Blood Regent: FaithfulThe rosary beads were cold on his fingertips. The old bricks of the church smelled of mold, corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the Loch.Blood Regent: Faithful by OfOneSoul
“Oh, my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended Thee," he began reciting. He rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the votive candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee, my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?”
Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant. Distant memories clouded his mind much like the skies the day he received the mark. He trembled as if lightning were coursing through him again.
DIMIDIUM - (3) Mysteries3. MysteriesDIMIDIUM - (3) Mysteries by Jubchili
The wind had died down as the group reached the end of the plains.
After a bit of walking the group had finally reached the border line of the plains and the beginning of the crystal outcrop. Small and medium sized crystals were protruding from the ground like tall towers suddenly appearing on the horizon of a plain.
"Look. Over there", Aleria pointed towards the crystals,"We've come to the start of the crystal terrain".
The crytals protruded from the ground in single narrow spikes with needle sharp tips - each one at least fifteen feet tall, creating an infinite forest of white, yellow, pink and blue hues.
The group walked on a little further towards the crystals. Zaara's and Seph's eyes darted from crystal to crystal, admiring their shiny, smooth surfaces. They were scattered quite far from each other.
A high echo of voices filled the silence in the air, causing all but Aleria to jump. Zaara and Seph looked around but found nothing but the crystals. Zaara almost re
Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 1Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 1 by The-Writing-Raichu
Dead leaves swirled about Izaak’s muddy shoes as he stood outside the gate, unable to cross the threshold into the prison he used to call a home. Paint peeled off the face of the walls, the once proud wooden door was worn beyond repair from the years of neglect and the windows were so grimy that the sun could never hope to pierce the thick layer of dirt, even on the brightest of days.
The heavens opened up with rain as he pushed the cold steel gate open and stepped inside the garden. His school uniform matched the grey colour of the rainclouds which loomed overhead and the overgrown lawn stirred in the strengthening wind as he walked along the path towards his home.
Once he reached the door he shoved it with his shoulder, but it was locked. He licked his chapped lips which were the same pale blue as his eyes, they must have gotten tired of waiting for me, he thought. He fished the key out from his pocket and, after some forcing, unlocked the latch. Stepping inside h
Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 2Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 2 by The-Writing-Raichu
Izaak knew running away from home was dangerous, but for the first time in his life he felt like he was in control. He took a deep breath of the sweet scented night air and savoured his first taste of freedom.
He felt so alive at that moment, even the cold drizzle of rain found it hard to dampen his spirits. His head turned to the sky and he spotted the moon through a gap in the dense blankets of clouds. He almost considered howling at the glimmering orb, but he decided against it.
Instead he tightened his grip on his rucksack and sprinted away from his house, jumping clean over the front gate with ease. Nothing could stop him now, he thought as he landed in the deserted street and raced over the empty road towards the direction of the forest.
The rows of houses and streetlamps and cars were blurs to Izaak as he blazed past them, finally coming to a stop when he caught his first glimpse of the forest edge where the road ended and the trees began.
Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 3Curse of the Ninetailes - Act 3 by The-Writing-Raichu
When Izaak woke he was still on the floor of the chamber, looking up at the diamond covered roof. All the pain from his ordeal had gone, except for a tingle in his chest. Rolling over, he tried to get up but found that he was unbalanced and it took more than a few bumps before he could stand without trouble. Once steady he began to look himself over.
His new body was covered in red fur that had the same tint as expensive wine, except for his four small paws, which were a chocolate brown colour and his chest which was as white as a fresh ball of cotton wool. It was then that he realised what he was.
“I’m a Vulpix,” he shouted as he sprung into the air.
He shook his long, pointed ears with glee and yelped at the first glance of his six curled tails as they wagged furiously at him. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. Bursting into a frantic sprint he tripped and stumbled around the chamber, though he wasn’t the most graceful of Vulpix
Shall I? (Dragon Age)S’raaka Adaar did not look good in a dress. It could also be said that she looked ridiculous and certainly out of place.Shall I? (Dragon Age) by Armaiti-Zarich
The crinoline skirt of the dress made her hips look wider than usual and with her silvery skin, horns and pale hair she stood out of the swirling, chattering crowd like a mountain on the verge of a valley.
