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because love is a lesson in trial and errorI wish I had the words to tell you what I mean. I used to store sentences between my breaths – things that I couldn’t say at the moment, but wanted to remember. Now I can barely string together enough nouns and verbs to make you understand exactly what you mean to me. And I’m afraid.

I’m afraid that if I can’t get it together fast enough I’ll lose you. It’s like you're water slipping through my fingers and I’m not quick enough to chase you through the currents. I know enough to know that you’re wild and free in a way that I’ll never be and maybe I’m jealous of that. Or maybe I

Futuro-Mamá esa chica se parece mucho a la tía Isabella -cuando escucho decir esto a Amanda, dirigiéndose a la Candace del futuro, una sola idea salta en mi cabeza haciendo eco e inevitablemente tengo que decirla en voz alta.
-Oíste eso Candace, voy a casarme con Phineas!
-O Ferb -me responde ella dejando mi mente en blanco.
Dirijo mi vista al peliverde y este me giña un ojo mientras hace un gesto con su mano señalándome. Bueno lo que dice Candace es verdad, para ser tía de Amanda tendría que casarme con Phineas o... Ferb.
Miro fijamente al chico frente a mí y de pronto todo desa

She was distant.Her emotions sat on the ceiling.

LindaI’m not what you would call a special woman - I live in a small town, with my husband, have an ordinary job and live an ordinary wife. In one way, however, I guess you could say I have an extraordinary life - because every midsummer’s day, I seem to get robbed in my own house. I don’t know what I do to deserve it, but that’s what happens.

I still remember the first year it happened - we had just moved into the house, with my daughter who was then about twelve, and she had gone to a friend’s house while my husband was out to work. I was taking the day off, doing some things around the house, and in those days

Music Shuffle (Kyrie)Cage the Elephant – “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”
The sun finally sank below the horizon. Under the cover of a moonless darkness, the proxies slipped stealthily between the trees. The densely packed forest offered excellent protection from peering eyes, and so familiar were they with the many pitfalls and snaring brambles that they glided along effortlessly.
Masky took the lead, guiding his two charges along toward the night’s goal. Hoodie followed at a short distance, his video camera fully charged and stocked with a fresh tape. Close beside him was Kyrie, bringing up the rear and making sure the

The Blood on Our HandsBut it feels so good.

To touch the open slit is pleasurable beyond belief. Of all of my fantasies, it was never conceivable that I wanted this. It was never that I felt so satisfied drenched in the afterglow of my adrenaline-bred homicide.

The swooping curdling in my veins remains beyond the last breath of him. It feels like I need more, like the blood on my hands isn't enough to slake the drought in my bones that vengeance has brought. My fingertips touch at the open gash in the left-center of his chest, swimming there with dainty strokes in the fresh, bubbling blood.

What have I done...? And why do I need more? Why does it feel like the

they marked me blue and yellow, mama.between graffitied walls and a lone, chipped sink, they watched me curl in upon myself and combust. it was the only way i knew of to stop the swirling in my hips and heels.
a week later i found emma, the smallest of the vultures, kneeling at my altar. and with her wing-bones hunching and heaving, she mimicked my combustion.
but her eyes were violet when she saw me. violet and brimming with the emptiness of her heels. and i knew. i knew that this could not hold her the way it held me.
and mama, that hurt more than anything. her heels were empty, mama. empty. empty. empty. the way mine should have been, if only you had kept papa away.
if only you had kept away the first vulture i had ever know. if only, mama. if only.

Sweet Nothings'if i could, i would devour you. i would eat you whole, consume you mind, body, and soul. because i am a selfish person. i want you all to myself. no one else may have you.' he said to her, as they lay tangled in each other.
her reply came with a sleepy smile.
'there is a part of my mind which understands the intended romance in your statement. that part is wooed by it. there is also a part which insists upon my realizing the reality, the literal. you, my dear, are a cannibal.'
he placed a kiss on her head.
'well, we'll have to work hard then, to make sure that you are only wooed. we will make you want to be eaten. we will make it so that part of your mind which is literal, is quiet, so when i whisper sweet nothings into your ears, you are completely swept away. lifted off your feet by my obvious romantic intention.'

The Cat and IA biography of myself.

Real Name: I’m not telling, but KP stands for Kev Pickering

Nickname: I refer you to the previous answer

Birthday: July 16, 1963

Current Residence: North West London, United Kingdom

Height: 5’ 8”

Weight: Trying to lose it, thank you

Hair Color: Dark brown but turning grey as it recedes.

Eye Color: Hazel

Likes: Films, musicals, fine literature, my family, and graphic novels.

Dislikes: Shellfish, Lager, “Scripted Reality” shows.

Personality: I’m very shy until someone gets to know me, but those who do tell me I can be a very kind, gentle and yet silly person.

Biog

Smoke-stacked LungsLighting her cigarette, Mara watched the smoke trail up into the sky and block the blue the storm clouds couldn’t reach. She sucked in the unfiltered ash, closed her eyes, and marveled at the warmth that traveled down into her chest. The ash held her closer than anyone in the city had. She smiled, cracking open her eyes, but all that greeted her was wind blowing out the embers of her cigarette as tar slithered down her throat. She coughed, crushing the cigarette on the dashboard. She started her black Ford’s ignition, and watched the exhaust lingering around the car before the wind carried it away. With goose bumps, Mara sped onto

The ThunderstormI picked up the new dial phone I barely used to call her father. Thunder roared as the rain completely drenched my window. I bit my lip and my heart raced as I picked up a signal. The dial rang for awhile, and I was almost a little worried I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him. However, at the last minute, I heard a deep, cheerful voice from the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hello, sir. This is Mr. Rob MacLachlan, CEO of the Fitzpatrick Company. I'm just calling to say that your daughter might have to spend the night, here."
There was a dreadful pause on the phone.
"Pardon?"
"Have you listened to the radio, recently?"
"Nah, we can't 'ford a telephon

I need you home...the ceiling's dirty.Pairing: Phan/Anti-Phan??

