She's Gone He just sat there.
And he waited.
One, two, three, four, and then five days went by, and he hardly moved. Every day I took a walk, every day I saw him, and every day he sat on an old crooked wooden bench, a bottle of booze in hand and a gloomy expression crossed his face.
The bench sat across my house, and most of the time when I peered out the blinds of my windows he was still there. Every once in a while he'd leave, which told me he was actually alive, but for the most part, he stayed planted on that unstable bench, and I'm pretty sure that the bottle of booze he held didn't actually have any booze in it.
Every time I looked at him, my mind was plagued with the question:
Who are you?
For some reason, I felt drawn to talk to him he was interesting. Tan, tall, slim yet muscular with a moderate amount of freckles, he had light brown hair that was slightly messy and fell over his forehead. He even had facial hair, well scruff, he obviously hadn't shaved in days, an
OC Interview - JaxithMe: Hi everyone! Ali here on your favorite show, 'OC Interview'! Today I have with me Mr. Allen from the new novel, 'The Assassin's Selection'. So, how are you, Mr. Allen?
Jaxith: Fine, thanks love. If you want you can call me Jaxith. I mean Mr. Allen works I guess but it makes me sound old.
Me: Well you're certainly not old, so Jaxith it is! Alright, Jaxith, let's jump right into the interview. How old are you?
Jaxith: *turns head as if looking for something* Are we on TV or something?
Me: *smiles* No, no, no. You're just on an assignment for my class. Anyways, back to the question age please?
Jaxith: Well I'll be twenty in November, actually. I'm not really looking forward to it, but I guess you can't stop time, can you?
Me: *shrug* I suppose not. But for all the people out there who can't see you why don't you share with them your appearance?
Jaxith: Are you sure we're not on TV? I just have this feeling
Me: No, no one is watching you. They may be reading you, but
Going and GoneWhat's going on...? Mira thought with her brows furrowed, holding onto a hot cup of something unidentified. The substance inside of the mug was a strange sparkly liquid, which she didn't trust What if it turned her into some kind of weird creature? Something much like the creatures sitting in front of her.
Fahron, the so-called Angel. He didn't really look like he fell from heaven sad blue eyes, dark unbelievably messy hair, and a black, bland, outfit. Aren't angels supposed to be pale, with white hair and white wings? Aren't they supposed to beautiful ? God's creation, right?
Mira wasn't sure where God came into any of this. Nothing was right.
Then there was Fahron's friend Mira had no words for him. His name was Ver and he was even stranger than the angel. He had hair all over his small body, yellow hair not blonde hair. Yellow. It was fur, more of, and his clothes were layers and layers of baggy pants and shirts. Where Mira
What is Writing?Writing.
What is writing? To be perfectly honest here, I'm pretty sure there isn't, and never will be, a correct definition for this word. For some, writing is breathtaking and stupendous, for others it can be horrifying, blood curdling, well, at least to an extent. For me? I like to think of it as expression, as you, as me, as a manipulation as everything.
'Why?' You probably ask inquisitively, with a fair amount of confusion on your face.
Well child, I'll tell you why.
Writing it's my passion. No doubt about it. If I'm sorrowful, I write. If I'm furious, I write. And yes, you guessed it. If I'm as jubilant as a child licking an ice cream cone I write. Those feelings, sorrow, furiousness, jubilance, they all show through my writing. You can tell by the words I use, the things I force my character to do, the scenes I create. In fact, I find it quite funny when I look at all the characters I've ever made. Every single character is some type of variation of me. Everythi
Moist.For deviantART's 12th birthday, the staff decided to throw a moist surprise party for Fella. They gathered at Fella's favorite restaurant, The Fancy Albino Monkey, with presents in hand. Llama brought Fella to the door and once they stepped in, all of the staff screamed, "Crickets!" Fella was so shocked that he instantly kissed me. He opened his presents to find that Llama had given him 12 farts. He was amazed! He would never forget that night.
The Best Spitter in World HistoryOnce upon a time, there was a young boy named Jimbo who always dreamed of becoming the world's best Spitter. He trained every day for 603949 hours in order to beat his rival, The Goopy Menace. The day of the big competition arrived, and Jimbo came armed with a sheet and his unstoppable determination. They were pitted against each other in a battle of wits, and Jimbo emerged as the sniff victor! His achievement is celebrated every Chanukah.
Casey's InspirationA young woman named Casey loved making art, and practiced Sketching all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical Books, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic New York, and a portrait of Josh Hutcherson that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby Chocolate for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in Sketching to create the most beautiful deviation depicting cellphones flopping anyone had ever seen. That night, she shouted out the window, "Thanks, Chocolate!"
Glyph and Kyrie Part 7"I have a feeling your parents would want you home for dinner."
I shrugged, gazing at a brownie in my hand curiously. "Eh. I don't think so. Probably tired of me anyways. But you know, what the hell? It's not like I really have the room for anything over there anyways. By the way, remind me why you made brownies?"
"A thank you."
"Um Ky, what could you possibly be thanking me for ?"
"For being my friend I guess."
I raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Ky you're too nice. We've known each other since five years old. Definitely not necessary, even though these are really good. My parents don't let me eat sweets anymore."
"I dunno. They think I'll get fat or something. I guess. They don't think it's good or something. If I get fat or ugly, that reflects on them. Which reminds me. You're right, I should be going. Gotta go run a few miles, just in case I gain weight from all of these brownies."
"Right. I was going to say you run every day