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Fate and DestinyFate and Destiny
The girl called Fate, and the boy called Destiny met together one night among the starry skies.
“Which of us is better?” the white-haired Fate asked.
“Whichever is less painful,” replied the raven-haired Destiny.
And thus began the rivalry.
Fate decided that she would govern the lives of humans and decide what would happen to them from the day they were born to the day they died.
Destiny decided to guide the humans from the wrong paths and help them live to the fullest potential.
Fate was cruel, and many humans died. She watched their pain from her starry throne and laughed, for there was nothing their screaming souls could do.
Destiny was kinder, and the humans flourished under his rule. From his throne he could see their joy at their freedom to choose where they would go.
Centuries later, Fate confronted Destiny.
“How are you so much better than I, you who lets the foolish humans choose for themselves?”
He replied, “My dear F
Life and DeathLife and Death
Life sat in the garden,
Beneath the Tree of Wisdom.
A crunch from behind;
A dead bird;
And Death walked out from the forest.
Life’s eyes lit up;
Her brother came to see her!
She rushed to greet him
“Oh, dear brother, how I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you too, little Life”
But he knelt down and pushed her away.
Life was confused, and pain flashed through her mind
A horrid disease had nestled in her arm!
“Brother, what’s happening to me?!”
Cried little Life hysterically.
“Oh, little one, all good things must end.”
And all Death did was grin
And take Life’s breath away.
Even in Death.
Eyes On Fire,
Three In the Morning,
I Need Some Sleep.
Kids With Guns,
We Are Young.
Kill Your Heroes,
Once Upon A Time.
A Taste For Adventure.
Somebody Told Me,
She’s a Rebel.
…And Then She Bled.
Jack the King of FrostJack the King of Frost,
Was not meant to be King at all.
But his crown-prince brother ran away,
So then Jack had no more time for play.
A year he ruled, for his father was ill,
With grief for the run-away Luce,
Until he died in his sleep,
And Jack had to rule alone.
Another year passed, and the kingdom was in ruins
For jack was a terrible ruler.
He was confused and had no assistance,
So he made terrible decisions.
His brother returned after 2 years gone,
With his new wife by his side.
He expected to be welcomed heartily by the family he had left,
But instead was turned away.
Jack grew angry and his family felt betrayed,
For Luce was supposed to be ruler.
"If you hadn't left, this never would've happened!"
And Jack rushed at Luce with his sword.
A fight ensued, and Luce ended up dead
Because he couldn't kill his baby brother.
His mother and sisters cried, because they couldn't stop them in time,
And so all three went away.
Jack, poor Jack, the King of Frost
Everyone he ever loved is los
In hindsight, I probably should've done things a little differently.
Like, for instance, worked harder for better grades, or actually gotten a job.
Winter Is Coming10/12/12
Winter is coming,
Fall has arrived.
Summer is a memory,
Spring is a dream.
Snow is coming,
Leaves are falling.
Green grass is no more,
Puddles are rare.
Ice is forming,
The trees are bare.
Sunshine is sparse,
Nighttime is long.
Everything is melting,
Plants are budding.
Rain is falling,
Summer is coming
Snails!I was 8 years old and a generally average child. I was with my family in our backyard cooking out. It had just rained and all of the snails were out. Being the little explorer I was, I decided to walk around my yard and examine these little slimy things. Now, I'm not someone who believes in love at first sight, but this was a perfect example of it. I was so fascinated with the snails and my surrounding family members were completely confused as to why. Eventually, my 11 year old brother saw this as a keen chance to be a bully. He grabbed one of the snails I had and the container of salt we had laying out and tried to salt the poor thing. "Donovan no!", I yelled as loud as I could. Just then, my father grabbed the salt out of my brother's hand and began to chew him out, "YOUR LITTLE SISTER REALLY LIKES THESE SNAILS AND YOU SHOULDN'T BE TRYING TO TAKE THEM FROM HER, YOUNG MAN!", he barked. Needless to say, my slimy friend lived to see another day.
After all of this, snails became a big d
creon's pride got the better of medead so very dead. school is bad for my brain it is killing my NEURONS. curse our forefathers who hath bestowed upon us the curse of the SCHOOL SYSTEM. how bitter good intentions become sour milk. unnecessary and bad for the health. o is there no refuge at home. thy father and mother arrested for one’s own actions. can they not see that we learneth not? cram information before the eyes to cover the evil of one’s country. o sad day, o sad days. jhsd why why why but if i go home kids so MANY FORSAKEN KIDS screaming and tattling and crying and whining make them STOP. to be angry with a woman who has homicidal thoughts of her own child, THOU HAS NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH CHILDREN THEN. they are no angels, they are hell-spawn reliving their days of the underworld in cramped schools, having to compete against each other for love, an emotion nonexistent in this world of ours. O SAD DAYS O SAD DAYS. may the sobbing be loud for such sufferable days. o sad days o sad days
My Awesome LP IntroductionHello, all.
I'm Jen – Jencity, though I'll answer to either. My base stats are as follows: mid-twenties, American, Pacific time zone, college graduate.
I graduated earlier this year with bachelor's degrees in English and religious studies; I focused, primarily, on 18th century and pre-Christian literature. I used to fancy myself a poet, but I've since come to know better. In my free time, I pose as a freelance writer and editor. I've been writing and editing for pay for... two years? Maybe three now. None of my own work has been published, though I have edited work that is now in publication.
Comics are a passion of mine. I grew up on old X-Force and Excalibur comics. (Yeah. So hardcore nerd that I bypassed X-men altogether.) I'm currently working on writing a comic script of my own. The biggest challenge I've found in that is funding the artist. Because, I mean, money.
