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It was late evening, nearly dusk, when the guards noticed a tall man scrambling frantically up the road towards the city. He fell several times in his haste, and each time it took him a little longer to regain his feet. The man was obviously fatigued, and he was injured, perhaps severely, but fear was evident above all. As he climbed to his feet and resumed his ungainly sprint toward the city, one of the guardsmen cried out. "It's the priest! Open the gates! it's old man Caleb!"
The Constable, hearing the guards' cry, immediately dropped what he was doing and hurried down the steps to meet his old friend. The gates were open by the time he rounded the last corner, and two guards were helping the battered old priest walk.
The sun was nearly set, but there was still enough light to see the wounds on the old mans arms and face, and the blood on his shredded vestments. In spite of his condition, the old priest refused medical attention, insisting upon talking to the constable a
“Beautiful,” the village priest muttered, “but the sun's beauty will extinguish that come morning.” He rose and turned toward the constable, “Chain her here, double the guard, and be sure no-one touches her.” She looked at him and spat, “I will eat your still beating heart from your chest, holy man. Your children will be my spawn and your wife will know true horror!” The priest smiled at her, “I am unmarried, demon whore, and you will die at dawn.” She spat curses as he walked away, but it seemed to me her fight was fading. My heart broke a little.
I've been looking for her for over a decade. I've taken many forms and ended many lives in my search. Moving on is necessary, and easy. Then again, integrating myself into a society comes much easier to me than most. Here, I am Dalgud Horscht, the trusted and well respected captain of the guard, I am the eldest son of one of our fine communities founding families,
Blessing from the lostMay you find solace
some bit of armor to gird your mind
May you find a path to wholeness and health
escape the demons that chew at your reality
at your sanity
at your life
May you find love
to guide you through dark times
May you find life that overflows from your cup
quenches your soul
and heals your pain
May you find all this and more
for I have not
or can not
or will not
May you show others the way
through this jungle of lies and confusion
and achieve greatness
not in your eyes
nor for the eyes of man
May you find the strength to accept the burden of this blessing
to open your eyes
rise above your nature
and inspire others to do the same
May you build peace
not quite the dreamless sleep of death
haunted memories deny me that peace
once I belonged here
now somewhere between
sleep with open eyes
dream in darkness
live in something less than death
Nightmaretell me love
that nightmare conjured terror
cold void darkness that sent your screams into the night
horror that suffocated your sanity
did you suspect?
so vivid this shade that crept
so bitterly malign in intent
one feral glance cuts into your soul and you realize
that it will destroy me
an eternity later
half awake and crazed with horror
eyes staring blindly into the night
your screams split the night
waking me from fitful sleep
I held you until you cries faded
comforted you till fear lost its hold
you recount the dream
even as it evaporates from your waking mind
anesthetized by reason and compassion
you drift with me back into slumber
this morning I cannot help but wonder if you recall any of it
if that even matters
though I'll never speak of it I can't help but think
your nightmare holds truth
that your demon might be real
it has sought my destruction throughout my memory
and it sees my face in the mirror
Duir 'the heretic' Tarnuth: last of the council of five
The demon stood, Ka'uial-Tahkk in all his wicked glory, wiping blood and flesh from its mouth with the back of its hand; remnants of the last of the robed mans’ companions. The priest, after painfully drawing himself free from a terrifying paralysis, stepped through the portal. Out of breath from fighting the wicked magic that had held him, and leaning heavily on his staff, he stepped forward to face the beast.
“Forget the past, preacher man.” the creature gloated. “It is all but lost to you now. The future is certain only in that you will not suffer its passing. You have only now, a decision, and death. How you choose to meet your end is at issue. Are you the sniveling coward I know you to be? Go off and die peacefully insignificant worm. Find yourself a quiet hole to hide in. Disgrace yourself in the eyes of your empty little god, as if that ma
PineapplewordsUNBELIEVABLE RESULTS FROM MEDICAL STUDY: PINEAPPLE CAUSES BRAIN CANCER
In a recent study by the *CDC of transgendered crack and heroine addicts with brain tumors it was found that all of them had, at one time or another, eaten canned or fresh pineapple. It was further discovered that those with multiple or larger tumors had often eaten more pineapple, or had eaten pineapple more often, than most of those patients with less severe symptoms. After intense and careful study of these results, it was determined that canned pineapple was more detrimental to cerebral health than was fresh.
The chairman of the *CDC was quoted as saying: "I never really ever liked pineapple, now I know precisely why." He also said: "Damn pixies keep peeing in the water cooler. How do they expect me to build the funnel cone for their winter retreat with all this pixie piss in my system?" And "Carve the next Thursday from summer brunch feet."
Colda lifetime ago I was that young man
convinced my immature evil was what it posed to be
an older woman showed me new levels of pleasure
and finally, loss.
now she is old and broken
her beauty faded and corrupted
her heart cold and lost
I saw her, or thought I did, the other day
and felt nothing
people are less than what they mean to be
The inevitable result
traveling along their own path
doing all that seems right
in their own
and then more often than not
validated by empty gods
less than what they mean to be
we are an ignorant lot
A Nail In My HeartIn my heart
There's a nail
Outside its core,
In my hand
There's a hammer
Leaving me a choice
To pull the nail free
Or leave it to rest
In the center of my soul.
And this nail
However deeply it stabs
Or loosely it traps
The litter of dreams
And hopes I've trapped inside,
Gathering them together
To be displayed like
A dying tribute
To a once loved species,
A once treasured creation,
Decides my fate
And traps my destiny.
