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A Chance at Love: Chapter 1 Chapter 1
"Naruto you should be more careful." Tsunade, the school nurse, scolded. I sit in front of her, with a black eye and bruises all over. They were big, black, and painful. Tsunade frowned at me, checking to make sure that my ribs aren’t broken. I try to hide the winces from her every time she touches a tender spot. Tsunade knows about how my uncle, and legal guardian, beats me. I don’t want her to tell anyone. I deserve it, and I really-really don’t want to have to move in my senior year of high school. I’m going away to college next year. She just doesn’t like that I come into her office almost daily. She speaks sternly, but not harsh. I know how frustrated she gets about this. "Really Naruto, what happened this time?"
I look down as recall what happened the night before. I stare at the floor unseeing as the memory floods back.
I was done with my homework, although I really just bullshat most of the answers, and was currently
A Weird Reality 13I wake to a steady beeping and soft whispers. My ears twitch at the annoying sounds. When I open my eyes I'm practically blinded by light and hiss. This causes the whispering voices to turn to shouts. All voices I barely recognize.
"He's awake!" A female voice cried out.
"I saw him move!" A male voice states, sounding further away than the female one.
"I saw it too! Roxas! Roxas are you okay?" A male voice spoke, and I feel a hand on my shoulder, shaking. It made my head spin too much and I whimper.
"You three need to stop shouting and Hayner, stop shaking him. He's hurt pretty bad and that's not helping." A fourth voice seaks above the rest, one I don’t recognize. Hayner, the name she said, sounds familiar. Why though? I open my eyes and try not to stare into the white light. I idly wonder if I was dead. I have to be. I feel too comfortable. I have to be dead.? And why is the world beeping? As my vision seeps back slowly I notice the overly white walls, and the machines around m
My World Starts With You Chapter 1
Roxas wakes up slowly, his head pounding, and his eyes stinging from the light. He groggily sits up from lying on the cold ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks as he looks around with squinted eyes. He’s in the middle of a room, with no roof. He doesn’t seem to be in a house, more like a little closed off alleyway outside. The ground is yellow and the walls are made of stone. The wall that leads out is made of a chain-link fence, but it’s covered partially by a dark cloth, to make it a bit more private. He glances around again and notices a small sofa along the wall to the left of the chain-link fence, and a cooler on the one opposite the fence. It looks like someone has made their home here. Roxas stands up on shaky feet as he looks down at his hands and gasps. There is a weird red counter on his hand. It appears to be counting down. Roxas’ heart thumps out of beat at the sight of it. It’s unnatural, and not supposed to be there.
Into the DarknessSpiraling, Falling, Fading
Darkness envelops the light of the world
Crying, Fearing, Ignoring
I scramble dumbly in the defining nothing
Grabbing, Pulling, Squeezing
A hand grabs mine and pulls me in a set direction
Following, Worrying, Wondering
Where is this person taking me
Wondering, Spying, Hoping
A small prick of light pops up in the distance
Hoping, Hoping, Hoping
Passing the light, to glance at a red eyes demon leading the way
Fearing, Crying, Struggling
the demon wont let go
Looking, Gulping, Shaking
The demon cups my cheek
Thinking, Calming, Swooning
The darkness takes me
Axel's Madness Chapter 1
I lay in the very clean office ; on the mostly comfortable, stereotypical sofa of my psychiatrist. He sits in his large, comfortable office chair, just watching and waiting for me to talk. I have nothing to say though. I dont know why I let Demyx talk me into going to this stupid therapy session. I don't think it will do anything more than last time. and that time I had gone in for some mild depression I had gotten for being so stressed from school work. My old therapist wasn't very good, just wanted to give me meds, and have me pay, then leave. But Vexen, my therapist as of last week, is cold, thin, and very blond. I don't like him. He looks at me like I'm some experiment to toy with. He wants to put me back on the Anti-psychotic MEDs, but I'm not crazy. I just happen to have more than one soul. Two to be exact. Lea and Reno, and both are very different from me, and each other. Lea is really happy-go-lucky and naiive. Reno is a rugged, I'll-shoot-you-in-your-face-
The Heart's Teacher: Chapter 5Chapter 5
Bobby walks me to his car and helps me get in. I need to figure out how to pay for a funeral or, something. I need to figure out how to tell her school. Where had mom been when Kate had… When Katie was… “Alyssa, I’m going to make you eat something, because I know you won't otherwise. What will you tolerate me getting you?” Bobby knocks me out of my thoughts and I snap my head toward him.
