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January 6, 2013
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Share your best writing!

:iconb-nicolet:
b-nicoleT Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Professional Writer
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.
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Devious Comments

:icontheworldisbehindus:
theworldisbehindus Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Take What You NeedTake my hand,
and I'll take yours.
We'll turn off the lights,
and lock all the doors.
Then we'll walk down the stairs,
to lay in the weeds.
Forget what they think,
'cause now we're set free.

We ran to the ocean,
and we ran to the sun.
After the high wore off
and the day was done.
Then we stared out the window
watched the passage of seasons.
Remember how we used each other
for all the right reasons.

So stop my heart,
and lay me down.
Take what you need,
and I'll return to the ground.
Hand in hand
we'll walk through that door.
You'll get what's mine,
and I'll get what's yours.
Like A Loaded GunI've heard that love is like a loaded gun
And someone else has always got their finger on the trigger
You walk a fine line when you start to fall
And just like a hostage under the cover of darkness
You forget your place
You forget the meaning of subtlety
I know that hurting someone
is a strange way to say "I like you"
but it's true
Yes, love is like a loaded gun
If you're not careful, if you let your hand slip . . .
This is something best left to the adults
This is something best left to the thrill-seekers
A little love was too much for me
Yes, love is like a loaded gun
or should I say
it's like a game of Russian Roulette
w
Vampire Like MeWhat do you know about vampires like me?
If you knew how people like me are repelled by the warmth of the sun
would it make you want to withdraw your touch?
Do you know what it's like to live a hundred lifetimes
and still never find what you're looking for?
Are you someone who understands forbidden thoughts
the way they've been leading my existence?
If you knew all that, would you still get close?
Because I don't think you could handle the life I've chose
I don't think you could marry the night the way I've done
Yes, I am a vampire
I am never satisfied
And when I die I'll take a thousand others with me
Would you let me take you w


I am not much of a writer. But I'm fairly satisfied with these poems.
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:icongpbaratheon:
GPBaratheon Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
eh..... [link] i would say would be probably atm my favorite piece.
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:iconamayaells:
AmayaElls Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I am proud of this novel (though the first chapter isn't wonderful).
Casting Runesongs

A Blurb

Angels and demons have been in a war for thousands of years, waged in the skies above a neutral human kingdom. Few remember what started the war, but it continues through racial hatred and continued wartime atrocities committed by both parties. Demons and angels both seek the favour of the lesser human beings in order to gain a small strategic edge, but time and time again wise kings, or wise advisors have turned them down, maintaining an uneasy equality in their kingdoms. Yethzer is a member of the Demonguard, an order of demons equal to great generals when not protecting their king in battle. One day, on a routine training reconnaissance mission he and his young flock are attacked by a group vastly different from any they have encountered before. They are attacked by a flock of demons supported by an angel choir, an impossibility due to the strong inherited hatred in every single member of both races. Yethzer alone escapes and takes his story to the humans, sure th


I am proud of this short story.
Somber WonderlandAlice chased the rabbit across the grass. It was a little brown rabbit like all in her area yet she chased it anyway. It darted into a garden bed  and she crunched in after it. She didn't even notice the root that curled around her foot and didn't see the stone until it was a mere inch from her nose. She threw her hands forward but it was too late to stop her fall. Her head passed through the stone and she found herself tumbling down a wide rabbit hole. It was very dark, what would happen if I ran into a wall Alice thought. Bright lights appeared above her and slowly fell past, she reached out and caught one and found that it was a small torch. She pointed its beam at the walls of the rabbit hole and was relieved to see they were at a safe distance. The walls were loose dirt, with little tufts of grass growing out of them. As she fell they became smoother and smoother. She realised rather suddenly that the walls had become white plaster, just like the walls in my house<


And I am proud of this poem.
Red DustPainted by the red dust
We shoulder the weight
Scoured by the red winds
We carry the future

Connected to our origins
But never to return
We answer to Earth's people
Yet this planet is our own

Can we carry our own future
And cease being used?
Can we gain our independence
Without fighting a whole world?

Painted by the red dust
We shoulder the weight
Scoured by the red winds
We carry the future


I am also quite proud of the challenge I am undertaking to write a short story a day.
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:iconb-nicolet:
b-nicoleT Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2013  Professional Writer
Great work! And thank you for the favorite on my the first chapter of The Mouse. It's a long read, but I'm glad someone liked it. I really appreciate it!
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