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The Smoke ArtistI was never one to believe in the supernatural elements of things. Don’t get me wrong, I was a huge fan of horror movies and books. The Shining, Carrion Comfort, Phantoms, those kinds of books. Old Victorian novels were also a favourite, like Dracula, Frankenstein, and Jekyll and Hyde. Urban legends fascinated me. I loved those stories, the ones that made you question the noises in the night, the ones you remembered with a slight shiver as you experienced a feeling that had been described so vividly it stuck with you.
However, you may notice the past tense in those sentences.
That’s because I experienced my own story, barely a few months ago. And I still see them, just hanging around. I have to keep my lights on all through the night. I can’t go out alone. I had to ask to not have night shifts. Ever. Not since then. I can’t stand shadows. They scare me, more than anything else in the world. If I think I see smoke, I have to get away as fast as I can. Matches, ci
Out of reachSometimes, I want you to understand. No matter what you do, you can't change me. I'm not perfect in your eyes, or anyone else's. Not even my own.
I don't need to be reminded on how much I hate myself. I already know. I've done things I thought I would never do. From a young age, I have been evil incarnate. To you I am a shadow.
I have done bad things. But what you don't realise is that I never meant to hurt anyone. I was trying to help. I should probably be in jail for the things I remember that I've done. Maybe an asylum.
But no one died, that I can remember.
The only person who died was me. And I died striving for what wasn't there.
From what I remember, I was trying to be perfect. Trying to do the impossible. I only enjoyed three things and they were the things keeping me going. Free running, drawing, and writing.
Free running was the thing that killed the old me. I refuse to do what I did before. I will still write and draw and run. But I'm not going through Hell again.
You don't u
Carnevil CircusChapter 1: Promise of A lifetime
Shriek ducked under a branch, staying silent as he ran as fast as he could. Away from that place, that STUPID, EVIL, place. He began breathing heavily, they barley let them exercise so they couldn't run. He was only a mile away, at least the experiments gave him extended strength speed and accuracy.
He slid under a fallen tree, and down a steep hill, landing in a muddy river that covered his dark green top in mud and got his baggy black jeans soaked. His combat boots remained dry inside. He grabbed the lavender perfume and sprayed the trees before discarding the can on the river, after creating a leak.
Shriek was fourteen. He had green hair and dark blue eyes with grey tinged pale skin that made him look sick. His hair was cut short, and was messy, covering his left eye. It was darker behind his fringe, which helped in the camouflage. He took a break for a minute.
There was a faint barking in the background of the silence, and loud approac
Make it stopI wasn't scared at first.
I mean, I knew what happened to women who were accused of being witches in this time, but I had a very high pain tolerance, and could engage my natural healing process at any time. Any scars would go quickly, I had potions for that.
When I was caught- well, not really caught. I'm not a witch, am I? Nah. There isn't a proper name for the species yet, as I REFUSE to be called a fairie or fairy, however it's spelt. I just call myself a Hybrid.
Anyway, when I was caught, there was a bit of panic on my end; I thought I'd been really careful but I suppose not. I was taken to the local church where they put me through the tests. They tried the cross first. I guess I'm lucky I'm not a full demon; crosses only work if they're bigger than I am and closer than three inches away. When the cross didn't work, they tried holy water. Holy water doesn't do anything but strengthen my angel DNA, so I was safe on that. In fact, if anything it helped my argument; it ke
No longer sickI'm not tanned and I'm not fair.
My skin is ripped I have no hair.
I cannot speak I cannot move.
I try to talk no words come through.
My lips are dry can't feel a thing.
I can't see I think I'm slipping.
Light hits my face and it gets to my head.
I'm no longer sick; I am dead.
I don't understand why you hate him,
Why you can't love him.
I don't know your reasons,
Perhaps it's because of your differences.
But I think you're being cruel,
Because you know how it's like to be rejected.
I don't want you to think,
That I'm on his side or anything.
I'm trying to take an equal ground.
But you're making it hard for me,
I already have enough trouble.
They found out about everything,
They know I'm cutting.
They know I'm hurting.