“What? O-Okay.” I mumble and look out the window. He huffs and I look over at him, frowning at him. He stares at me, looking into my eyes. He seems worried again so I try to smile, but I can feel it didn’t do anything. He shakes his head at me and sighs.
“What do you want to eat Alyssa?” His voice is slow, like he’s spelling out the question for me. I guess I didn’t answer his question. I thought for a moment and tried to decipher the random emotions that my stomach head and heart were telling me. I couldn’
The Heart's Teacher Chapter 4Chapter 4
Her skin is pale, ghostly white, and she is covered in deep gashes, and bruises. Her body is twisted so bad that some of her bone is sticking out. Her body is almost twisted so that she’s laying on her back and side at the same time. Her hair is covered in blood and chunks of I don’t know what. Her face was the worst. Half of her cheek was gone and her nose was shifted to the right, broken. There is a tare in her skin where her nose is bent. There is a large gash in her head, so deep I can see broken bits of her skull. It terrifies me how she looked so young, and so much like Katie. My stomach twists in fear and the threat of throwing up. I can’t stand to look at her, yet, she looks so much like my baby sister.
Taking a step closer, I look harder at her face. I imagine that her nose was straight, and her cheek was there, and the cuts and bruises were gone. This girl would look exactly like Kate. My eyes travel to her ears and I see little
The heart's Teacher Ch 3Chapter 3
Bobby’s car stops and he gets out. A moment later he pulls me out of the car. “Alyssa? Are you okay?” He asks, looking at me. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to look him in the eye for fear of getting upset. I don’t want to lose my head. Bobby drags me away from the car and into the hospital. I still refuse to look up. I barely notice the people talking around me, the hustling nurses and doctors. I don’t notice the people staring at me because I was too busy to staring at the floor. “This is Alyssa Moore, we were told her sister has been omitted here?” Bobby’s voice sounds weird, and far away again. I don’t hear the next part of the sentence because that’s when I look up and see the answer in the nurse’s eyes.
“I’m sorry to inform you that your sister has died in a car crash coming home from school.” She speaks calmly. Yet my heart speeds up and I can’t feel my
The Heart's Teacher Ch. 2Chapter 2
I’m trying to get some homework done when I hear a loud knock at the door. I stop and sigh, looking up from my work. I stand and fix my old black T-shirt and sweat pants before walking to the door. My mother yells at me to “open the damn door”, even though she’s closer, and not doing anything but drinking on the sofa. That woman can’t be helpful even if her life depends on it. So I try to bite back my growl as I got to the door.
I swing the door open and rather rudely say “Can I help you?” My eyes fall upon a tall blond girl. My eyes gravitate toward her pink glittery shirt, with the words “Suck it” written over her chest. She has a cute face that I was expecting to see caked in tons of makeup like the other girls in school. I was, disturbingly, pleasantly surprised. Her eyes are lined with a thin layer of black liner that makes her eyes shine and stand out in a stunning, breathtaking kind of way. They are full of s
cosmic lattesmall town diner jukebox
casts 90's pop songs on a loop
across creaking hardwood
and paisley-print cushions;
there's a mustard stain
on the waitress's checkerboard apron,
a run in her hose
and fingernail polish flaking like dandruff
into the burly corner booth truck driver's
scrambled egg whites and hash, hold the salt.
if this were wednesday, the perky brunette
would be disheveled, sobbing
into her on-again off-again's embroidered handkerchief
while your food waits, forgotten, in the window...
but it's thursday and they've made up
and his breath is only slightly tainted by his addictions.
instead, she flits a smirk at you
over the pages of the novel
you hope you're hiding well behind
and fills your cup to sloshing
free of charge.
when you add creamer,
it looks like the universe
opening to you.
The DoubterThe Doubter
One Day Someone Will Come To Doubt You.
He Will Insist!
You Gonna Hate Him For This,
If You Don't Love Him.
He Already Loves You,
He Just Doesn't Know It Yet.
He Will Know, When He Meets You.
