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The Modern UlyssesA hot wind howled through the street, kicking up bits of discarded newspaper and evaporating the few surviving droplets of water from an early-morning rainstorm. Cars whipped past, unshaven men with gauges in their ears held hands with women wearing ascots and gaudy sweaters, walking down the busy sidewalk. Among the hustle and bustle of an August mid-afternoon, an artist of sorts. Of sorts.
He moved between the college students leaving small bookstores with Styrofoam coffee cups and copies of the latest "classic" novel, around the smoking donair shop employees, and behind the line of bikers stopping their ride for lunch outside a faux-Irish pub. Wraithlike, unnoticed, just an overstuffed backpack, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans well on their way to complete destruction.
This strange figure, who the cigar-puffing clerks sunning themselves on lawn chairs in front of the tobacconist's had glanced over a thousand times before, was a seventeen-year-old boy named Terrence Grant. The authorit
Found Under A Doormat On A Foreclosed Home's PorchIt's time to come clean. The trip was a sham, Chuck; the eyeglass was a red herring. Now it seems obvious that I've gone too far, that I pushed you way beyond the breaking point. I'm sorry, Chuck. When you reach Clemens, tell him his heirloom is where it was always kept, and the money's all been spent. Clemens won't be going anywhere, and neither will you. Hopefully you'll have better luck than I--but after Louisville I don't think they're ever going to stop hunting for us. I know you'll find this letter. You just have to.
Apocalyptic LogThe first person to lay their eyes on the Oort went mad.
In those first days, when humanity finally achieved near-light-speed travel, we didn't see any artistry in the stars, any poetry to our endeavors. We saw endless desolation, we saw gamma radiation, we saw black holes swallow up entire star systems, we saw a lot of random radio noise from dying stars and rogue gas giants. With the Oort, we saw one hundred thousand astronomical units of randomly dispersed clumps of ice, silent and nearly motionless in near-total dark.
When the first colony was set up in orbit of Proxima Centauri, it was placed on a completely uninhabited ball of rock and water, a planet that by all means could have had earth-like life on it but which was inexplicably uninhabited. There were others. Upsilon Andromedae, 359 Wolf, Gliese 445. A thousand years past and a handful of worlds were made into new earths. Humanity grew into a small empire, spanning one hundred light years, inhabiting thirty worlds.
We had no
MaaheWhen the Maaheseum wore off, Onteia knew she was close to death. Her hair had gone white, her eyes were sunken and glassy, her flesh had receded. Those in her pod were the same: decrepit old men and women, none of them older than twenty-five. Outside, the blueshift had pushed every black hole, every brown dwarf, every burst of cosmic radiation from every pulsar in the Galactic Center into visibility. In hyperspace, even someone who never saw the shining beauty brought out by Maaheseum could see what lay beyond the cursory glance that was their lifelong perspective.
The pod was nearing its final destination--the spectacular, unmatched glory of a collapsing star. This was what all Travelers longed to see before their inevitable early death from the drug. Onteia reached into the small container at the center of their pod, where there were enough green-tinted black shards to last a hundred Travelers a decade. She took a piece just over an inch long, and set it on her decaying molars, and b
Lost in Translation"Hello," a standard human greeting, happened to be a way of expressing that all Tornax were born of questionable parentage. Their standard greeting, "Cocksucker," happened to be a way of expressing that the human subject engaged in excessive fellatio with other species. Fortunately, both races were completely understanding of one another during first contact, each well aware that the other had no way of realizing this before the fact.
However, it is a constant source of contention, as humans insist upon greeting Tornax with "hello," and the Tornax refuse to defer to any other salutation than "Cocksucker." Matters were further complicated when the Duchy of Maternalfornicaters (typically spelled Matrn'al Furnicutres) entered into this burgeoning galactic community. No sooner had this bizarre coincidence been pushed to the wayside for proper diplomatic and cultural exchange to begin than a species which spoke almost entirely in words that seemed to be compound English profanity (the noble
Dead Men, Beached on Their HomeThe horizon is black. Nothing to see but a shaft of light the color of arterial blood, emerging from some grotesque wound torn in the earth. Finch smokes his corn cob pipe in the back of the mover, eyes steely and glassed over. He's dying, faster than the rest of us. Soon it will just be Ellie and myself.
Feeling my way through the dark, I jumped off the mover and into a patch of ashen earth, scorched as the rest of the plain. I keep telling myself that I'm going to put a bullet in my head. It's been three months since they started glassing us, and I haven't yet. We wasted our time trying to get to the last patch of living ground; I think the real reason Finch pushed us so hard was so that he could get swallowed up in that red beam.
