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Writing Exercise 2, CompleteThe bottle shook, rattling. Pills fell against each other in the tremors, clicking on the orange-golden plastic of the container. Their name was written on the label. Shaking white hands fussed with the top, tugging, pressing, twisting. It opened with a jerk, contents spilling out onto the tile floor of the bathroom.
In the dark, the only light came from the street lamp outside, barely glowing orange through the window. The boy sat still, gray eyes darting haltingly to each caplet as he counted, lips barely moving as he mouthed the numbers. Seven, Five, Nine, Ten--
Shaggy black hair fell in front of him as he shifted onto his knees, the rest of the pills clattering down as he dropped the container and supported his weight on his hands. Twelve, Four, Nineteen--
He took a pill between his thumb and forefinger, raising it up to his mouth to push it against his tongue. He crunched down on it. One. He re
Writing Exercise 1It fell the way many things fell from that world- as a strike of lightning to the earth. A tree split down the middle, falling apart in a blaze of terrible beauty, framing the figure with orange light. It stood on unsure legs, knees buckling with a desire to give, body twitching from crackles of electricity winding around it.
Water flooded down from the black clouds in the sky, hissing in the flames and drenching the soldier clad in white. The simple tunic hugged her meager frame like a lover, rippling in liquid-like manners both thick and fluid. Her boot covered feet tottered forward in the mud, sticking and peeling, sinking and sliding. She tumbled like a marionette with its strings cut, face splashing in filth on the ground as strands of snowy hair were clumped together by the muck.
Her hands sunk into the sludge as she rose, mouth hanging slightly open as she softly, slowly panted. Droplets beaded and fell from her n
End Chapter with Richard"Richard!" Damascus cried happily, all traces of the cold face gone. He was alight, pulling the adorable boy into his arms, nuzzling his cheek.. Richard squirmed uncomfortably, his wheat blond hair inherited from his mother, the same with his small form, large round eyes, and soft pink lips. Hudson snarled and pulled Richard away from their father possessively, earning a pout from the man before he reached to take him back. Hudson stood, pushing Richard onto the chair behind him, and Damascus scowled up at Hudson. "Richard, get out of the way," he demanded.
"For the last time- I'M HUDSON," the dark one growled. Turning around, he glared at Richard. "What are you doing here anyway, fairy-pants?" Richard scowled up at his other and said, "You can't just bring me to some place I don't know in Europe and leave me so you can go drinking! I followed you, you jackass. Now take me home." "Richard, give daddy a hug--"
A Chapter of HudsonHudson stretched after finishing his third drink, talking to Damascus about the recent developments in his life, the way sons sometimes conversed with their fathers. It was a game of catch up, and Damascus enjoyed it because he could watch 'Richard's' face. For Hudson was Richard, and yet they were nothing alike. Born of Richard's mind and power, Hudson was a will all of his own, and certainly not someone to be trifled with.
He was daunting and oppressive, cunning and cruel. And he took great pride in his creator. Stalking Richard was one of his favorite hobbies. It was a time to observe, admire, and even to protect. Though he traveled often on his own, seeing sights and making tracks for himself, it was to Richard that Hudson would always return. For darkness was always drawn to light, and to Hudson, Richard was as bright as the sun.
"You have your mother's eyes, Richard," Damascus smiled, reaching
A Chapter of DamascusThe bar where Damascus stood was filled with humans, though of course he wasn't having his private conversations out in the open. Pocketing his cell phone, he headed down the deserted back-exit hallway, pleased that this time around there had been no one was loitering for 'make-out lane.' He headed out to the place where the walking snacks were dancing about, and just as he reached the edge of seclusion, he straightened. His warm smile froze into an immaculate mask of harsh superiority.
People stared, women and men alike, and he ignored them all, raising one finger to the bartender that knew him well enough by now to get his drink. It was placed in front of him, and he picked it up with slender fingers, bright green eyes looking out into the crowd. A young woman blushed when she met his gaze, but he stared straight through her with disinterest, letting her know that she was far beneath him. No human was good enough for h
A Chapter of EvanEnnis appeared snickering, running his fingers back through his hair before his bright green eyes met those of his brother, the slightly smaller vampire having sharp, defined features, and platinum blond hair. He looked absolutely beautiful, and at the same time absolutely cold. He smirked at Ennis as he poured two cups of tea. "I don't really like tea, Ev, you know that," Ennis said as he sat down. He snatched up a pastry from the little tier tray at the center of the table and popped it into his mouth as Evan pushed the tea in his direction. "I made this batch just for you, Brother. You'll like it." Taking a sip of appraisal, Ennis grinned and made a noise of delight. Swallowing joyfully, he took another pastry and devoured it.
"Father dearest is running awfully late today. . ." Ennis said as he looked at the clock on the wall; the hour was ten past one, and their date had been scheduled promptly for Midnight.
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More