For You I Don't Know More,
You Gonna Hate Him,
If You Don't Love Him.
lone wolf is wholesome
as his body is pressed,
pierced, and perforated.
rib cage curls like fingers
as crimson nail polish
paint the tips.
nailed to the wall like game,
sanguine saliva drips
from its snarling lips.
eyes shut tight
as its frame is contorted
like abstract art,
pen his heart in ink
or permanent marker.
knees skinned like a child
his body idle as the soul vibrates
while his inners regurgitate,
morbidity slivers down his legs
white fur stains read by death
as it plays necromancer.
the pack may not walk with you
but the moon hums with the owl orchestra.
your grey specks toying with ivory fur
kissed by red cartilage edges.
fade away as your puzzle
finally becomes wholesome
you feed raw meat to lions,
i feed raw me to liars-
the crowds line-in like
they’re ready to witness
me eat crow feet like i’m lyin’,
but these eyes are tired
of watching the vultures
masquerade as innocent crows
when the flock is called a murder.
and these crimes are unaccounted for
because we don’t realize what they’re killing
are the lion-hearted and eating the carcass,
leaving souls to float in the desert
while frames play bowls to a heartless dessert.
deserted bones tumbling like weeds
in the dead glass,
and lightning doesn’t strike
in the same place twice,
so don’t expect quartz here.
the law of living has no courts here
and karma is no judge
because there are no sentences
being placed on the objects
that subject you to the adjective of their
their words unnecessary,
excessive when the circle has begun.
wing disks spinning, dizzying,
dazzling, dying down
through dirt tolls
because we all have to pay
Writer's AuraWhat would you say if I told you that paper had an aura?
The interesting thing about it is that I’m telling half the truth.
Paper can only have an aura when it’s in someone’s hands
And being recited by the very person that wrote it.
The aura of the paper comes from the person, strengthening the sheet’s purpose.
Strengthening the person.
But how, you might ask?
How can a person give a flimsy object like paper an aura?
I have done so several times, so I shall tell you.
The people-those like me-that can do this are called Writers.
Every word-every letter-from a Writer’s hand that falls onto the paper…
It has its own life.
Losing one letter can make an entire story unravel.
Make a poem’s meaning drop.
Make a sheet of paper…meaningless.
And by extension, for that moment, the Writer’s life means nothing.
A small mistake, however, isn’t as large a mockery to us as a blank, white sheet of paper.
Both it and the Writer cry out, begging
A StoryLovely features rest
In a crystalized tomb
Adorned in roaming ivy
Locked in silver moonlight
Approaches handsome figure
With weary leather boots
Having rode his way there
Searching for treasures to loot
Coming to the crossroads
The two strangers meet
One forever locked in
Curse's dreamless sleep
Figure draws near
Pearlescent glass gleams
Stretching out his hand
He sees the beauty skin-deep
Instead of acting as a story
A fairytale kept in time
The figure walks away
Deciding corpses should be kept
Out of the sunlight
AnswersI know I am the one that is trying to find answers to all these questions But I am scared
I do not know what the answer is going to be
Am I going to be sad, hurt, pissed, scared
I do not know
At this moment I just know that I am tired of wondering and want answers to my life
obsessionand i know i shouldn't
but when the smoke hits my lungs
and the goosebumps
drape over my skin
because the taste
of this blood
and the touch
of these fingers
feel just as soft.
Over the RainbowWhip, Bam, Zip, Zum
Over the hill we go.
To get over the rainbow
Never stop running, jumping
It gets you that much closer
Taking you that much farther
To the top
Of the rainbow
Fast like lightning
Our feet thump,thump,thump
Loudly on the earth
Starting our mission
To get over the rainbow
Light as a feather
We jump to the sky
Our bodies weightless
As we travel through the air
To get over the rainbow
Almost there, we are, we are
Almost made it, made it
Echos our voices below
Almost able to touch it now
The beautiful colors of the rainbow
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green Blue, Purple
So bright and so vivid
That's all it took
For us to want to jump
Over the beautiful rainbow
Now we are falling, down, down to the earth
Nothing slowing us
The loud deafening "shhhhhhh!" in our ears
We grow closer to the ground
We touch the ground, unharmed.
We gaze at the beautiful phenomenon
The magic is clear
You just have to jump over the rainbow.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More