deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy ArtBuy T-Shirts & Gear Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
Truly Intelligent DesignI often wonder what God did on the eighth day. I mean, Jesus Christ, the guy (or gal) builds an entire universe in six days and only takes Sunday off? Give them a managerial position. What we've got is someone who, not just imagined something into existence, but created complex laws of mechanics and chemistry in order to see that creation make sense.

The only sensible conclusion we can draw from this is that God's an engineer. I think that s/he's gone all Kurt Vonnegut on us, and self-inserted themselves into their own story on occasion. Somewhere down the line, God got pissed at how slow we were progressing and decided to jump in to show us
Of Fabric - WovenThe darting robin crashes to a nearby shrub, then somewhat awkwardly retreats to a spot of nearby turf; looking somewhat flummoxed, its beak empty.  I'm watering the southeast corner of our modest floral garden, shallow of soil above the clay and riddled with the roots of a thirsty tree, it dries quickly leaving the flora to wilt in the afternoon sun. The nozzle is set to offer a gentle shower to the emerging daylilies and already blooming hostas; the robin, still sitting on the new mown grass, cocks it head and eyes my activity – perhaps a dozen feet away.  

Curious…  On a whim, I gently sweep the flow in its direction; reaching o
All the Beautiful PeopleWhat of the man, who stands before you with nothing: having tragically lost his wife on the backend of life. Now sits in front of his television set harboring thoughts of his children, before they grew up and moved on. Is this man's suffering any greater than the one with empty hands, who has never known such things?

It's a good question, but it seems to me the latter of the two -couldn't possibly know what he's missing.

What of the single mother, down on her luck for a lifetime: now stands before the podium her daughter clad in the cloths of achievement -does her new found pride and glory outweigh the hardships she's faced? I doubt it, but
A Love Story in Four Actsi.
     I loved a blacksmith once, back when the sand still clogged up my soul. It was only far after that I began to love the desert too.
ii.
     Underneath the casual noise--glass on wood, heat-smothered conversation, worn cards slapped down in careful triumph--there was this low, thrumming quiet that wouldn't be broken. He spoke in sepia undertones. "We're getting out."
iii.
     Hot iron smells like hot blood, like blood that's been poured out under the white Arizona sun. It's something you don't forget easy, like the taste of whiskey or the plasma patterns left on your eyelids after watching fire all night. It sticks.
v.
      My childhood was fed on medical books, and I've got this pain right behind my eyes and I wonder if this is what it feels like being lobotomized. Of course the brain has no nerve endings, but the hurt has to manifest itself somewhere.
FaithOne late summer, I took a trip to where native grasses used to grow as high as the flanks of my paternal grandfather's bay, the one with the dark line of its equine heritage down the spine.  He used him as a pleasure horse to ride when he had spare time, but he hardly ever did, especially once his brood started to multiply.  That's when grandfather hooked the bay to a plow, turning the soil so he could plant crops to help feed them all.

Grandfather had two broods, actually.  The first were five children, and his wife, who all perished in the influenza pandemic of 1918. The second were five more children, and his final wife, who lived long li
SuperheroThe costume, admittedly, was a bit of a problem--at least, it was at first. Decision, decisions.

I wasn't going to doll up like some manly whore of justice. It really wasn't my style. I don't think I even have a style. I mean, I wear rather fancy clothes. I like the feel of suits and my father's tailors were my tailors. It was inherent.

But I didn't want to ruin nice clothes and I didn't want to run the stupid superhero gamut--we all know Superman wears his underwear on the outside.

I was not doing that.

So, instead of donning the traditional tights which would soak up my blood, sweat, and tears, I put on some padded gear for my knees and
l'homme qui a vuHis breath escapes in empty gasps, and the thin air strips the fire from his lungs. His chest burns and his thighs ache, but he never stops climbing.

Her song spins through the cool night air. Look how her dress shines in the light, they tell him. Look how her face glows, they tell him. Look how she curves perfectly beneath the red satin, they tell him. Blind, he can do none of these things. He can only listen, but that is enough.

The stones beneath his feet are cool and rough. How long has it been since he wore shoes? How long has he been walking?

She straightens his collar, humming to herself. He knows the song, though he remembers few
The Power of RejectionA chasm opens between the dream of success and the fear of rejection. It can be impassible, the Grand Canyon of risk deterrents. And so many choose to never cross it, deciding it is much better to stay on the dream side than to hazard having hopes dashed against the cavern floor below.

The fear paralyzes. It rockets hearts into throats, becomes a mountain, elicits a high-pitched shriek of terror at the very thought of trying to take on the possibility of rejection. It keeps drawings secreted away in sketchbooks or songs buried five folders deep on a desktop – creations labored over and loved but never given the chance to be loved by oth
GlassJordan knew something was wrong the moment he turned the key.

"Lily?" he called out as he slipped into the dark house.

It was only around 6pm, but it was the middle of January, so the sun must have been down for at least an hour. She would have turned on the lights by now.

Maybe she's out, Jordan tried to convince himself to no avail. Lily had scarcely left the house in weeks.

