ImposterDeath is burdened with rumors. It’s fabled to be dark, cold and painful, with aftereffects of loneliness. I had a dream I died, once. My death was warm, accepting, relieving. It lifted the load I was carrying since my birth—filled with my mistakes, regrets and troubles. I was set free from them. Most people spend life fearing death—ignoring it because they don’t understand and that makes them scared. Sometimes what you think is best can easily be replaced by something that’s better. And sometimes the best thing is mistaken for the worst. So what should we really fear?Imposter by DKBookmaster
Breath"June? Juniper!" I could hear Reko's voice above me.Breath by DKBookmaster
I tried sitting up. But it was so hard! I screamed with pain, blinking the tears out of my eyes. Wait tears? I was crying? I didn’t even have enough strength to notice. All I could think of was the burning pain in my chest.
"Don’t—“ Reko said forcing me back onto the cold floor. Great—this felt a whole lot better. “You’re going to be okay. Just rest.”
“Reko, we both know that’s a lie. It won’t make either one of us feel better. Lying. Can’t fool—" I groaned. “I can’t hold out much longer than this. You need to take my power.”
“No! You’ll be just fine.” Reko assured. He was trying so hard to believe that lie.
“Reko—Breathe in the light. Take my Haela. The Haela—it will help you, regardless of what you think. It will let you see your true power." I mumbled, my voice slowly growing to a whisper as it stoppe
The Redemption (Poem)The Redemption (Poem) by JCSolis01
I make this strong vow on this hollow eve
That I will not default in my quest to succeed
And forfeit my soul should I lose my own way
Dishonor my name if I dare go astray
For I have a future, a purpose to behold
Yet my sloth and my arrogance be weights on my back
For these and much more seem to hold me in binds
To keep me from reaching these dear goals of mine
I make this strong vow so that I may succeed
Through these endeavors I shall fight through and win
For my future is bright and the prospects like tall
Yet the closing of the tunnel starts to make it look small...
For I have thrown many opportunities away
It is the price of those actions that I will soon pay
Yet it is now in my regret I have learned this sad truth
The world will not care if I succeed or run aloof
House Of The ForgottenBroke into the houseHouse Of The Forgotten by DylanSeto
of the forgotten but -
What I was looking for.
Came upon a chair
made of tear fall
Found a fireplace filled
of screams and mourns,
Saw how the halls
Twist and turn,
Saw the walls
Evade my sight.
Saw The ceilings hold
on to heaven's gate.
Broke into the house
of the forgotten.
What I was looking for.
|A message from and |
Hi Everyone!! Bienvenidos (mira bajo)
Welcome to Writing-4-life, a group where you can share your skills and inspire others to write amazing things!! This is a group for poets, fanfic authors, original story writers, and watchers alike to comment, critique, and give ideas to one another.
Join right ahead and submit some amazing literature! Who knows, today its DA, tomorrow...it's the Bestseller's list.
Being a small group, we'd enjoy some support...so invite your friends on DA, watchers, the people you watch, and others to come and join in the fun! You can also help by suggesting affiliates so we could share the inspiration!
Anyways, It's sorta necessary that I lay down the law, here:
> not too inappro-pro. Let's keep this group rated PG-13, k?
> don't troll/spam/cyber-bully/stalk/creep upon any other member of the group. It's just rude, and if reported, your membership in this group will be taken away from you, please contact if something happens as well as normal procedures.
> 10 deviations a day, until our gallery starts getting out of hand
> It's nice to be nice.
> Put your deviations in the right category... please? We have lives to, it takes time to sort and file things that can be easily done by the person.
>It is automatic acceptance but submitting artwork like drawings is rude and a hassle for those of us who have to check to clear it out.
> Have fun, and enjoy!!
Well, anyways, thanks for visiting our page!!
Bienvenidos, personas de paises como España, Nicaragua, Argentina, Colombia, Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, y otras al grupo "Writing-4-Life" un collecion va a hacer creado despues de 2011. ¿Es posible nos da tus poemas y historias?
Vessels: Prologue Although the longest, busiest street of Gruanksen City possessed the uncreative official name of Gruanksen Street, most residence simply knew it as “Marketplace”. And for good reason: the wide, lengthy road was always bustling with shoppers, lined with small venues selling just about anything a person could imagine. Children ran around, waving sticks of candy and laughing in high, bubbly voices, and pets mingled and played, racing to snag scraps of fallen foods.Vessels: Prologue by featheringwhisper
Despite its popularity, not all of the hundreds of shops contained in Marketplace were very well known, or really got any customers more than once a day. One of these lesser used locations was a small, purple tent, labeled “Fortuneteller and Psychic”. At the desk in front of it sat a bored looking teenager, his head pillowed on his arm. The only reason why a person wouldn’t think he was asleep was because his eyes were open, staring blankly down the road i
Crisis: Chapter 1 Chapter 1Crisis: Chapter 1 by featheringwhisper
At night, the streets of Lower Town were quiet. Not completely quiet – there was still the low murmur of secret deals made after midnight, of men wandering the streets after drinking too much to find their way home, of couples in their beds. But it was a stark contrast to Lower Town’s usual noisy, overcrowded daytimes.
Isandro, one of the inhabitants of the Lower Town, took the time to enjoy that near silence, perched precariously on the roof of his house. Every night he would climb the wild vines that traced up the side of his family’s home, a small bag thrown over his shoulder, and settle on the loosely attached shingles. From the bag, he’d take whatever activity he’d chosen for that night – a book to read, a sketchpad to draw on, or maybe just a snack to eat.
There was also a bit of a thrill every time
Dell's Journey to Candy MountainCici: This my first story so no flames please. Start us off DellDell's Journey to Candy Mountain by LadyMarigold
Dell: Cici does not own us or Charlie the Unicorn.
Kaito and Len: No Vocaloids were harm in the making of this story
Dell was chilling in his hammock, resting his eyes and smoking his cigarette after working a long day at the Crypton Music Studio. It was his personal Heaven on earth until… When the two male divas approached him, Len and Kaito.
"Hey Dell, Hey Dell, wake up!" Len said, poking the white haired man.
"Hey Dell, you silly sleepyhead, wake up!" Kaito said, also poking him.
Annoyed he put out his cigarette, put the packs in his pants pocket and said. "Ugh, oh god, its you two, this better fucking important, did the fangirls break into studio again?" He asked, and then shuddered from the horrible memory of crazed fangirls.
"No Dell, we found a map to Candy Mountain, Candy Mountain Dell." Len explained.
"Yeah Dell, we're going to Candy Mountain, come with us Dell!" Kaito squealed.
"Yeah Dell, it'll be an adve
Population Zero Chapter OnePopulation Zero Chapter One by TheNewFireDancer
Living on earth has always been a hard thing to do, too many people, too many responsibilities, and the threat of war was always hanging overhead, and that was before things took a turn for the worst. The disease didn't spread like it always did in the movies, in secret with only government officials aware of it, there was a mass panic that led to more than three hundred dead in car accidents, trampled underfoot in grocery stores, and suicide. The dead were rising and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to stop it—no miracle cure, just good old fashioned head trauma. Bullets were being sold like they were going out of style and the knives were stolen right off the shelves.
The first to go were the severely unprepared, those that didn't want to learn how to fight or just plain couldn't. Children and the elderly went next, the nursing home staff quickly putting a bullet in the brains of their customers and parents cradling the dead bodies of their children even as those dead
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