Pins and needles have been shooting through every inch of my skin for the last week. When I stop to take a leak, I briefly consider popping one of the cellular repair pills we pilfered before deciding against it. If Finch dies, Ellie will be dead by mid-noo
A Drink With DadWhen my eyes “opened,” which is to say my occipital lobe joined the rest of my conscious mind in one of the last stages of the unfreezing process, they did not see my faded reflection in the cryotube window. Instead, I looked at the bold, flashing letters of EMERGENCY wrapping from one steel edge of the door to the other, and after a moment, when I could move my stiff muscles and had enough presence of mind to do so, I smacked the release. The tube door swung up and I staggered out onto the white deck plating.
My dad, Boris Raznatovic, had already left his tube and was at the console just down the hall, next to his office. Swirling all around were alarms and sirens and ululating crimson lights, and for a moment I sat in the corridor, panicked and confused and looking for answers from a single porthole window into space. I could see the same nebula I had seen when my eyes had “closed,” however long ago that might have been.
With violently furrowed brows and a num
The CeremonyAncient couplets left unspoken
Read by strange hooded figures
By those whose minds are long broken.
In black places they wear a strange token
Chanting in backwards prayers to keep the
Ancient couplets left unspoken.
A virgin screams as her soul is stolen
Dagger splitting her chest, held
By those whose minds are long broken.
Cold winds drown her out, she is forsaken
Pleased, the Elder Ones need not recite the
Ancient couplets left unspoken.
The corpse is at once putrid, rotten
And the lust of the Elder Ones is sated
By those whose minds are long broken.
Humanity must never realize it exists in a pen
That some day sanity will die at the hand of those
Ancient couplets left unspoken
By those whose minds are long broken.
GearboxIn the hours before dawn when the city air was no longer humming with the soulless living of seven hundred thousand people, when the only men on the street were peddlers of mind-altering substances borne out of filthy basements and wanderers whose roof was the black void of a light-polluted sky, in that peaceful time, I found the box.
Going eighty down the freeway, my head spinning and my nostrils numb, I hit a patch of water at the bottom of a small dip and spun out. The last flicker of time I remember was the white ghoul keeping pace with me in my rear-view, gasping over my shoulder. Black.
Stars danced on the inside of my eyelids and my burning ears hummed and whirred, sliced in a hundred places by glass as my windshield imploded from the blunt force trauma of a street light that had cut through my bumper, my radiator, my engine block, my dashboard. There was no possible way I could have survived the collision; I was a write-off, just another pretty girl to be folded into a growing
If an angel hears meIf there is an angel near me, I pray to remember me, and I know it will, at see my love for you.
Although I also know... that between me and her, the sky only have dark clouds...
I will pray, I will seek, I swear, I will find it, even if I had to look in a million stars.
In this dark life, absurd without you ... I feel you've become the center and the end of my universe...
If love have any limit, I would cross it for her, and in the vast emptiness of my nights, I feel you, and I will love you ... like I could love you for the first time, when a kiss was a whole lifetime...
Feeling like I lost all my mind... for you.
I understand that your kisses must never be mine, I realize that I will never see my reflection in your eyes. But despite that ... my heart ... instead of love you less, loves you even more.
The two is just one single soul: The scent of her hair, the murmur of her silence...
Her smile like a sweet tale... the sweet honey I tasted on your lips.
I thought you and thought you
...alegria eterna......alegría eterna...
...te pienso, te siento, te espero,
en los remanentes de nuestro universo,
escuchando el harpa de los recuerdos,
de los nuestros, de los pequeños momentos...
...los besos, el cielo, la timidez,
las miradas, las caricias, la estupidez,
los tropiezos, el tiempo, la felicidad,
las lágrimas, las despedidas, la eternidad...
...los años pasan, el caliente no llega,
mi sonrisa se apaga, la luna se aleja,
mi cabello se opaca, mi vida se acorta,
pero mi sentimiento permanece, persevera...
¿Cuándo será el día, la mañana, que te vea,
que tu sonrisa no sea de mi reminiscencia,
que la brillantez del sol refleje tu dulce esencia,
cuando podrá mi corazón ver la alegría eterna?
-Solem Nocte Infinitus-
These Bones (I'm in Suicide With You)we're lost without words
in the ache of the brightness.
these bones are old
we are lost--
i'm lost without you.
(but i haven't a clue what you do with me.)
these bones aren't gold,
so what's worthwhile
about them to you?
we are carbon
blood, blood, flowing blood
that clots in cuts
and runs rivers in veins
and stains, how it stains,
carpet and floor and hands
i'd be more
than all the good
i do for you.
i'd be lost without you
but you don't need me
and i'm in suicide with you
for too many reasons
and too many times.
but my only question--
is my love
even if i lie?
Forever and Always.You were happy now.
The road wasn't always easy, but you managed to continue on down it. It always seemed bleak and dreary until he showed up.