He was still barely a step away from the door. Going any further meant making this real.

Jordan decided he'd have to make it real sooner or later and kicked off his shoes, but didn't bother to strip himself of his winter coat. The chill in the air was far too heavy
The ConnoisseurEvening in the thought quarry is sublime. The newly collected memories are finally digitized.  After the day’s work, I relax and sort them, evaluating their body and character.

I load a new one titled “Elizabeth," dated for last week. I open the sensory log and dive.

I see green hills and the occasional flower. Clear skies. The sight has terrific clarity.

I pluck a nearby dandelion. The aroma is sweet and earthy. I take a greedy sniff and feel the sharp prick of a stinger. I tear away the insect. The pain finely accents the fragrance.

I detect powerful enthusiasm for the loneliness of these hills, for the absence of civilizati
CrawlspaceExploring tiny, dark spaces is an unpleasant, and often inadvisable, thing for a young boy to be
doing. The small door in the corner of your grandmother's spare room, for example, is not only offlimits
but the gaping mouth beyond it is also probably full of tiny scuttling spiders which will drop
onto your head if you move.
None of this is going to prevent your older brother shoving you in there, though, no matter how
you curl your legs and try to kick him in the knees. He is a giant in comparison to you, almost adultsized
already. You're nine but look seven. And he has hold of both of your wrists in one hand. The other
hand is crushed
ShellsEach wave hissed across the shingle. Each wave flattened itself out in a dying puff of foam and then fell back into the greatness of the sea, dragging the smoothed-out stones with it. How many years must it take for those fist-sized pebbles to become sand? How long?
Frances raised her eyes to the grey sky and wondered about God above those clouds. There were men who said that God’s hand had no place in all of this. There were men that said we had come from apes, step by step, like a boulder being polished by the sea until it was a smooth and perfect fist-sized stone. Those men said that six thousand years was impossible. Six million years was impossible. They said that time was so deep it was like looking into the arc of the heavens and never knowing how far away the deepest darkness was.
Those clocks that ticked on board ship, that spelt out longitude and latitude to anxious sailors, that measured the greatness of the globe – there were not enough ticks in all of the clo
The Virgin House"Let's see…eye of newt, boiled bat wings, mandrake root, and-  My, my, tears of a virgin?  Where am I going to get a virgin?"

"Perhaps you can place an ad in the paper?"

"Hush, Madrina, I'm trying to think."  Aggie rubbed the mole on her chin.  Her cauldron boiled happily in front of her.  "Let simmer for three full moons," she read from her spellbook.  "I have time."  Aggie turned on her heel, and her robes spun with her.  "Madrina!"

"Yes mam!"

"Go into town and find a man named Richard Sphin.  He deals in uncanny business.  Tell him I wish to order a virgin."

"Can we get a cat scratcher for my nails?"

"Not enough money."

The bum
Is that a bite mark?     “In here.” Holly pulled her friend into an alley with a crude wooden fence across the opening. “Give me a hand with this.” She grabbed one side of the dumpster. Victoria grabbed the other. Together they wrestled it over to the fence at the mouth of the alleyway.

    If they were lucky, that would hold against the pack of deadheads following them. She wished it was heavier. Maybe she could weigh it down with the loose bags of trash lying around. Holly started to ask for help again, but she stopped when she saw the way Victoria was cradling her arm.

    “Hey, you don’t look so good.”

    &ldq
The Mechanics Guide to PerspectiveThe Mechanic's Guide to Perspective

Daveo stood in front of the old brown car holding the bonnet up with his right hand, and stared into the greasy engine bay with a touch of resignation.
"Why does he keep booking in jobs like this?" he lamented to Swannie, who was laying out hand tools along the battered stainless workbench of the small mechanical workshop.

Swannie's permanent laconic grin turned towards Daveo.
"That sounds like a whinge to me."
Daveo rolled his eyes and put up the bonnet stay before replying.
"It's not a whinge, I'm just saying..."
"Whinge" Swanny interjected.
"...that he books in too many jobs on old shitboxes like
Browse More Like This
more ▶

More from =LadyofGaerdon

Cruelty...Cruel?

She considers. Could she really be cruel? Ironic. She has thought of herself as many things, over the years, so many of them unfavorable: ugly, stupid, kind, thoughtless, inconsiderate, good, a flake, a pushover, pathetic, self-sacrificing, doomed, cursed, a bad luck charm, awkward, pure, unlovable, untalented, ordinary, meaningless, broken. Many fair, many unfair. But cruel was never among them. Cruel was the last thing she thought she was. The last thing she wanted to be. Was it really so cruel, to keep the horrors to herself, rather than multiply them at the expense of her loved ones?

Yes.

But unintentionally so. For what good
UnderstandingShe wonders why she's writing in third person. Maybe because she's so detached. She no longer feels connected to herself, and she wonders how she feels about this. She's such a flake, such a screw-up, that maybe detachment is good. But herself is all she's ever been. Who is she if not her?