So much for a masquerade—no mask, however elaborate, could conceal the dramatic difference of figure and race. She was an outsider among the pompous nobles, upstart felons and wealthy merchant princes.
Speaking of merchant princes, the dwarf at the Inquisitor’s side coughed as if to alert his company to an incoming gush of speech—and speak he did: “Truly your beauty stands out among the lessers, Horny.”
“One more word and I’ll teach you the truths of pain, dwarf.”
“Charmed.” he chuckled, grabbing the first glass of spirits that came within his reach.
S’raaka looked around—this was no plac
Half Made WholeLong years I wrote, to try to fill the hollow —Half Made Whole by copper9lives
That perfect understanding death denied me;
Where acceptance promised, I would follow…
Bitterness and longing walked beside me.
Arising from the nadir of my choice,
I lifted up my jaded eyes to find
My heart and hopes were echoed in your voice;
My thoughts and visions mirrored in your mind.
Your stars and mine are synchronized, it seems —
The other half, for which I’d always pray:
You say the things I've only ever heard in dreams
I tell you what I've only ever hoped to say.
AutumnTilting past the equinoxAutumn by copper9lives
Slipping on the angled light
My place in time is losing tread
And falling into winter’s bite.
BlindNot a word was saidBlind by Garnette1601
about all the things she used to be.
No tears were shed
over her inability to see.
She accepted no extra of anything
never took any form of pity.
She walked alone
her path was set independently.
She had an apt for science,
stored it at ease in her memory,
But never drew one diagram,
but all of the teachers just let her "be."
Her sight dog was her wings,
he let her walk alone, wild and free.
Her other senses were gold and smooth,
"compensation" for her disability.
Her eyes were red and scarred
from when hurt them, when she was three.
On the Sport of Gopher-HuntingOur next-door neighbors' yard was disfigured with gray basketball-sized dirt mounds. A gopher was living in the area and seemed to take great joy in constant destruction. One day the neighbors' two kids, Chris, Marissa, and I decided that we would finally do something about the unwanted tunnel occupant. So we asked their parents if we could perform this important task. After we got the go-ahead, Marissa grabbed their hose. Once it was down one of the gopher holes, Chris turned the water on. We were going to flood the gopher's home and force him to come out. To our six-through-nine year old minds, this was the most brilliant idea ever.On the Sport of Gopher-Hunting by Darjavine
Of course, that afternoon had started out like any other afternoon. The three of us were hanging around each other's yards, playing tag or hide-n-seek. When some of the fun had died down, I had looked at Chris and Marissa's backyard. It had been torn up for as long as I could remember. "You know,
(1) This One Time at Band Camp...We were in squads trying to teach the freshman a thing or two about marching. Frankly our squad was being very dysfunctional and we were not doing anything productive. Personally I blame it on having such a big squad. Normally, in my band at least, there are only three to five or so people in a squad plus squad leaders. Originally we had like three people in our squad and three squad leaders, but we ended up combining with another one. So we ended up with this huge crazy squad. Let's put it this way. If we wanted to, we had enough instruments from each section to create our own mini-band.(1) This One Time at Band Camp... by ElizaBob
So, naturally we were all off topic because there were just too many of us. However, when we were on task it wasn't the best thing either. I think the first crazy thing with us was, we couldn't hear because our squad leaders were not being loud enough. At one point, because of this the squad was told to do a left flank, but half the squad didn't hear so all of a sudden we were split in two going into
My Opinion on CritiquesHey everyone!My Opinion on Critiques by ChocolateQuill
Some of you know me--especially if you watch me and keep up with the goings on with my profile. Some of you don't. But I can assure you that I am not a mean nor malicious person.
So why is it, when I give some people constructive critique, am I pinned as:
A: a troll
B: a 'Hater'
It's an interesting concept for me to debate and discuss. And rant about.