At first you thought it was some cruel joke like usual…
He was different in every way possible. There were always smiles and warmth radiating from him.
He never judged you because of your appearance. He was better than that.
Pointing out all the good in you that everyone else seemed to pass by as they only criticized you on what they thought was bad.
He did all of this and so much more. Helping you find your way when all seemed dark to you. Showing you that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and being there tightening the hold on your hand as you both traveled down the dark road.
It was beautiful and so was your life now.
You thought you'd never be here, right now with him.
That's what he told you that day when he asked you.
TnM-Vampiros VS Lobos Cap.4Cap.4 Amigos?
En el parque
Cuando llegaron Xadezz y Frejazz se miraron y se enamoraron
Thomas: hola Marie
Marie: hola Tommy son ellos tus amigos
Thomas: si ellos son Dezz *saluda con la mano* y Fred *saluda con la mano*
Marie: hola es un gusto conocelos ellos son Jazz *saluda con la mano* y Xavier *saluda con la mano*
Xavier: es un gusto conocerlos yo soy Xavier Flynn y mi amiga Jasmine Raí pero le gusta que la llame Jazz
Jazz: un gusto y lo sentimos por lo modales es por genes vampiros
Dezz: no se preocupe mi nombre es Dezz y mi amigo Fred es un gusto conocerlos
Thomas: bueno como ya no conocemos quiere jugar a verdad o reto
Todos (menos Thomas) : esta bien!!!
Después de horas de juega verdad o reto
Thomas: emm Fred verdad o reto
Thomas: es verdad que duerme con tu pijama de peluches
Fred: si ¬¬
Todos (excepto Fred): jajajaja
Xavier recibió un mensaje
Marie: tu mamá
Jazz: y que pasa
Xavier dice que esta organizado su boda
Fantasia y RealidadFantasía y Realidad
Junto al sol y bajo las estrellas,
yo te grabo en mi corazón,
pensando en tus labios y en tu voz,
que en todo momento me llenan de amor.
Tú, amor mío, tú, la esencia de mi fuerza,
la meta de mis sueños, tú, niña y mujer eterna,
quimera de penas, de recuerdos y tristezas,
tú, risa de mi alma, esmeralda de rosas cubierta.
Tatuadas están tus caricias en mi piel,
y en mi interior la flama de tu pasión,
unidas, nuestras almas en paz cabalgan,
por océanos de cristales y verdes estrellas.
Fuego, ardor y sangre con furia de amor,
así se encuentran nuestros corazones de fervor,
siempre con ropajes de eternas llamas y calor,
en un universo de fantasía y realidad en colisión.
Te amo con la eterna flama amada mía,
te extraño y te quiero con la luz del sol, Yadira.
Sabes que soy el árbol que crece por ti,
la luna que brilla noche a noche en tu inte
They Told HimThey told him not to love the Moon
Told him that she was a fickle thing
Told him that she would change every month
Until she disappeared from thee
They told him not to curse the Sun
Told him that he was the source of life
Told him that he would stay constant each year
Until the end of days was nigh
They told him to forget the Moon
Told him that she was not his
Told him that she belonged to another
That her very source of light came from him
They told him to thank the Sun
Told him that he kept the Moon safe
Told him that he treated her fairly
And that he would not make her a disgrace
They told him these things
Spoke adamantly about them
They prayed he'd see otherwise
But instead he rejected them
So to this day he stands
Staring at the fickle Moon
Cursing the bright lit Sun
And wondering why he, a Star
Could not love the Moon too
The Beautiful YouThe Beautiful You.
You’re so beautiful,
My words cannot describe
But if to name you something
Twould be thy Moon
You’re the Moon in the dark sky,
Worshiped like a God-
Yet you paint female faces
With your pale light, kisses
Filling their devious smiles
With passionate lust
But they break you
Lure you into their trance with looks.
Yet you call me beautiful and ignore the others..
I’d call myself the Sun
But a body that’s scorched by fake passion
And when you look towards my sky
Your eyes I'll burn!
With talents you’re a prince
With looks you are a charmer
I'm only rich with the diamonds I cry.
By Hazard Kitty
it was only a dreamI don't fall in love with people, I fall in love with ideas;
I fall in love with pretty words and
arms around waists,
tears wiped away by thumbs
and kisses on noses and cheeks,
late night joy rides and crude jokes
whispers under sheets and heated yelling
when the day week month isn't going right;
lace and cotton side by side and afternoons grilling
steaks and cold drinks of sweet lemonade,
I love how we can take breaks just because we need to
and then see each other and everything is right and
talking about the moon and the stars and what it means
to be a live and are we soul mates? meeting for the first time
and date nights at taco stands and playing video games in our underwear;
I don't see a problem with any of this, but I don't see any faces either-
I am too full of dreams and not enough courage
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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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