"Get. A. Hold. Of. Yourself." Each words is laced with poison. His sister paces towards his window and flungs the book with a furious motion out of the room.

He wants to scream and yell at her. They were his friends. He was their friend and they trusted hin to protect them. He wants yell all that to her fave but it seems that his voice was also flung out of that window. He is absolutely silent.

"You're losing touch with reality, Erik," his sister takes a silence as a sign of acceptance. The softness is back, "I'll come around tomorrow, okay?" She touches his arm gently, although it burns like acid through his shirt, "and then we get rid of this? Once and for all.  It'll be very therapeutic."

She squeezes his arm and makes her way to his door. Before she leaves she turns around again. Her face completely blank,

"And, Erik," she scoffs the words, "Brush your hair, will you?"
Day 9
9th entry for :iconflash-fic-month: (also very overdue, sorry x.x..)

Prompt: solander (noun) - a protective box made in the form of a book, for holding such items as botanical specimens, maps, papers, etc.

Words: 510

Also haven't edited this one much (to tell you the truth, I finished it this morning x.x) so please excuse any error..

Thanks for reading! ^.^
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The corner store is relatively quiet, as it should be around seven in the evening. Good. Not too many eyes that might spot a missing item.

She walks slowly pass the isles, pretending to look interested in things she cannot possibly afford. She tried her best to hand - combe her tangled mess of greasy hair into a respectable pony tail. Her old, ragged clothes was beyond her help. Hopefully the cashier is too tired to notice her obvious lack of money.

Subtly, she swipes a pre-made sandwich and slid it inside the ragged pocket of her jacket. She has no idea what's in the filling but it looks nice. Anything looks nice to a hungry stomach.

She keeps her hands outside of her pockets when she passes the cashier. She shrugs and smiles at him. He's middle-aged face wrinkles has he smiles back at her. She exits the shop.

She has mastered the art of shoplifting. To her, however, it's much more a survival skill than an art. She clench her jaw. The sandwich inside her pocket has become far too tempting. The further away from the corner store she is though, the better.

It's been over a decade since she has been without a proper home. Despite the difficulty she much rather preferred looking after herself. Years of observation and practice led to swiping simple objects from grocery shelves as her way of survival. Only the necessities, however. Her only desire was to survive. In any case, what would she do with overly priced and, in her opinion, meaningless objects.

She crosses the street, making her way pass a few more commercial stores. In front of a liquor store she spots them. Two young children, obviously just as penniless as herself. They sunken cheeks and bony arms are evidence of their lack of food. Their lack of skill to survive.

The newly stolen sandwich burns inside her pocket. She tries to ignore it however. Everyone fro themselves. She earned her food. She fastens her pace as she passes them. Her heart does a weird thing. It feels like it's pulling downwards towards her shoes. She stops. Slowly she glances behind her, watching as two pairs of hungry eyes pretend not to look her way. She bites her lip.

She slowly tosses her sandwich towards them. It's caught and tore apart withing seconds. She waits for reluctance to sink in, though it's a lot more milder than she expected.

As a sharp pain hits her stomach, she starts searching for a new corner store.
Day 8 Challenge
I know, I know x.x this is extremely long overdue...

8th entry for :iconflash-fic-month: and I did the challenge, Hands of Fate... I rolled 1, 1, 6.

Words: 424

I apologise for any mistakes, since I haven't thoroughly edited this piece yet o.o

Anyway! Thank you for reading ^.^
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So it's finally the end of my semester and I wrote my last exam today x.x... now I can finally have a look at all these tagged questions!  

:iconh0p3-t0-d13: 'squestions:

1. tell me about a time you really appreciated your shoes.
- At this very moment I cannot remember of a specific time, however I know I'm always glad when I don't have to walk on the smoldering hot sand at the beach with my bare feet.

2. what's your favorite summer food, and why?
- I'll go with watermelon.. though I don't really know why.. it's refreshing?

3. do you post your artistry anywhere else?
- I post some of my drawings and photos on Facebook? My poetry, however, I only post on DeviantArt.

4. do you like salad? any kind counts, but you should be specific.
- I love salad! 0.0 really almost any type.. chicken salad, greek salad, tuna salad.. I'm not too fond of pasta or potato salads though.. it depends

5. call or text?
- Call.. sometimes people can misunderstand what you mean over a text.

6. ever had a run-in with the police? can you tell me about it?
- I have not

7. what kind of shows do you watch on tv? (if you don't, what do you do with your spare time?)
- I watch series and anime, though usually not on tv. I like crime mystery series, comedy (depends though) and fantasy. Occasionally I would watch a documentary of the topic interests me. I also read, write, draw, take pictures and listen to music in my spare time..
 
8. jewelry person or nah?
- I like rings and leather bracelets but I don't wear them in excess.. I also have two silver studs in each earlobe ^.^

9. when you sleep is it better to be too warm or too cold? fluffyblanketsforthewin
-Definitely fluffy blankets!
 
10. are you experimental with your art? would you try a different medium from your preferred one once in a while?
- I do but not as often as I would like.. I would like to practise certain mediums more (like painting and printmaking) I've also tried haiku and sonnet (once) formats with my poetry and have recently tried doing six word stories

11. fond of antiques? or more modern? i'm a typewriter person myself i even got an electric one from an old lady
- Antiques. I'm a bit of a nostalgic being.. antique objects just have so much character and history which really intrigues me.

