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The ListShe has a list.
She has a long, long list, spanning many pages in her notebook. There are pages upon pages, coated in a messy scrawl of blue gel ink that varies in freshness from hours to years.
Every night, she adds to it. Every night, religiously, ever since she can remember. She has to stay up as long as it takes to add whatever she can recall to her list, no matter how tired or how busy she is. If one were to happen past her house on any particular night, odds are the light would be shining brightly as she frantically scribbled in her notebook.
Her list is precious to her. She isn't proud of it, but she needs it with her always.
Almost Human - Chapter 1: Prelude to MadnessI hope you enjoy the little gift I left behind. I'd love to see your face right now as you receive it. Your blood must be boiling over, your heart racing for the horror your eyes have witnessed, your mind flooding with adrenaline to come after me. All that drive and resolve drowning that constant stoic and brooding stare. Oh, how I'd love to be standing right in front of you to witness the reaction to my present. But alas, my attention is needed elsewhere. That idiot Harley Quinn of mine cannot function properly without my lead. But don't you fret my dear Dark Knight, by the time you finished reading this I'll be waiting for you. I will be wa
Almost Human - Chapter 2: Not as it SeemsCome on Batsy baby! Let us add another wonderful dance to our grand play!" the Joker laughed manically, arms thrown in the air as if reaching to his Batman for an embrace.
Batman charged for him, that crazed laughter rang agonizingly in his mind. He had to silence that unbearable laughter! He pulled back and punched the Joker in the face with all his might. Almost immediately Joker was bleeding profusely from his nose, he stumbled backwards but he kept smiling. He didn't stop; he connected numerous punches and kicks until the clown crashed onto the ground. With weak giggles he managed to lift himself up and dusted himself off.
Reminder"Why--why do you hate me?" he snapped brokenly. "I've never--never done anything to you. But you hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"Really? Because I see the way you act around me--quiet and distant. You don't laugh when I'm in the room. But you're different with everyone else. When you can't see me, you're loud, happy... What did I do?" He seems defeated, slumping back.
She feels horrid.
"It's not really your fault," she says slowly, looking away. "I'm sorry. I like you. I really do."
"You remind me of someone. I loved them, but they're gone now. Sometimes, I look at you and I see their face. You'll say something and I hear their voice. I feel... guilty, I guess, for liking you. Things didn't end well between us."
He pauses. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"No, it's fine. I needed to get over it anyway."
He nods, getting up to leave.
"Just so you know," he says, "I really like you, too."
Forgotten"How was I supposed to know?" he says softly to her back as she starts to leave. "How was I supposed to know you weren't happy? That things weren't working out? You never told me."
"You were supposed to listen," she snaps, turning around. "You were supposed to ask. That's what couples are supposed to do--communicate."
"I spoke to you every day," he murmurs. "I'd ask you what your friends said, what you did, how work was..."
"You never asked how I was!"
"Would you have told me if I had? Because I don't think you would've. I think you would've just let the whole thing sit there and then you would've left anyway, with some other excuse."
She shakes her head harshly, turning around again.
"You promised that you'd never leave!" he shouts at her back.
"Yeah? Well, you swore you'd never break my heart."
Philosophy-*Raphael's POV* I live with in a place where monsters seem to pop up everywhere and just attack. It is mainly of no reason WHY they exist and they attack. They just appear.
When I was a little kid, I fought them. I had powers, like my siblings did. My brother was a reaper of human darkness that made him stronger each time. My sister, she had powers of thr worldly elements. And me, well, life, death rebirth, and the flow of time that connects each one (time was of a lesser power) and a bum leg (which I tell about because it is another part of me). However, I digress. As I was saying, for a time I fought off these monsters, because I thought I had t
I opened the door and stepped through it. The old man who’d appeared to me had told me this is where I would find my answer. My greatest weakness. And the power to overcome it. He told me I would find the answers to these questions.
I found myself standing at the beginning of a long corridor lined with doors. Each door was identical; the same shape, size, and color. But there were labels on each door, all of them different. The old man had told me that these doors would be here, but they would not open. He said they were shortcuts to the end and that they were forbidden paths, and if they were to open somehow, they would lead to
Suicide #1 of 26 SuicidesThe breeze from the window into his study was rarely quiet. Occasionally, late at night, much too late in most cases, he could be seen by mentally unstable passersby, seen at his battered old ship of a desk, just barely through the ground floor window of his row house, seated beside a table lamp of fancy descent, scratching his cheeks and reflecting on one thing or another with brazen indifference to the world around him and acute curiosity about everything else.