I'm sarcastic and usually pretty straight forward. I hate pussy-footing around. If I have an opinion, I give it
RemembranceI used to pass an old lady on my way to school.
She used to smile at me, and me at her.
Sometimes we said 'hello'.
She used to wear a purple blazer.
Something else was purple. Her legs.
They were covered in purple spots.
Or were they bruises?
I used to wonder about them as a kid.
Did they hurt? Why were they there?
I was too polite to ask.
I still wonder about that old lady.
Is she even still alive?
She doesn't know a little girl she passed every morning is remembering her.
I used to pass a block of flats on my way to school.
There was a girl who lived in one of them.
She reminded me of A Little Princess.
Her hair was short and black, like Sara Crewe.
She used to smile at me, and me at her.
One day we waited together for the library to open.
She said her baby sister loved the book I was holding.
I wanted to ask her what books she loved.
But I was too shy.
I still wonder about that girl.
Does she still like to read?
She doesn't know a little girl she spoke to at the library is rememberi
the birds sing a note, or twoI am awake on this dark London night; so dark. Everyone beyond could be dead, the beginning and end of the world. Moonlight on grass and roofs and brick-walled buildings. I lean my head on the cold glass of the window, smelling tea and cologne and fresh rain.
Still dressed in tights, mascara on my lashes and perfume clouding my hair, I sit on the windowsill and converse with the dark-haired boy in the room below. No packing tonight; left for tomorrow—tomorrow, when the world wakes up. Not now.
In the room less than a hundred meters away my sister paces, curtains drawn, thinking alone, telling no one. In the room next door the Russian model cries tears that mixes with her lipstick, stained red. In the room below the boy pauses in his sentence and doesn't continue.
Bright lights in Hong Kong glimmer in the dark harbor and at home there must be the sound of piano songs as my brother plays. Midnight ticks by. I close my eyes and think of mornings with rain and history lessons, of aft
Amongst the Stars is my Safe HavenAmongst the Stars is my Safe Haven
I remember sitting on the trampoline, the one that isn't there anymore. Sitting there in the dark, feeling alone, but surrounded by people. I'd wish on every shooting star there was. The nights seemed so clear, like a pool of water you could practically see yourself dancing in. The fire the rain offered. I always wished for foolish things. A puppy, to go back to Disneyland. I only realize now, I made one faithful wish, one you could only find amongst the wiser, for my family to be together forever.
It seems so long ago, yet so close to heart. The pain of it breaking only numbed by the box of memories. Yes, one so delicate one shouldn't drop it. It contained the mysteries of life, it contained your regrets and mistakes, but most importantly, it held your heart. The heart is a place you have to earn you way into, you can't simply be there. But once a heart breaks, the pain is unbearable.
I remember now, waking up with a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Ha
An AnecdoteThere once was a girl who grew up in a library. She read thousands of books over the course of her life, and loved every one. Fiction, non-fiction, she loved them all. Every time she stepped into a library or a book store, she instantly felt at home. All those stories, clamoring for attention, aching to find their way into the hands of willing readers and transport those readers for a brief (or extended) period of time, making their day brighter. She helped whenever she could. She was always reading, always lost in a story.
This girl loved school. She loved learning, anything and everything, and she soaked up the knowledge her teachers gave her like a plant soaks up sunrays. At the end of her sixth grade year, she was voted most likely to be a librarian. And she embraced that title, making it her first email address, and labelling all the books she owned as part of her library. She allowed her family to check out books from the library, provided they wrote down the name of the b
Bad-Ass In A Blue Suit Seriously, if I had a good picture of me in my suit, I'd include it in this blurb; as I do not have such a photo, you'll just have to trust me when I break out into song and sing that, "NOTHING SUITS ME LIKE A SUIT!" I am a firm believer that clothes say a decent amount about a person, and this cobalt-blue suit of mine is perhaps the greatest example within my own wardrobe.
Honestly, the physical form of the suit is perfect; the collar is not ridiculous and flaring, there is no strange shoulder padding or imbalance, the pants are simple masculine slacks, and it fits me just right; in black, it would look just like a regular suit. The color, however, stands out like... well, like a suit on a college campus; there's nothing like it in sight. It's that strange new perspective on an old favorite, a classic idea with a modern and refreshing twist. I like to think about my writing in a similar manner; returning to the older style of more be
Sara's Stories: The Metal RoosterSara's Stories | Episode 5: The Metal Rooster
Here's yet another childhood memory that has been clinging to my mind lately, and it's kinda funny...
It was around 2003, when I was about nine or ten years old at the time, and I was shopping at Wal-Mart with my parents. My father was in the grocery area while my mom and I were in the other side of the store. In the home and garden area, I spotted this decorative metal rooster statue. It was basically hollow and made with thin but sturdy metal, and maybe about 18 in. tall. I noticed that the rooster statue had some "feathers" partially protruding off of his neck, and I just happened to pluck at one of the feathers, and... well, before I tell you about what happened, I must explain that I have hypersensitive hearing, and while really loud sounds can greatly frighten me, there are also certain unusual sounds that I sometimes find absolutely hysterical, so... when I plucked at the metal rooster's "feathers," they made the
Ode to Andrew HussieOde to Andrew Hussie
He who has written so much
About four kids
And 24 (36?) of an alien race
And how everyone dies and yet
Are still alive
Through some slim chance.
Detectives and gang-member mobsters
Have met the same fate
Of dying over and over again
But are still alive to the reader’s great joy
Or chagrin, if the re-undead is a foe.
But it is all still the same.
You have achieved what so many strive for:
To be well known by thousands
And then maybe millions.
And I congratulate you,
You have become a god.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More