They know I'm dying.
They know I have problems.
They're trying to fix me.
You guys, you can't seem to help.
Michelle, you're acting strangely. You're hiding from me, and I don't like it. I know you're having problems, and I know it's hard for you, but please. Talk to me. I think you're dying Mimi, and I don't know how to deal with it. I can't understand your problems, I know. But every time he tells me about why he thinks you don't want to love him, it makes me feel sad. It's killing me Mimi.
Talk to me.
Billy, I know it hurt
to get out of
of their parents-
I'm here trying
to get out of
For There Is A Girl...There is a girl who does not fit in.
She couldn't be more different
In the society she was raised in;
She thinks the exact opposite.
She finds it odd that two girls
Cannot dance the way a man and
She finds it odd that those being
Accused of horrible acts are being
Accused by people who have done worse.
She finds it odd that there are
Signs and campaigns for allowing
She finds it odd that being a
Woman means you are weak
And it is an insult to be called
In the society she is in,
She is different.
For there is a girl who does not
Why two people of the same
Cannot marry. Why one group of people
By another that is far worse.
There is a girl that cannot
Why words are offensive or
People use them. She cannot
Why, as a woman, she is not
To wear what she wants without being
If she is white, then she is racist.
If she is black, then she is a criminal.
If she is straight, then she is homophobic.
Carpe DiemI fell in love with mornings
but had a love affair with midnight;
It's easier to slip
into the soporific grip
of the nether regions of the night,
to wrestle and grapple and entwine yourself
with the moonlight on your bed,
to succumb to the frivolity that only the screech owls and katydids see,
to delude yourself into believing
that you can stretch time with a rolling pin
Than to rise with the shine
of sunrise through the curtains
and breathe in the sound
of a million things waking
in a cycle a million years old.
There is a ritual to the daylight
that resuscitates the spirit
in ancient instinctual tradition.
There is an unparalleled sense
in the dawn
and in the drowsing cafés and sleep-walking streets,
the sense that the world is calling out in the fog that's still melting into dew
and touching your heart to bid you good day.
But to attempt
to give your body to both
is to stretch yourself
We Have No TimeAll we have
Is a sliver
Everything we will
Do in life
We all die before we know it
Its a fact of life
And I am already dying
A slow painful death
One year at a time
One month at a time
One week at a time
One day at a time
Then we flatline
On a metal sheet
Buried in the dirt
To think we were born yesterday
Only to die tomorrow
My Love Saysi dream a spine alive
held barely together
its strings shiver
in varied tensions
young hopeful highs
controlled steady middles
to the low
once we've said
everything that's ever
going to matter
it's the range and age
of a lovely luck
and your voice
of lovely and
strength in this
god-blessed a life
by these empty
and the reaction
when they hit
the full of us
it shakes us, like every time
we've broken and forgotten
how we came back
from the time before
and my god says
love your love like it's
the only breath
your heart can breathe
because it is
and my love says
you are this halfyou are this
with the rafters
all in rows
along the pavement.
sweating in the sun
are they smiling
I do not know.
I floored a house once
it was hard work.
I installed the fridge
and was zapped
by a wire.
we sang no songs.
just like now,
this night with its
thin and waiting.
moving through the rafters
resting on their side.
the abyss of
the roof that
Silence is the loudest Scream
Silence rips your voice apart,
Your mouth opens to say something, but no sound comes out,
Your tears are falling silently,
You're screaming but you can't hear anything,
They can't hear you either,
Not over the laughter of the shadows surrounding you.
Pain travels up your back,
Across your face,
Down your legs,
Around your neck,
It burns at you.
Your skin is torn off strip by bloody strip,
And your hair ripped off in uneven chunks,
You already knew you were ugly,
But you don't care,
You just want it to stop.
The laughter is loud,
And it echoes through your head,
You feel sick but you can't do a thing.
Finally they leave,
And you are left,
As nothing but muscle and bone,
In a pool of your own blood.
Why are they still laughing?
You only now feel the noose of chains around your neck,
And hear the motor of a car.
It's finally ove
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More