This was his alone time.
Sometimes he read. Crime novels mostly. Sometimes he caught up on work. Law briefs written by childless thirty year olds generally.
Sometimes he unlocked
Les bourreaux– Bonjour, j’ai besoin d’aide. J’en cherche des bonnes, pouvez-vous me conseiller?
– Ne cherché pas plus loin, car de toutes ces tortures que vous avez inventées, je suis la meilleure, ou la pire selon le point de vue. Je n'ai point l'air modeste, il faut cependant regarder le monde en face.
– D’accord. Et qu’ont-elles de spécial celles-là?
– De spécial ? Mais c'est justement ce que je fais : j'oblige mes victimes à regarder le monde en face. Un monde cru, horrible. Leur vie devient un enfer où toutes choses perçues les blessent davantage. Dans celui-ci, le diable – moi en l&rsquo
...All religions preaching love
Without any comprehension
What in fact it really means
Limited by this dimension
Misinterpreting the words
Of the few who bridged the border
And in vain tried to explain
Meaning underlying order
deeper bruisesback when i was all chubby cheeks and wide eyes i would sit on my grandma’s lap (her knees were sharp and bony, but i didn’t mind much) and listen to her tell tales about her abusive first husband. and how when she was my age, she returned home from school to see her baby brother cold and lifeless on the kitchen tile. she called me brave when i didn’t cry at her stories, and i can’t help but wonder if she would still call me that. when i told my mother her face paled and eyes widened with rage, because little girls were supposed to dream of princesses, not marks left behind from belt buckles.
i was grossly interested
Factory LifeFactory Life
Well, yes actually, I do know what swimming feels like.
It was back ten or twelve quarters ago, the time I actually got to go swimming. The band got together (me, Scally, and Johnson . . . Barret was there too) and we headed out, back towards that dead area in sector Mu . . . the one between us and the RPC management department. You know the one. Yeah, that one. It was a lot bigger back then.
Johnson had heard a story about a conduit of water the size of a tramline. Heard it from some maintenance dude, I guess. We decided to check it out.
We were gone for almost six shifts, searching up catwalks and through maintenance duct
5.21one day i met this boy with dark hair and eyes that seemed too intense to be real, and i swear his soul shined brighter than the stars. we would sit on his balcony and stare up at the sky, pretending we knew where life was heading for us; pretend that we were invincible. he told me about how art is something that taps into your brain and takes over, that art is the only thing capable of saving you. (i never asked what it saved you from, but i think i know now.) i told him that when i was little i was scared of jumping off the swings because i didn’t want to get hurt. he said it was ironic. i pretended that i didn’t understand that
Falling for you.There were strange noises she couldn’t name, coming from somewhere she couldn’t tell.
The forest was dark and dense, and Zaria lost her footing a few time over tree roots and dips in the forest floor. The noises were making her paranoid so she tried to ignore them.
She followed Javier whose cat like eyes seemed to know every inch of the woodland. They walked in silence for a long period now; the last time they spoke was Javier’s idea to take Zaria to the village on the other side of the forest. The forest separated two neighbouring kingdom’s, Zaria’s Kingdom, Aclance and the kingdom on the other side, Epla.
Just give me a reason.Just give me a reason, anyone at all.
To show me that your worth the pain and struggle.
That your worth the heartache of this disease.
Just say something. Anything. Please.
Just one good reason why I should love you so,
but of course you won't, and I'll never know.
The runaway princess"It's dawning...", a voice said matter-of-factly.
"I know" replied a man with a deep sigh laced with worry, her father. Zaria hid in the shadows, peering through the small crack in the semi opened door. She didn't dare to breath, or she would be ushered away to her room. She squinted straining her to make out the other person in the room. Her father a swayer of a vast kingdom sat at his desk, frantically drying the drops of sweat from his round face. Tugging at his collar in a effort to cool himself down.
Zaria's mind raced in a effort to make sense of what was happening, her father was usually a calm, yet jolly man though now he seemed flu
Crying, what's the point?I've been hurt, badly burnt, by people I love the most.
The one I was died because it’s not normal not to smile.
I followed a path, learnt to laugh, but I'm really not myself.
Forcing smiles to hide the lies, that are buried deep inside.
I used to cry out and scream and shout.
But now I say nothing and keep it in.
For the peace there was, is long gone because of tears that dripped down my face.
Now every time I feel sad, lonely or bad, I fight back the tears despite the fears and say;
“Please don’t cry, your just wasting your time you're the problem not the solution anyway, so dry up, and shut up you’re probably better
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More