See, I have a rule:Avoid critiquing people on a subject I haven't studied and theorized on an extensive amount...or one I wouldn't automatically welcome to receive critique about in return.
Those who dish out critique with 0% experience is just mean, and cruel. Not that I'm saying that I'm all knowing either. ESPECIALLY in the thing that I critique most often--What do I critique, you ask?
A:Written pieces (I have a group for it, too!)
B: Character bios and character creation (especially fan characters).
It's rather hard to 'know all', though it is possible to 'know a very good amount'. We all have different ex
TechnologyTechology has simplified life ridiculously. I'm surprised at the number of people who still even bother to read the paper in the morning.Technology by AimeeRaindrop
With the internet only a click of the mouse away and hourly news updates on the television or radio, the humble newspaper hasn't really got any relevance to a progressive culture.
We live in a society of convenience; the communities that formerly produced tomorrow's powerful and intelligent leaders cease to do so as education becomes more generalised and technology plays an increasingly important part in our everyday lives in an attempt to create a broad, adaptable citizenry.
Has the industrial revolution, i.e. the introduction of machinery into the workplace to do our manual labour and to entertain us in the family home, ultimately brought about the decimation of our previously active lifestyles? I say yes.
The truth is, less than one in five british citizens now get their recommended amount of exercise, and a major contributor to these new sloth-li
An Apple A Day (Warning: Death)A year ago the world was overpopulated.An Apple A Day (Warning: Death) by tophtheblindbandit
Places that had previously only contained a small amount of people at a time had become so full it was difficult to go a few feet without needing to push past someone.
If you lived in one of the more populated areas you may have needed to sleep standing up, surrounded by strangers as everyone you knew had been swept away in the crowd.
Places that had once been completely deserted had suddenly gained a population. People moving to burning hot deserts and icy cold Antarctica to escape the mob of people continuing to grow.
Then a month ago it stopped.
The population started slowly decreasing.
People started dropping dead in the street.
Everyone is dying and people are calling it a miracle.
Does no-one else notice the strangeness of this situation?
A helicopter appears in the sky, apples falling from it like hundreds of tiny bombs.
Each member of the crowd grabbing one fruit each. After a few weeks of the helicopters visits everyone quickly learned n
The Case of Rachel Bluestar Detective Falken had been on the force for twenty years. He had started out as a beat cop and worked his way up, finally achieving the title of detective seven years ago. He wasn’t a strict by-the-book type, but he wasn’t some loose cannon rogue either. He knew how to read a situation and could accurately determine the best way to handle it. In twenty years on the force, he had just about seen it all. So it was truly saying something that what he looked at now had him dumbfounded.The Case of Rachel Bluestar by MidnightDaybreak
He stood behind the two-way mirror looking into the interrogation room, where a young girl was seated at a table.
“What’s this one’s name?” he asked the officer standing next to him.
The cop looked down at the case file he held. “Rachel Bluestar, age thirteen. She was picked up today after receiving a call from one of her neighbors. Apparently her family was having a barbeq
the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.the mechanisms of ocean waves by sylveda
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
My father told me never to plunge int
Burns NightI should have listened to my mother when she told me never to hang out with irresponsible drinkers. I never imagined the irresponsible drinker to be me, however.Burns Night by Armaiti-Zarich
We were sitting in a cosy little tavern, eating a traditional dinner of haggis, neeps and tatties. Obligatory St. Andrew’s crosses decorated the windows, bagpipe music playing in the background. There were five of us at the table—me, Kenny, Sebby, Chiara and Matt. A Czech, two Scots, an Italian and an American. In short: a deadly combination.
Matt was the one to get drunk first. I found that odd, since we were celebrating Burns’ night, not the Independence Day or something as equally American. However, that was when the things started to get interesting.
“This will put hair on your chest.” Matt announced as he poured me yet another dram of whisky.
“I really shouldn’t…” I hesitated, but after getting a series of disgusted frowns from all around the
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