Sta.sh
this feature and these wonderful works of art, thank you!
I think we're all a little sad but also relieved that it's over. It's definitely been a hectic month for everyone, especially for those who were also doing other projects such as Script Frenzy (how do you do that?! 
), and simply because we do have real lives too. So without further ado, I present to you the lovely people who completed the NaPo challenge (and posted it before the deadline, that is)!
Collapse by ~smilewithlove tradition: Day 18 by ~Stara-Aquila
Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests, and spotlighting a specific group every week. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
ing this News Article.
For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
Wow! The response for this has been HUGE!!! Thank you so much all of you who have participated! Don't forget to add #CRLiterature to your watch as well as replying to all these wonderful comments! 
Hello my admirable Allies! It's time again to showcase more of the excellent Allied Artwork pieces that have been making their way into our Featured Folder over at #Lit-Visual-Alliance.
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Polishing VenusI wear a blue plastic retainer at night. It's painful, tight on my teeth, as if my mouth has outgrown it. I don't put it in often enough, so the shape of my jaw twists and changes, until I remember how much I despised braces and consent to slip it in, and I lie awake at night, loathing the imperfection of my teeth and the ache that pulses there as my mouth readjusts to the wires and plastic that force my jaw into the correct position.
I wear glasses too – ugly things, dark maroon on top, with a thin, squishy plastic wire on bottom instead of another rim. Not many people know I have them. When I was a kid, I had the rimless kind – s
The 100 Things That Rammstein Left Behind - 01The 100 Things That Rammstein Left Behind - A Rammstein Fanfiction
Let's face it, you learn a lot through life. Mistakes are lessons too, of course, you learn the best from mistakes.
But really. You'd rather learn without the pain, wouldn't you?
One hundred vignettes of six lives woven into a single story. Till POV throughout - mostly. This is as of June 2012 the darkest thing I've written and is honestly not for the faint of heart; I won't pretend that this isn't offensive. If you don't like death, for one (out of everything else discussed), this fic is not for you. Contains a lot of concepts and incidents that will make you feel uncomfor
The Hottest 30 DaysThe traffic never bothered him until he had nowhere to go.
It took two hours to get across town and he forgot the applications.
There wasn't snow on the ground, so he pulled over
and parked in a tow away zone. He walked around
the center of that city and thought about his father standing in line
with him at the Hartford shopping mall twenty seven years earlier
in the town where he grew up.
Middle-nowhere, Illinois.
It's Christmas time and all of the other children are
pissing themselves with anticipation.
Over the scent of plastic evergreens and candy canes,
his father still smells like motor oil and top shelf bourbon.
The
Tanka Ia swan, snow-feathered,
you seemed, until you molted
to reveal a duck
with feathers like the mountain:
snow melting, lilies blooming
Appetite Comes with the Eating1. The real horror of October
is the winter, the rising darkness.
It's said they caught him weeping,
heard him babbling about the steam in the snow,
the brown mass that had been a person—
his little girl, dead from the cold.
He ate his wife and daughters.
And when the villagers came for him,
he let them take him—to the tree
in the center of the square, where he hung,
discolored with frostbite and gangrene.
They called him Wendigo,
gave him to the spirit of the Dying Season,
and hoped that he would rest.
2. My ancestors had a word for his kind—
Strigoi.
They would have cut out his heart
to stop him from feeding.
Bless the AutumnLet us lie among the autumn leaves
And listen to the whispers made
By the slow-flowing hearts of trees.
Give thanks for fire and woodsmoke
And clandestine caresses under blankets
Piled high beneath the naked oak.
Bless the waning sun and warm chocolate
And the heat of lovers' hands and hearts.
Nightdance and ShadowplayCome on, all you ghosties – let's make one last stand.
Dive through the mirrors of our hands,
wonderland the way we script our souls
into the spine of each woman we love
like an arpeggio, like a broken chord
splitting the night sky of New Orleans
two months after Katrina painted the town.
Blue as the cracked and jagged line that snow-
shuddered mountains draw in the memory of sand
between sky and shattered, the calligraphy of the earth
we lie and say isn't our own, come on, all you ghosties.
Let's pretend that when the glass menageries broke,
they didn't become snow, that every time
the sky writes you a love letter, yo
WaldeinsamkeitA murder of ravens
spits black
on a vermillion coloured day,
as a spine of leaves
crumbles under the pressure
of ghostly weight;
Its pieces of autumn,
borne by a whirling breath,
brush a lonely thought:
This winter will be cold.
Team: 
Fixed! Thanks for pointing it out. 
