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Odd Idd: Book 2: Silas' thoughts on JaimeSilas looked over at the girl tuning her guitar as if her kid wasn't missing and her best friend wasn't who she thought. He walked over to her and put a hand on hers, meaning only to comfort her. She gave him a dark look, he removed his hand and she went back to tuning the guitar.
"Hey, Jaime," he asked, "I've been meaning to ask, why doesn't Idd turn human?"
"What do you mean?" Jaime asked him, her attention now off the guitar.
"No-mores, being once human, often have the ability to appear human when they want," Silas said, "Took me a few encounters with them to learn that. that's actually where most of your legends of shape-shifters come fr-"
Jaime gripped his tie suddenly and pulled him close. He was expecting her to hit him across the face or break his glasses, instead she kissed him.
His eyes, or really the lack there of, went wide. He sat there for a moment and the she let go of him, even going as far as pushing him back gently. He still stood there, slack jawe
Odd Idd: Book 2: Em and IddThe beast looked as to be nothing more than a lower grade Devourer. Why this beast, of all beasts, was giving Reynald any trouble Em would never know. Hell, he acted as a child, to the point of even watching cartoons.
Closing her eyes she gave a quick incantation to summon him. She'd been working closly with him after the death of her only friend. She'd had him working double agent beside Silas too, and as a bonus the fool almost trusted the creature.
Em, however, knew better than to trust it. She may have learned to cast and conjur it, but it was still of hell. Being from hell ment that it had more power than she would even give it credit for. That was probably because of how lazy the thing was though.
A puff of black smoke and the stentch sulfur summoned the beast. The small imp barely had enough wieght to make a dent in her leather jacket. She could hear his tounge clicking impaiently as he waited to be addressed.
"Hello, Gash," she said, not looking at the small demon.
Idd: Book 2: Angels aren't so niceThe two were akward as hell and gave Silas the feeling that they didn't like him much. Barb kept throwing him a look when she thought he wasn't paying attention that only a Demon could mirror. The other, however, had his own reason for hating Silas.
"So what's with the hair?" Ed asked.
"Ed!" Barb shouted, "Be nice! We have company, even if his hair is a little goofy."
"What is with everyone making fun of my hair?" Silas finally snapped, "And you Edward, you should know exactly who I am."
The girls stopped. Jaime had a strange look on her face that said clearly she had no idea what he was talking about. It took Silas only a moment before he realized his mistake.
But the cat was out of the bag.
"What's he mean you should know, Ed?" Barb asked. If her silky-smooth voice and thick accent wasn't enough to melt his heart Jaime's hard look sure did.
Ed was sweating, "I've no idea what he's talking about."
Silas gave a little chuckle, "You're right Ed, it's my mistake. Or perhaps it is fate I
Emerald and Catch Up"You look like hell," the young woman sitting in his chair said. She didn't even bother looking up from the paper in her hands.
Emerald Down was five foot eleven with dark skin and raven black hair. She had picked this spot, as she always did while she was around Reynald, to annoy. The old man hated people in his chair.
She could feel him glaring down at her from the back of his chair, "Get out."
"What's the matter boss," She laughed, "Don't like me here? To ashamed of your former apprentice." She still got out of the chair but didn't leave the room. Instead she stood just out of the reach of his cane and waited for him to sit comfortably.
"What are you doing here Em?" he asked flatly, taking a seat in the large leather chair.
"Can't a girl visit her old teacher?" She asked feigning a hurt face.
He frowned at her. The last time she had seen him, she had tried to kill him. Even though she forgave him now she really couldn't blame him for what he did. Still, he did kidnap her and when sh
ConversationsShe had stabbed him, killed him, she knew she had. And yet here he was straightening his glasses and tie. There was something strange about him. Something that terrified her.She backed away, there was something about him that unsettled her and it was more than just fear. It was excitment, excitement of the unknown, the unthinkable, and the all powerfull. The thrill of thinking that somehow, someway there was more to the world than she had come to believe.
She had gone back to putting limits on the world and he tore them down for her.
Then she gagged at the thought, Oh god, how sappy was that?
"You ok?" he asked, moving towards her like he actually cared.
"No," she held a hand up to him, "No, no. Hell no. You keep your goffy looking hair away from me."
"Goofy?" He said as if the thought caught him off gaurd and looked up at his hair. Most of it was slicked back, and sure his bangs shot outward ony to come back down infront of his face, but goofy? "Who the hell are you calling goofy bald
Idd and DavidIdd awoke to the sound of a woman screaming. He jumped up, getting his feet under him as fast as he could.
"Mom?" he cried in panic, looking about for Jaime.
It took only a moment for his memories to come back. Jaime was not there, he was alone. His stomache sank lower than it ever had.
Another scream echoed down the sewer walls again, this time more frantic. He moved without thinking, closer to the wall and the hole in the wall where the sound was coming from.
"Leave him alone!" a woman cried somwhere above him.
"Shut up," a man replied sluring his words together, "He's my son and I'll treat him how I want to treat him."
Idd heard the sound of a rough smack and a child's cry of pain. The sinking feeling Idd had had moments ago was replaced suddenly by something else. A fire that welled up in his chest like white hot magma. He'd only felt this fire once before.
He looked out the hole where the ceiling met the wall. It was not very big, but sizable enough he could see three sets of shoe
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More