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The Dracona Society Ch1
Three people, a raven haired young woman, a blonde one that appeared to be slightly older, and a blonde teenage girl, all ran to the end of a hallway. To their right was a simple wooden door, to their left and in front of them, a wall. "Where's..." the raven haired one started. "I've hidden him. Give me Astrid, I'll protect her too." The teen said.
"No,no I can't." The raven haired said. "This. Is. Happening. Anne. Give Astrid to Tarine." The older blonde said to Anne. "There they are!" Someone shouted. "Now, Anne!" the older blonde said.
"Take them to their father," "There's not enough time to take them both! One will have to live with never knowing!" The older said. Anne reluctantly handed the child she had been holding close over to Tarine. As soon as Astrid was in her arms, Tarine ran past the soldiers that had been coming her way. Before they could grab her she disappeared through a door and into a hidden passage way.
"Where did she go
A Place called ParadiseMaybe he should blame Annabelle. After all, if she hadn't left and broken his heart, he wouldn't have been to upset to watch the road. Then again, he was the one who proposed at only nineteen years old. They were together for three years, they met when he was eighteen. He's twenty one now, she's gone and he's dead. Wait, dead? Then why is he thinking to himself? You can't think when you're dead right? Or did he actually make it to paradise? No, not possible. You can't feel pain when you're in Heaven right? Heaven was supposed to be pain free. Mathias was aware of pain, of course, and of a steady beeping sound. A hospital, of course. Where else would you go after you've been in a motorcycle accident? It was raining outside, he could hear it all more clearly now. He opened his eyes; the room was small and dark. The lights were turned off except the bedside lamp, light flooded the doorway from the hallway. It was relatively quiet, except for a few people outside the room. Nurses were ta
THINGS MY WIFE SAYS THAT STICK WITH ME.You may be wondering what the socks are for in my artwork. Well, in the movie, my wife tells me that she has packed 'some black socks' for me in my bag as I am about to go hunt the shark. The thing is, I do not like black socks. Do you think she was trying to tell me something? The whole trip on that boat, I couldn't get those black socks out of my head. People were dying and all I could think about were those black socks.
The book.Diana Grey walked down the darkened stairway of the library. All she had to do was go down to the basement and prove her friend wrong about this certain type of book. It was once said that the elders of the town had hidden a book in the basement, keeping it away from prying eyes of the public. Diana believed that this was just a rumor the town’s people thought of. She couldn’t wait to tell her about this book not being there.
Her footsteps echoed off the hallways, making large slapping noises as the bottoms of her shoes hit the stairs. She kept telling herself that she was almost there, just a few more steps then she was there.
Book chapter 2.Mr. Grey's eyes went wide, he turned to look at Diana then back at his wife, his mouth opened as if he had something to say, and then shut. “What do you mean, 'she's pregnant'?”
“We all believe she was raped, but there is no evidence that she had sex, other then, you know, her being pregnant. All the doctors are stumped on this.”
After the conversation with her father, she decided it was time for bed. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes burned for sleep, she rolled over and looked at her clock, and the numbers flashed 10:03 PM. She sighed and closed her eyes; slowly she started to picture herself on
Plague (Flash Fiction)Plague masks bobbing in a sea of tangible shadow
Delirium courses through me like tides of madness
The scent of burning bodies stings my nostrils
Phasing in and out
A needle sliding into my veins
Fading, fading, fading
InsomniaStrange sounds on sleepless nights
Silver bells, tolling bright
Sing me something sad and slow
Slip into the undertow
Seeing sights that are not there
Seeing sunlight everywhere
Silent sleeper, not a peep
Surely, I just need some sleep
More GhostsGhosts drift up from the cellar floor
Hiding secrets old as dust, old as bones
Their screams, now only whispers
Won't keep me awake for even a single night
Ghosts beckon from the forest
Deep in the trees I find their graves,
Their forgotten stone homes
I can feel them in my teeth, such old souls
And yet they remember everything
Ghosts visit me in my dreams
Far away, in space they come to me
Nobody remembers the dead
A P M T A LAmphetamine Pushes Me Toward A Light
This document, either in your hands or displayed upon the screen of your computer, is perhaps the first of its kind. It is written in a format that I created, and therefore, I cannot simply launch into what I have written without having provided this brief explanation of how this book was written. And so, here is what you need to know before you begin your ambitious attempt to traverse the dark, dense forest that is my mind: The first and most important thing that you need to understand about my writing is that no matter how you categorize it, it that you should NEVER assume that what I have written is fa
You See a Wineglass, I See a BridgeSlender glass expressions,
Like the ghost of particle momentum,
Lost somewhere between space and time.
An echo of a scream from another universe
Hidden far beyond the cosmos, yet very nearly here.
Quantum light can leap between home
And a dimension just beyond our perception
Manifested in crystal glass mathematics.