She stops. This is why you always burn these, she reminds herself. You get too lost in the meta. She remembers the positive side of detachment. Talking to yourself is less lonely when yourself feels like someone else.

She wishes she could be the self she idolizes. Seventeen. Not careless, not senseless, but unknowing. In the very best way. Everything ahea
Immortal CallI won't forget all I've found
Oh, you can't convince me
As this life fades into the background
I close my eyes and dream of what I could be

Distant shadows show the way
Oh, into the twilight
Lead me back to yesterday
Before I made the choice to lead a "real" life

Dancing moonlight
Whispering leaves
Tease this ghost inside of me
Can't return without your will
With every breath I feel the chill

Life is slipping out of me
To meet the voices in the trees
Don't leave me here
To face the light
Call me back into the night
Don't leave me here to face the dawn alone
Bring me home

Starlight burn emotion deep into these thirsting eye
The Ballad of SerenityA nightingale in a birch nearby,
sang a song that made her cry.
"Another note and I shall die!"
Her threat was met with no reply.

And so she rested by the stream,
and heard the crickets softly dream.
She watched the cattails kiss the stars,
believing heaven not so far.

"And here is where I shall be free,"
whispered fair Serenity.

The orphaned child, the strange young girl
born into an ancient world.
No elegance or skill had she
but the ballad, of Serenity.

She was cursed with just one song:
a ballad haunting, soft and long.
The words were never hers to hear,
but danced always beyond her ear.
On harp, flute, lyre she wiled aw

Featured in Groups:

:iconshortstackstories: #ShortStackStories
ShortStories Hot off the Griddle :icondalinksystem: #dALinkSystem
The Link System :iconunited-to-write: #United-To-Write
Writers Of The World Unite! :iconread-write-draw: #Read-Write-DRAW
 :iconoutstandingwriters: #OutstandingWriters
A place for exceptional writing! :iconrose-shadow-trilogy: #Rose-Shadow-Trilogy
by Rain Jeys (LadyofGaerdon) :icon15-minutes-of-fame: #15-Minutes-of-Fame
World famous in 15 min or less :iconlit-visual-alliance: #Lit-Visual-Alliance
Encouraging Artistic Cooperation

Details

May 20, 2011
6.1 KB
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 55
Favourites: 15 [who?]


Views: 785 (0 today)
Downloads: 18 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
[x]

=LadyofGaerdon has limited the viewing of this artwork
to members of the deviantART community only.

You can log in or become a member for FREE!

:iconladyofgaerdon:
Book Three excerpt! Technically. Book Two might be the one I'm supposed to be writing, but Book Three is the one that wants to be written. Possibly because it's full of all the dark stuff. Poisoning is mild by comparison.

Anyway, this one was written for `LadyLincoln's "Female Protagonist" mini-contest. [link] I had to keep it under 1,000 words, which was not exactly easy for me, but I think I did a decent job of having everything make sense in only 1,000 words.

EDIT: I don't normally do this but OMG I WON FIRST PLACE! I can't believe it. So happy! :dance:

Oh! And brownie points (because all of my real points have to go toward the contest) to anyone who can identify what the salve Rowenna used on her actually is. :plotting:


Because I've totally decided to start "illustrating" my submissions (thank you :icondalinksystem:!) here is an image that I think is rather perfect for this story, as it looks very much like Evlyn and has vines. :D



Evlyn Gavril Violet Raven


All comments, questions, critique etc. are worshiped, as usual. :eager: :worship: :heart: :dalove:
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
love 1 1 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconsammur-amat:
=Sammur-amat Nov 8, 2012   General Artist
Congratulations on the DLD, wonderful lady! :clap:
Reply
:iconladyofgaerdon:
=LadyofGaerdon Nov 10, 2012  Professional Writer
Thank yoU! :hug:
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
=Sammur-amat Nov 11, 2012   General Artist
You are most welcome:heart:
Reply
:iconladyofgaerdon:
=LadyofGaerdon Nov 12, 2012  Professional Writer
:heart:
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
=Sammur-amat Nov 17, 2012   General Artist
<3<3<3
Reply
:iconrlkirkland:
*rlkirkland Nov 6, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
My mental state is such that I can't abide much reading.
That said, I celebrate the success of familiar faces.
Congratulations on your DLD! :heart:
Reply
:iconrandomlyinspired-21:
!randomlyinspired-21 Nov 5, 2012  Student Writer
I wanna read Book Three so suddenly! ^^ It's so nice and original! :heart:
Reply
:iconladyofgaerdon:
=LadyofGaerdon Nov 5, 2012  Professional Writer
...did you just read ALL those chapter you faved!? So fast! And thank you so much! I'm kind of working on books two and three simultaneously right now.
Reply
:iconrandomlyinspired-21:
!randomlyinspired-21 Nov 6, 2012  Student Writer
XD haha yeah...though I didn't read them in order (a bad habit I have with books) and now I plan to reread them-in order this time!
Reply
:iconladyofgaerdon:
=LadyofGaerdon Nov 10, 2012  Professional Writer
They make a lot much sense in order. :D
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy