|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Emberlight RacesEmberlight flickers across your face,
We stand in silence, we run this race,
To get closer in this cold,
We both know, we are so bold.
(And you, I see, are looking at me,
I look back to you, then to my shoes)
Snowflakes are sticking to our hair,
You see I'm nervous, I don't know if I dare
Lean in to let you hold me while
My heart pounds as I smile.
(And these thoughts go through my mind,
And I know you, you are so kind
We stare at each for a small eternity,
Move forward just fractions,
Brush my skin so carefully
With fingers that hold such quiet passion.
(Your face, I see, so close to mine,
The stars fly by in sharp, straight lines)
Crush me to you as we collide,
Two souls meet like strong stormtides,
Crash, smash, fumbling, needing,
Always kissing, never forgetting.
(The cold winter air only just separates us,
We are hungry, we are ravenous)
When we break apart, we stand together, smile,
Hold on, try not to fall.
We talk in slow voices,
We've made our choic
A Better Way to Drown : 1A BETTER WAY TO DROWN
When the lights fade out,
All the sinners crawl.
—Imagine Dragons, "Demons"
COLD, RAGGED BREATH RAKED DOWN HIS THROAT, made his lungs spasm, spit and heave with the effort to breathe. He choked on blood, wiped it from his mouth and faced his brother, fingers clenching around the handgun.
Rain pounded on top of him like a merciless shower of bullets. It dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, mixing with blood and dripping down his cheeks like tears. The mud at his feet was tinged with deep red, it spattered his boots, caked his clothes, his skin.
"Given up already, Danny?" His brother smiled with cruel and sadistic amusement. "You never were one for heroics."
"No," he managed, "I haven't given up." The gun was cold under his fingers. But he didn't know if he could actually pull the trigger. If he pulled the trigger he'd become just like his brother: something dark and terrible, something brutal and heartless, a monster.
Create a Story...1Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Danny who always dreamed of becoming the world's best garbage-man. He trained every day for 18 hours in order to beat his rival, The Fierce Menace. The day of the big competition arrived, and Danny came armed with a box and his unstoppable determination. They were pitted against each other in a battle of wits, and Danny emerged as the icy victor! His achievement is celebrated every Halloween.
And She Loved Him Still :: Part 1AND SHE LOVED HIM STILL
PART 1. Underneath
Strip away the flesh and bone. Look beyond the lies you've known
I sit at the dinner table, staring across it into the eyes of my husband, wishing that I have the strength to tell him. To tell him, everything, everything I thought, everything I yearn to say. But I keep my mouth shut and keep eating.
My eyes wander over to the faces of my children, two girls, one boy. August, Isabel, and Adelina. August is turning seventeen this September, Isabel is fourteen, and Adelina is only eight.
"How was work today?" The words hitch in my throat, overly sweet and sticky, like sickening honey.
My husband raises his head and looks at me, really looks at me, and I know he really sees what he's been putting me through, what his work, this war, has been putting his family through. I know that he sees the shadows punched beneath my eyes, from long nights with no sleep, I know he sees how I've lost weight, I know he sees how the light ha
My GirlHeartache, anger, torment.
That girl, the girl with the pale gray eyes, and
hair that glitters with iridescence, like a crow's wing,
is staring at me with the harshest accusation in her eyes.
"You broke her heart, you smashed it to pieces.
You don't know what I went through to help her get back on her feet again.
She will never be the same because of you."
Falling, euphoria, hope.
I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to fall in love with her.
But there is something about her that her sister just didn't have.
A fierceness, a warrior's spirit, that I've never found before.
"Get away from me, you monster.
You think that I'm going to hook up with you, so that you
Can break my heart the way you broke hers? Not a chance."
Heartbreak, pain, depression.
I can't find a way to get over her. I know she
doesn't love me. But that doesn't mean
that I don't love her.
"The answer is still the same. No, no, no.
I will never be with you. Ever. I don't love youI don't even like you.
Lights Shine Darkly :: Snippet no. 3PROLOGUE
It's not the right thing, baby,
But the right thing suits so few.
--Hedley, "Heaven's Gonna Wait"
The man was on his knees, chained by the wrists to the wall. His head was bent, and his clothes torn.
Adrien's best and only true friend, Byron, was leaning against the wall, watching the prisoner warily. Both of them hated questioning prisoners, but Adrien always got the worse end of it, because he had a destructive Gift.
"Easy," Byron murmured as Adrien passed him, "You gotta keep it cool."
"Got it." Adrien knew that Byron was warning him. Byron was famous among the Rebels for his clairvoyanceit was always usefulbut the warning worried Adrien. "What's his name?"
"We've identified him as Marcus Tiller," Byron replied quietly, and Adrien automatically winced. This wasn't the first time he'd met Marcus.
"Alright." Adrien clasped and unclasped his hands. "Let's get to work."
Adrien strode toward the man called Marcus, turning off his kinder, more
This Sinner's Heart :: Chapter 3A NOTE TO THE READER:
Alright, since I've gone and revised my whole WIP for Lights Shine Darkly, and since this is a companion novel, I'll be revising the setting and changing it to the setting I'm now using. Since you guys have no idea what setting that is, I'll briefly explain it.
The year is 2027, and the war has been tearing everything apart for the past 7 years. There are three sides: the Government, who have the superior numbers, weapons, and power, the Rebels, who are outnumbered but have the people on their side, and the Outcasts, who are people just basically standing by and waiting for the war to end. Stick 17-year-old Byron Buckthorn in the middle of it (yes, I changed his last name and his age, I'm such a rebel XD) and there you have it. Currently we're in Australia, where Byron grew up, but later on we'll be headed off to North America, where the majority of the war is being fought.
Also, I will be slowly editing/rewriting chapter 1 and 2, but the same events will be
Lights Shine Darkly :: Snippet no. 2Once she shut the door, she felt her previous strength buckle and she stumbled.
Her hands slammed against the wall, and a choked sob scraped out of her mouth. She couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, wouldn't believe that she'd just threatened to kill someone. That she'd just become the very person she didn't want to be, even if just for a moment.
She touched her stinging cheek, and found that it was wet. A gasp hitched in her throat. She hadn't cried in yearshadn't ever found the strength to face the tears. But now she had.
Slowly, she made her way down the hallway, toward the elevator. She jammed her finger against the up button, and then rammed her fist at the 9 button inside.
Tia held on to the railing, clenching her fingers around it, like it was the last thing holding her about hell.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped into the dim hallway.
A door clicked shut, and ahead of her, she spotted a tall, dark figure, lean and muscular, shutting a door. Sh
Lights Shine Darkly :: Snippet no. 1PROLOGUE
ADRIEN'S EYES CRACKED OPEN and he lurched upright, a shout of panic lodged in his throat. He sucked in a deep breath of air, wincing as sharp blades of cold scraped his gut.
It was the nightmare againthe same one that had cut at his nerves every night for the past three years. The fire, the knife, he could still see it. The scream, his footsteps echoing off cold stone walls, he could still hear it. The salty sting of blood in his mouth, the bitterness of failure, he could still taste it.
Adrien dragged a hand through his dark, raggedly cut hair, heaving a sigh filled with frustration. His gunmetal blue eyes focused on Byron, his best and only friend, who was, at the moment, keeping watch. Not far away, he saw Keirthe man who played the role of his "second" father figuresprawled across the ground, held fast in the clutches of sleep.
Adrien straightened to his full height which, for his young age of eighteen, was tall. Stuck in a
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
Breathe AgainRain pours down on me,
Choking, crushing, throttling me,
Until I can scream no more.
Knees buckle beneath me,
Tears cling to my eyelashes,
Blood sticks to my scraped knees.
(Why, why, why?
Why did you do this to me?
Why did it have to be me?)
I can feel the waves
Rolling toward me, thunder a
Hazy backdrop to my grief.
Bloody fingerprints leave smears
Of red across damp pavement,
My skin is cold, wet, bloodless.
(What did I do to deserve this?
I never hurt you
Not like you hurt me)
My world is crashing, down, down, over me,
I cannot speak. I am mute. Silent.
I cannot breathe. I am dead. Gone.
Fire burns inside me, destroying,
Killing, hurting, but the rain sends
Fragments of cold through my heart.
(Blades flash through the edge of me,
Cutting, tearing, ripping,
Murdering mewho I used to be)
It doesn't get better. It never will.
But at least I won't drown in this torrent
Of rain and heartache.
At least you are no longer a part of me.
At least at last
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More