GhostNot a single fingerprint was left behind.
It was the perfect crime.
They never saw it coming; nor did they see me go.
High Noon's SongA clean syringe.
The traintrack hatchback left from stash spots top shelf.
You know what else? Stay smile sing! See the sun join the fun,
Dawn long gone with high noon's song.
Do you remember me?
Ghosts and memories, the truth you'll never see.
The world is all just god's bad dream.
Sky Iron Mantis KingI am washing away beneath a flood of mechanical insects.
Mantises hewn from meteoric iron race about around me.
Each is a masterpiece of engineering, exactingly shaped by the right hand of the cosmos.
I know each one by name. I sing to them; the words are ancient, foreign, and deep.
I serenade the scuttling masses in a tongue long lost to the mind but native to the soul.
After years of searching, I know I have discovered my heartsong.
The sky-iron marvels dance in precise unison; my song calls them to live within me forever.
I smile as they slip under my skin and into my veins.
I sigh as they transfigure dirty blood into electric str
Nobody DreamsEverything will be okay; I am in the pursuit of happier things. Sometimes it seems black, and endless, and the darkness swallows up everything. But everything is shining; an illusion. None of this is real, but that's okay. Is this a dream? Maybe I am sleepwalking. Maybe I am wakewalking. Real? Try unimportant. Questioning my own existance is only a game; just another paradox to marvel at. Time? the clock says midnight on the dot. I say five in the morning. But by then, its been a week. You are not dying; you are a wave. You build up like a mighty tsunami, gaining strength with experience. It is not time spent; it is life lived. I close my eye
ZenithIt was about ten o'clock at night when I went outside the house, on one hand I carried a folding chair, in the other a glass of apple flavor soda. It had been announced a meteor shower tonight, and I wanted to see the show, I put the saddle on the wet grass and sat comfortably in the cold night air, waiting with excitement for the spectacle to start.
It was cold and the wind was blowing slightly cooling my body, but it wasn't uncomfortable, yet nobody in my family wanted to accompany me. Not for the cold or humid air, simply they didn't show the same interest as me, I could not blame them, the sky in the city was depressing, only the moon hi
The prisionerThe mammoth stone door stands before her, with a gray color and covered with arcane runes. A strong shudder ran through her body, knowing what lay in those mountains, the evil locked behind those monolithic doors, but she needs to go, she must do it.
She pull out of her pocket a strange object, triangular and with a metallic luster, she puts it into an opening on the door, it trembles slightly and she can hear the loud crunch of metal, as the ancient gear mechanism began to operate. She push with all her might, the door shakes hard and slowly begins to open, while damp and putrid air emanates from the interior, making her walk backward.
The search - prologueThe darkness reigned in those ancient ruins, the smell of damp and death permeated the air. Illuminated only by the fading light of the fire, which at that damn place shone with an evil tone, was a man standing behind a table full of books, studying them in detail, on the floor were scattered numerous volumes, all covered in black with scarlet letters.
Something is moving beneath his clothes, puts his hand on his jacket and pulls out a little rag doll, puts it on the table, and it begins to move as if has life itself and in an almost human way.
"Have you found it?" Sounds a sweet and beautiful voice that seems to come from the doll.
Rebound GirlThere was a girl speaking French on the bus on Tuesday morning. Her voice bubbled up over the rattling growl of the engine and mingled with the muffled ballad coming from the driver’s tinny radio. Robbie leaned his head against the dusty window, crushing his curly hair against his cheek. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what she looked like. She laughed and scolded the other person on the phone in French. Robbie chuckled to himself. She must be a stunner with a voice like that.The jerk of the bus pulling up at the stop banged his head against the glass and he rubbed at his temple as he heard the girl finish her conversation and snap her handbag shut. He leaned his elbow against the edge of the window and peered over his shoulder at her as she stood up.It was her eyes that struck him first. Big doe eyes with a dreamy faraway expression like a girl in an old impressionist painting. Her hair was deep velvet brown that boun
Runaway DaydreamI'll find you on a day with a late eighties sunset, the city and the river painted Polaroid orange by the hazy sun. I'll slide on my scratched sunglasses and lean against the train window and watch the power poles flick past. The suits and the students brush past each other on the footpath, trying to get ahead of the peak hour rush to get home.
I'll take out my iPod and plug myself in to block out the chatter of a group of girls in high school uniforms. And maybe as the dusk paints the orange over with indigo wash, I'll decide I don't want to go home.