12. rather read old books or new books? (or both or neither i suppose)
- Both. A book is a book is a book.. I love them either way. Both have their own unique character

13. do you have any superstitions? can i read about them
- I like to do things in six? Like maybe count to six or have six things to do for the day? I dunno if that counts as a superstition or just a weird habit x.x

:iconfrostedqueen: 's questions:

1. 5 of your favorite Tv Shows?
  - Big Bang Theory
  - Prison Break (old favourite)
  - NCIS (the older seasons)
  - QI
  -does anime count?

2. 5 of your favorite book series?

- I have so many x.x but here's 5 of them:
   Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
   The Gone Series, Michael Grant
   The Iron Fey Series, Julie Kagawa
   Graceling, Kristin Cashore
    Thirteen Treasures, Michelle Harrison

3. Put your phone on shuffle and choose 5 random songs and write them down. :)
   Wolf King, Two Steps From Hell
   Cloud Nine, Evanescence
   Freedom, Flyleaf
   You're My Best Friend, Queen
   Evolution of Music, Pentatonix

4. 5 of your favorite YouTubers?
   
-.. I only know Dan and Phil x.x

5. Favorite mythological creature?

- Ah, so many here as well... let's go with Naiad (water nymph) and dryad  (tree numph) this time.. and Faeries (the old folklore type)

6. What other social media platforms do you use other than DeviantArt?

- Facebook.. I have a writetheworld account as well

7. Would you like to live in the city, near the ocean, in the country?

- I can't really choose.. they're all unique in their own way but I've always liked the idea of living in the country (probably because I never have)

8. What's your favorite cheap and what's your favorite pricy brand?
- Cheap is probably just normal stuff? No name brands... uhm pricey is probably cherokee.. though I'm very paranoid with my money and usually try to buy the more affordable options
 
9. Do you have a celebrity crush? ^^ xx

- Not at the moment

10. Are you a makeup fan?

- Nope, the only make up I can apply with confidence is eyeliner

11. Is there anything that you want to change in your life at the moment?

- A few small changes..

12. What's one of your bad habits?

- I'm impatient sometimes.. I also chew my nails, inside of my lips and fingertips..

13. What is the last item that you bought?

- I paid to print one of my projects


:iconsandyrockdragon: 's questions:

1. What's your MBTI personality type?
- INFP-T

2. What's your favourite part of the night sky?
The fact that it's infinite.. and I like how calm I can feel when I look up at the stars.

3. A scent you really like?
Good filter coffee, cinnamon and the smell of wet soil after it rained o.o

4. What's something that reminds you of someone? You can into specifics or be vague as much as you want.
Sometimes a certain smell remind me of someone.. or I just sometimes get a random flash of a place in my mind that I associate with a certain person..

5. What's a colour you feel represents you?
Grey - blue

6. Do you remember your dreams? If yes, could you share one with me?
Sometimes...

7. What's something you love about DA?
I love how supportive people are here.. I'm not that confident in my work but it still makes me extremely excited when someone faved or commented on my work..

8. How do you hope Earth will be in the future?
Honestly, I wish there could be more nature than urbanisation though we all know that's a very idealistic dream x.x..

9. Small talk or deep conversations?
Deep conversations. I get extremely awkward or bored with small talk x.x

10. Do you keep a notepad by your bed?
No... I used to when I was still trying to keep a journal.

11. If you could trade places with someone for a day, who would it be?
I'd be too awkward in someone else's life x.x..

12. Rain or sun? Why?
Rain. It's just extremely calming to me.. huge thunder storms are perfect for making me forget reality for a moment XD

13. If you could travel anywhere, where would it be?
There's a few places.. Rome v.v for the architecture,  Holland (sentimental reasons), Japan cuz anime XD and a few other places I can't remember now... And of course many of the worlds in my beloved fantasy books x.x

Thanks for actually reading this! ^.^

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AtypicalLily
Lily
Artist | Student | Varied
South Africa
Female || INFP-T || 16th April 1998 || Student || South African || Aries-but-does-not-feel-as-such || Athazagoraphobic || Blue-eyed || Christian || Introvert || Daydreamer || Artist || Bookworm || Photography || Music || Silent observer ||



Lover of music, admirer of literature, enthusiast of art and hopeless daydreamer.. ^.^
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Supach Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for faving :)
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Thank you very much for the favorites :)
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FrostFeather42 Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the faves on my FFM stuff! It's greatly appreciated!
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HarkenMyRevenge Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for favoriting :)
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AtypicalLily Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2017  Student General Artist
Any time! :)
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EmaciatedandEpitaphs Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2017
Hello,
Thank you ever-so-kindly for the favorites and the watch! Your support is greatly appreciated. 
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AtypicalLily Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2017  Student General Artist
You're welcome! ^.^
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Serendiipitii Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2017  Student General Artist
Thank you for the support, I really appreciate it! rainbow heart 2 
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AtypicalLily Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2017  Student General Artist
You're welcome! :heart: :star:
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thank you kindly for the :+fav: on grasped! :heart:
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