And though I know the nail
Needs to be removed
To release my heart
Of its futile struggle
To hold a collection
Of dying memories,
Every time I feel the nail loosen
As I've grown to older,
Every time I grab that hammer
And smash it against
That obvious futilit
apollo, i am not for salestitch a pitch perfect sonnet of
into the infinity
of my ear canal. i
have a storm inside
me but no beaufort
scale, oh how i beg
to be impaled
with less appreciation
conviction; i am no
land and you
are a bulimic seeking
from the twenty one guns
at my unseen funeral.
only hope and Hecuba. feast
on my peace with me.
on my sermons
of affection, the ones
branded into my
chest with the sizzle
of experience. feast on my
numbness and this
raffleticket roll you received
and second-third-seventieth thoughts,
of exhuming my heart
and taping it back
into my spine.
(perhaps with a softer
tenant inside, from
each of my vertebrae
will come a spine that will not -
cannot - break)
feast on this hidden
feast on my will to
take all the things
you can only
you must give
back to me
of my civil war;
and mine. perhaps
someday you may
I'm having a bad day, I'm having a bad few years
inside I'm shouting loud but no one hears
I'm dying to tell you - can't you see
that all this anger is killing me
but it's a waste of breath
I give in - pain is all I have left
driven by revenge I want nothing but death
in life makes me think you are like the rest
my heart is bleeding in my chest
And no one notices in my case
so I pull away to a quiet place
'cause I'm tired of looking alright
I'm tired of smiling and saying I'm fine
Will you stand by my side?
with who are you allied?
'cause I wanna heal and be myself
I don't wanna feel like someone else
But I'm slowly fading
consumed by emotions - they've taken
the best of me, and happiness has forsaken
my dreams, my heart
it's taken my spark
cold and dark
trying to leave behind the past
I'm searching for an end
I hold out my hands - I'm not going to pretend
that life is easy
I'm hurting every day believe me!
MeanI used to live a normal, happy life.
I used to go outside almost all the time.
Until one day…
“He” showed up.
His name is Randal.
A lot of people spread rumours about him.
Some say that he came from the depths of Hell.
Others say that he’s the son of Satan himself.
At first I thought that was a bunch of trash.
But I quickly learned that those rumours might have been true.
For the first 3 weeks, he punished me for every little error he thought I did.
After the 3 weeks were over, I asked him a simple question:
“Why are you so mean?
What have I ever done to deserve such a fate as this?”
He only smiled and laughed at me.
He was never the big talker.
He always let his fists and feet do the talking for him.
Why do you have to be this way?
Is it something that I did?
Was it the way that I drank my water?
Or was it the angle that I flicked my clothes out at?
Those people were right about you.
You truly ARE the son of Satan.
Passage of the Years Dear Titanic, beautiful sister of mine,
I can barely believe it. Today marks the one-hundred and second year you have been the unwilling patron of the sandy sea-floor. One-hundred and two years.... What is it like? It must be so very dark. So very cold. So very lonely... I cannot even imagine how lonely you are. There is no one to keep you company. No one except the 1,500 souls that died with you, that is. Do you still hear their voices echoing within your halls? Do you still hear the disconnected laughter that only spirits of the dead can provide? What is it like? You are falling apart more and more. The sickle of time is having her way
Oh the things I wishStress
Run away to Neverland I must
Free from horror
Free from hell
Free from the devils
Oh the things I wish
A throne of my own
Peaceful music played in the air
Live like a king
Just for the day
There's A Knock On The Front DoorI heard a knock on the front door,
and I thought it was my soldier,
but it was only a letter
that didn't have a sender;
just an handwritten letter
left by my front door.
There comes a moment in life
where the glass ceiling crumbles and cracks
under the weight of a summer storm,
where the beauty of the world
fades to black and white and gray
as you stare off into the distance
too numb to think
and too shocked to question why.
When everything boils down to a moment -
when your past and your future
collide with each other
and obliterate the present,
when the things you had taken for granted
and you're just left with an empty shell,
a blank easel with no paper to draw on,
while paint is being thrown left and right
but you're untouchable,
just you, pure and white,
yet blacker than the ash you walk on,
the remnants of the explosion
that broke your heart and soul and mind.
That is the feeling
when there's a knock on the front door
and you think that it is your
I AmI am a square peg, in a world of only round holes.
I am out of place everywhere, at home nowhere.
I am a white rose growing on a bush of pink.
I am the fear everyone feels in the dark.
I am quartz among glass, yet glass among diamonds.
I am an empty bottle of ink to a new quill.
I am a penny, forgotten on the street, walked over.
I am a king to no people, a god to a non-believer.
I am fire to a flood, a single match to an iceberg.
I am the best I can be, but zero times anything is still zero.
I am that, and never more.
A Perfect WorldDescribe a perfect world?
Perfect - make something completely free from faults or defects,
Otherwise known as ideal, ultimate, flawless.
No matter how perfect the world may seem it will never be flawless.
There will always be hurt and heartache in the world,
And that’s okay with me.
Without corruption we would not be able to handle ourselves when something catastrophic happens.
We would not be the people we are today.
We can try to hide all the horrible things wrong with the world,
But that does not mean that by forgetting these things mean it never happened.
So why describe a perfect world when we should describe an acceptable world.
A world that can be tolerable.
That’s the type of world I would like to live in.
A world without senseless murder and war.
A world where everyone can be free to be themselves.
A world where we are treated the same,
No matter gender, race, or sexual orientation.
A world where we are equal.
A world where we are one.
UntitledLife is a graveyard
silent and still
nobody knows you
and nobody will
The days slip away
filled with regret
a meager existence
paid for with sweat
Bleeding out your life
racked with pain
they live to control you
to drive you insane
Your mind is diseased
twisted with strife
dieing to live
this graveyard called life.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More