I'll get off at my stop, the end of the line, but instead of heading up the hill I'll go d
GF #14: Columbia and Lady Madonna"Don't judge a book by its cover," ... Columbia awoke in a pitch black room, quietly and steathly sitting up and placing his feet on the floor. Around him were other rows of beds, each holding a sleeping boy. It was 5 AM, 2 hours before the rest of them would wake up. The darkness was blinding, but Columbia had become used to it. He knelt down on the icy, white-tiled floor, carefully sticking his hand under his bed to pull out a leather purple bag and his clothes for the day. They were the same as usual, a tattered tan shirt with tan cargo pants. He rose to his feet, and carefully tip-toed out of the dark room, carefully opening the chamber's door, slipping through with ease.He entered a long hall, with several other doors leading to chambers, filled with sleeping children anywhere from the ages of 2 to 18. The hall's walls were painted ivory, the paint near the ceiling chipping away to reveal the wall's original color of red. The hall's floor was made o
SundaysThe weather was rainy again.
It was also a Sunday. I always hated Sundays. There was never anything to do, the news was always horrible and everyone was just so... melancholic. It was almost pitiful. I could never understand why people chose to act this way just because of what day of the week it was, perhaps that's why I started going to Julia's coffee shop every Sunday. Just to people watch, you know? Julia's was a nice place by normal standards. It was on a quieter street, the place was clean for the most part (I never even dared to step into the washrooms and by my guess, neither have the employees) and the food was usually hot. Not
Wolves and Woods She sat quietly beside the trail into the forest upon a slowly rotting stump. Showing not a drip of emotion upon her worn face, she continued to peer into the woods, as if she were waiting for a figure to manifest in the mixture of shadow and vegetation. Nothing appeared, yet she continued to wait, silently thumbing the edge of the blade she held. Wind threw her hair into chaos and bit angrily at her skin, begging her to leave. She remained still. Her cape caressed her body in the cold and vowed to keep her warm, its vibrant red the only source of colour in the dreary evening. Nature seemed to be warning her of what was to come, with
A Day In Paradise The sights that meet me swept me from the ground and left me breathless. I had never felt so threatened and awe inspired by nature as I did now. The cool feeling of water droplets hit my skin as they bounced from the thundering twin falls before me. They poured on either side of me like a wall, leaving a small path of wet rocks and damp vegetation. The sound was deafening yet relaxing. I walked forward, watching my step as I move over slick stones. I carry with me a sense of power as energy bounces from the strong waters beside me. I stop in front of the left waterfall. It's slightly smaller than its brother but just as intimidating. The
The Black Bullets Ch.1 It feels weird being on top of the world one day, in jail the next, then giving up hope and becoming a hobo. I guess I've seen it coming for a long time, but after years of narrow escapes with the police I thought I'd become invincible. I'd been tempted to just suck it up, go back home and get married, but upon arriving realized why I left in the first place. At least they left me with enough money to travel as far as I possibly could from them.
I tried to get a job, any job, but no one would trust a thief. So then I was left with two choices:
Return to a world of crime
Beg on the streets.
Going to jail the first time around was st
Long Way Down pt 1 It was one of the biggest buildings in the world. 180 floors, and we were going to have to get to the top. It all started a month ago when we got an e-mail from a Nurse Joy from this city. Apparently, her Audino went missing and wanted to employ us to go find it. We were only going to get one grand for the gig, and since that really can't feed us, we half-assed the search. After two weeks, we gave up and were about to head back home when we got a bunch more letters from other Nurse Joys from around the city, complaining about the same thing. Suddenly, one grand per Audino didn't seem like such a bad idea. Our informant (of whom we never real
Let it Abomasnow pt 1We were supposed to be at the client's house yesterday, but no, Tommy just had to get the stomach flu and puked all over the RV. So, we spent all of yesterday trying to get the vomit smell out of the RV. This was a personal mission for me, and I really didn't want to be late. So we settled down a hotel and set our alarms for a time a bit too early to get up.
At 5 a.m. the alarm went off. I ain't used to an alarm waking me up. I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Shut up," I mumbled and blindly pressed buttons, anything to make it turn off. Instead, I knocked it off of the stand and it kept buzzing. I sat up and put my glasses on my face. I turne
The AirshipMemory is probably the oddest part of the mind, sometimes, it will recall events with vivid imagery, but only a day later, it might be unable to remember even a single moment of that same event. There is one event that, no matter how much time passes, will always stay deeply entrenched in my mind, when I was arrested as a political prisoner of the French Republic. Let me tell you how the events transpired.
Before you can understand what any of it means, you will have to know a bit of background. It was the 30th year Queen Victoria's reign in the UK, or at least it should have been, if the French hadn't executed her and her entire family when
A Trinity of Power: Ruler of Death, ProloguePrologue
Darkness seemed to be fighting its way into the cramped, closet-like room; the only light source was an archaic oil lamp sitting in one corner of the room, with its orange flame sputtering, almost going out, yet just barely giving the room enough light for the three women in the room to read the document sitting on a round table between their standing figures. From their appearance, one might assume that the three had very little in common, one woman stood tall in an elegant business suit, caressing the archaic pen with familiarity, while another slouched, burying herself in a corner, her coat wrapped around her like armour. The fin