I haven't seen many posts here dedicated to literature deviations, so I guess I'll make one. Here's a place to share the writing deviations that you're most proud of, be they poetry, chapters of novels, fan fics, or any other written work you can think of.

I'll start this party off by posting a few of my favorite writing pieces:

The Mouse- Chapter OneChapter One, Caroline Thomas   The war came softly. To us, the cushioned citizens of what was once the United States, the ordeal was a tiresome combat of ideologies, a debate slightly intensified by the rare bloodshed. Most people only cared when a parade rolled by in the name of patriotism. Occasionally the local news stations would fill their empty airtime with a brief mention of scattered casualties in obscure countries while politicians would rile up voters with talk of terror and peace. Most often, however, no one remembered that we were at war. After all, life was calling. There were responsibilities, desires, and struggles which took priority, and some rightly so. Families were blossoming and careers were developing. The country was emerging from its worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, and all anyone wanted to do was enjoy the moment.     I paid some attention though most of what struck me felt surreal like an out of sequence dr

Our BoyOur boy wanted to fight, For freedom. Our boy heard a story once, About a soldier who came home, And didn't remember the fight. Then one morning the soldier woke, Shot twelve kids and, himself. Our boy is fighting, For freedom. And he's just fine. He has a boy face, Boy blue eyes, Boy dark hair in tufts. A boy. No one hurts a boy. But himself. Our boy hears the Ch--ch--chopper blades every day, Ch--ch--chopper blades, ch--children rot. Hot blood. There are buzz--zz--zzing flies, In his mind. And he drinks at night. They never said how clear desert mornings are, In the capital of nowhere where his, Where his, where his, where his thoughts echo. And our boy's day is like every other. Echoing thoughts, Rotting blood, Hangover. Tasteless something, Slides down a choked throat. And our boy drifts Through marching In line To the beat Of the d--d--drum. And he drifts Through the day He is blind To the sun. Our boy gets to patrol. Four horsemen in a humvee, Five is he counts himself, Tro

Mr. Dragon and the Particle AcceleratorMr. Dragon reigns supreme in Silence. He donates crocodile smiles in exchange for Empty minds. He says it's best to live among ashes Instead of risking your neck chasing insatiable Mornings. He gives a speech about humility. And we trade in our eyes for buttons. It all makes sense if you don't judge And instead gush as college-ruled wings surf the applause. A disturbance in the frequency. Nay, worse: Words. A little voice threads through the cheers and asks Mr. Dragon to prove his prowess In a duel. "Step forward!" cries the beast, Masking his delight. And forward steps a mouse. A mouse. Lab coat for a cape, Paws twirling goggles fogged, And whiskers twitching 'neath a Benevolent stare. Mr. Dragon laughs and we vomit echoes. But the mouse curls his tail And waits. Four angels bring forth his weapon. And suddenly our buttons see That this is very real indeed. Silence. Teeth go clack. And jaws go snap. And tail goes crack. As Mr. Dragon spouts paper flames. He thrashes, He crashes,

Now it's your turn! Post away! I'll try to favorite and comment on as many as possible.