[x]

On the outside, people couldn't see how much she wanted to make herself bleed across her carpet. They couldn't see the stains of her tears on her sleeves or the mascara streaks down her cheeks when she was alone. She carved lines into her skin, marking all the times she's felt alone, depressed, anguished, wronged, or helpless and cried into the blood until they ran purple.

She was pathetic, weak, and foolish; that's why she did this to herself - she was a coward, afraid of the real world. She locked herself within her own mind from the outside and refused to slide the only key inside through the small sliver underneath the door so someone, a

The SecretKristen has a secret. She holds it in place with fine slivers of metal that clasp her hair tightly to her head, as if a wisp out of place would be it's undoing. She hides it under a gentle brush of blush across her cheek bones, as if the coral tone granted her the ability to create a new face for herself, a new body. She stuffs it up her sleeve with a freshly laundered hankerchief, knowing that every corner must be finely pressed until any flaw is smoothed away, undetectable.

At the end of each day Kristen takes off her shoes. She places them side by side, as a pair, and tucks them slightly underneath her bed so she does not trip over them i

Story Fragment with Dark and Zaen"Zaen. Zaen."
Someone was shaking Zaen's shoulder. He stirred.
"Wake up, kid. Seriously. I come home and I find you layin' on the floor like a murder victim."
"It's lying, not laying. The verb lay requires a direct object, whereas the verb lie does not..." Zaen mumbled, rubbing his eyes and squinting. Why had Dark turned on such bright lights?
"Lay, lie, whatever." Dark tugged at Zaen's hands. "Get up. It's way past your bedtime."
Zaen moaned, rolled over, and covered his eyes. The room was far too bright. Why was he on the floor again? Oh, right, he had been reading.
"Fine, lazy kid." Dark knelt and put his arms around Zaen. He was giving him a hug? Zaen didn't think Dark liked to give people hugs. Wait... his feet had just left the ground... Oh, Dark had picked him up.
"The floor," Dark continued as he walked, "is a very bad place to sleep. It's dirty, and you ain't gonna be able to sleep well there. And however long

ForesightDebra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.

Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline. Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects. No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input.

Her computer was equally immaculate. Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons. If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff.

She dressed neatly but very plainly. I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe an

In your heartIn your heart- A letter to say goodbye

When the stars flicker and the moon shine, you know I’m looking down at you, over your shoulder protecting you forever. When the sun shines and the flower blossoms, you know I’m smiling at you, dumbfounded by your beauty and your soul.
Trust me when I say “I won’t go” but still trust me when I’m dead and gone, because you know in your heart I can never leave. I won’t break promises I swear I won’t lie, if you’re losing faith just look up at the sky.
Remember the good in me and forget all my scars. Make a wish to bring me from the dust and from the ash. Sorr

Six Word Story: Hope"There's hope, you know."

"Really?"

"Really."

Bedtime StoryIt was a quaint young world in which a troupe of like-minded fellows did subsist. They found joy together in simple things, feline endeavors. Within their minds did great plumes spring, fine tufted ears and coils for caudals. They birthed their world and sat as gods upon a throne of osseous matter, led by one with a visage bright as flame.

And there they did indulge in fancy follies, games of crack which offered many an occasion in which they might giggle to themselves. But all was not well. For they did discover there the path all mortals are bound to take. For in the end are we not all but food for worms? They set to path their words in tr

*Paranormal*Aberrant red infusion colours sky, inexplicable!

InfinityDespite of being the middle of summer, it was a cold night. They always were back there. The fresh beach air provided the campsite with cool nights and hot days. We were sitting outside our tents, watching the dying embers of our campfire fade out. It was late, and the sounds of the surrounding campers were slowly dying out. The minutes went by, and less laughter was heard. The guitars and other instruments stopped and stayed silent. The sound of tent zippers opening and closing again. A hushed whisper now and then, the sound of a distant snore. Finally, when the only thing we could hear were the crickets and the sound of the nearby waves, we stood up. In complete silence we walked between tents and pine trees, avoiding the holes were the campfires had earlier stood.
We reached the beach and sat down on the sand. I looked up and saw the immensity of space spread out before my eyes. The stars, so clear now as they had never been in the city, filled me with wonder. The same wonder I

Not So AloneNot So Alone

Alone.

That was the best way to describe this hellish place. He was alone here. It was a lonely forsaken place. Nothing sane lived here. Monsters, beasts, mind-numbing impossibilities, oh this place crawled with them.

Wilson stared into his meager campfire, listening to the sounds around him. Within the inky blackness distances didn't seem to matter. The snoring beefalo he knew to be only a stone's throw away sounded farther than the croaking frogs several clicks distant. That darkness was oppressive, dangerous, and Wilson had the very real sense that if he stepped out into it, the darkness itself would be the thing to take hi

A sudden blast of windI sat in the long shadow of a broken down castle wall, seeking refuge from the burning heat of summer. However, even though I couldn’t feel the Sun on my skin, the air was even warmer there, thicker and heavier. It made me feel as if I was drowning as I took my breaths. So, I got up, shaking off the broken branches and leaves that got stuck into my hair and clothes, and stepped out into the world of the supposedly blazing Sun on the other side.

The wind was strong, and cold, a reminiscence of winter within the heat of summer. It felt good on my skin as I laughed, much better than the still air of the shadow which was supposed to protec

AbsentEven the rainbows
Are absent
Today.

100 Themes- 001Well, This Sucks.
Lu Yuen tried to move his arm, but that caused the ropes to tighten more, and slip farther down towards the raging river below. He let out a huff of frustration. "Can't you just pull me up?"
"If you wanna send both of us falling into the river, sure." He didn't have time to deal with Emi's sarcasm. His legs were numb after an hour of hanging. "I have to find another way to get you up."
The boy let out a whine, shaking a bit. "You better hurry up then. I might end up dying here of starvation before you can get me out."
The female samurai scoffed. "You won't. Don't worry."
Lu Yuen tried to look up at the girl. "I haven't eaten since last night!"
Emi frowned. "Your fault."

"I had no food!" he protested, trying to untangle himself from the rope. It ended sliding down some more, towards the sharp rocks. He made a face. He didn't want to get cut up into piec

A Twisted QuestI didn't ask for this madness. When I sold my soul to the devil, it was for glory and honor, not this. When did this happen? That thirst for greatness was like a fever. We all caught it, and by the time it passed, it was too late.

They say push on. They, who haven't seen the depravity and destruction. To go forward is suicide, to go back cowardice. Cowardice. It rolls around in my mouth, dark and heavy, like the night sky. Is it cowardice to be tired of all this bloodshed, to want to spare a few more lives?

I have lost too much. Their empty eyes haunt me in the brief moments of sleep that I snatch. Their youthful vibrancy snuffe

*Footsteps*Was i ever here? footsteps disappeared.

French translation

Avais-je jamais ici? traces ont disparu.

2013 Delice1941
19th May2013

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 686 bytes more ▶

More from ~xthe-eleanorx

I'm Just Waiting for the RainHe keeps his umbrella close, but never opened. Storm clouds roll in and out of his life, but they never stop to even wet the ground.

He wakes up every morning at 6:15, stays in bed for another five minutes, and takes a shower that lasts eight and a half minutes. He eats two slices of buttered toast and a small tumbler of orange juice. He dresses himself in a blue button-down with a striped tie and shines his shoes so that he can see his face. If it's cold out, he wears his black trench coat and if it isn't, he just wears his sport coat. He carries his briefcase every day, along with his umbrella. He can't forget his umbrella. The train leave

ImpressionableYou left impressions in her skin and they sank straight down to her heart. You always told her that she was impressionable, but she never took it quite so literally.

She was holding memories so tightly that her hands started to burn. Each day a layer of skin would char and crumble. She swept the ash off and carried on.

Sometimes when she felt lonely, she would take old blankets and wrap herself in them. They smelled like the people who used them before her. They have absorbed their dreams, their feelings, their hearts. She liked to hear other peoples' dreams because she never had one herself.

She never felt quite at home. She worried about

The Angelic AnachronismMy turn-of-the-century French Boy
An anachronism, lost on his way home.
Walks by the stone angels,
Growing out of the ground.

He spoke with the tip of his hat
And French love letters
Waiting on my doorstep
I saved them,
Unanswered, and unopened
In an old hat-box

The frivolous-French boy
Traded his pea-coat for a business suit
And his eloquence for a profit
Sometimes he still walks by the angels
And wonders if they are sprouting,
Or sinking.

The DoctorWhen I was seven, I was diagnosed with emotions.

"Poor girl." I heard them say. "She'll never survive this one."

I laid with my face towards the ceiling on the cold examination table, listening to them discuss my fate. I felt something breaking in my chest and something burning inside my throat. A small tear slipped down my cheek.

"Doctor! Look at this!" Shrieked my mother, "Something is coming out of her eye."

The doctor rushed over to me and wiped the tear from my cheek. He touched the top of my head as he whispered, "I am so sorry." And then he turned to my mother. "It's a tear. It means that she is sad."

"Sad?" My mother asked inquis

Please Don't Leave MeShe flutters her fingers over her skin, she smiles as she thinks of him. He only touched her once, and it was when she brushed up against him on the train. She smiles as she remembers the way he muttered an apology. Her heart feels light as her memories play though her mind, changing bit by bit as they pass through.

Please don't leave me.

She rides the train on Tuesday afternoons, because she ran into him once, several Tuesdays ago. She waits patiently at the station, hoping, praying that he will see him. She has the lines worked out in her head, hoping she will have the occasion to use them. She rides the bus day in, day out sitting in the

I am the WriterI am a protagonist,
An antagonist,
A minor supporting character

I am the investigator,
The liberator,
The prophetic narrator

I am your hero
Your villain,
Your forgotten sidekick

The creator,
The destroyer,
I am the writer

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: July 22, 2012
File Size: 686 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 2
Favourites: 1 [who?]
Views: 45 (0 today)
Downloads: 2 (0 today)

[x]

FFM XVIII

by ~xthe-eleanorx, Jul 22, 2012, 7:54:14 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

She thinks about her children and smiles.

Today, her boys Jack and Christopher have gone an "adventure" in the tree-grove behind their house.

They were pirates today, using long, wrapping-paper tubes as swords which doubled as telescopes. The two were running around, chasing each other through the trees as the day's air slowly turned to night and the sky grew pink, then orange, then black.

She hasn't yet called them inside for dinner. She's not quite ready.

She puts down her pen and rubs her eyes and she knows only one of them will come inside.

FFM XVIIIby ~xthe-eleanorx

Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Eff-yeah metafiction.

~SawadaTakari Nov 17, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Your simple yet striking writing style gives an innocent and poetic charm to your story, i love it

! Only, I'm slightly confused about the last sentence...

~xthe-eleanorx Nov 18, 2012 Student Writer

Well, it's a little bit of metafiction, and the woman is referring to these characters that she has created. She is rather attached to them (like children) and is planning to kill one off.

More from ~xthe-eleanorx

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

FFM XVIII

FFM XVIIIby ~xthe-eleanorx

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style