Genre: Angst

Rating: 12+??

Warning: Possibly triggering

Disclaimer: I do not own Dan or Phil (sadly). This never happened and is purely fictional.

Summary: Dan's lost. He doesn't know how long it's been. He needs someone to save him.

~

I don’t know how long it’s been. 3 days? 2 weeks? 5 months? I can’t remember the last time I got up from his bed. It smells just like him, vanilla and raspberries - it’s like he’s still here. But he’s not.

He left a long, long time ago. We’d been arguing for a while, I’d said - well more like shouted - some mean things, he’d

The problem with Elia is thatshe could have been a violin.

RecursionRecursion

Day 12

I hate those infernal hounds.

I can hear them approaching. I regret now that I have not walled off this little corner of the forest that I have chosen to call my own. I am tired, I am hungry, and I am weak from the venom of those spiders. I fear I have just enough time to fashion a spear before they come for me.

Wilson's hands shook as he read the words in the dying firelight. The darkness pressed in against him all around, crawling inward as the fire sputtered.

Those were the last words on the page. Dark spots marred the edges of the papyrus, dried deep into the reeds. A thick swipe of brown streaked along the bottom as

Winter-childi found her in november, wrapped in a sweater.
they wheeled her away on a cart too big for her; two days old, half-dead and blue as the ocean.
i waited, her sweater held in hands that shook and shimmied.
they brought her back to me a week later; nine days old, pink-skinned and plump.
i named her in big letters on a yellow form as she slept in the crook of my arm; mavis.

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Futility...Passion...It will flowHe stands alone, surrounded by the branches of cherry blossom trees. The blossoms keep falling, falling down on unweathered hands, falling down on his soft face, falling down on his hair like yellow silk—glistening. The last rays of the dying sun lie in his hair, glistening. His eyes are cast into the distance, and a sigh is flowing out of the cherry lips, intertwining with the evening wind... an inexistent union in the air, carrying the blooming flowers, and yet bearing no fruit. Will the breeze caress his lover's cheek, kiss her lips, do it like he could not do? A hand reaches out of his summer gown, the violet sleeve slides down to his elbow, the noble color, the mark of kings, and yet this king's fingertips stretch away from it; the fingers of the king who cannot escape his throne... for a moment, they linger in the air, trembling in the light of the dying sun, and then they fall, down, under the dominance of the silken sleeve. And the zephyr keeps on blowing, and the cherry

A Collar For A PetA black collar, of the finest leather done
To bind in golden chains the one
Who would not suffer to be bound-
The rogue, the animal, rebellious trash,
Once glowing, now beaten, returns without a sound
To his master's open arms.
His hands ungloved, waiting to caress
And force the fiery body, until it yields to his charms,
The master waits; the master waits
Patiently, in the shadows
For their long disentangled fates
To once again be entwined
By the leash of the collar that he clutches so firmly,
Waiting to receive back what he once refused to bind,
And to grant him a feeling
He should have never felt.

The Moment of Darkness: Prologue(Feeling lazy? Read the description at the bottom to see what the story is about.)
The evening breeze softly brushed through her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the sweet sensation to its fullest. Slowly moving her hips to the rhythm, she listened to the soft melody streaming along with the calming light, out of the tall French-windows. “I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you,” she murmured the final lyrics along with the singer. A thunder of many clapping hands and laughter rose.
She opened her eyes and turned to the windows to see the happy faces of elegantly dressed, slender ladies, and their handsome partners. The scene of merriment was beckoning to her with all the might it had. She quickly adjusted her tight, black dress- which was no less elegant than that of those ladies inside- and started towards the hall, but her way got blocked at the entrance.
“Here you are. I was getting anxious,” said the in

Syrena BlackwellName: Syrena Blackwell

Age: 26

Hair: Long, straight, auburn hair. She usually puts it up in a very neat ponytail.

Eyes: Violet

Height: 1.70m

Distinguishing traits: She has an extremely pale skin and likes to use red lipstick. She uses two handguns as her weapons.

Character: Syrena is usually in an aggressive mode. She might be distant to the outsiders(and not only,) but once she becomes close friends with someone, she turns out to be very nice to them- unless they anger her, of course. As an agent, she is a complete professional. She always knows what to do, and whom to talk to in order to solve the problem.

Clothes: Over-the-knee bla

LilyName: Lily

Age: 17

Species: Human
Hair: Blond, shoulder-lenght hair with wavy curls

Eyes: Ocean blue

Height: 1.64m

Character: She a sweet girl. She's often in confusion, (due to the fact that she lost her memories.) Sometimes she wears the expression of a scared puppy, but at other times she's very brave and determined.

Unusual Physical Traits: None

Clothes: Blue shirt with rolled up sleeves,
A black, short skirt.

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Submitted: June 27, 2012
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

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Between the Wires

by ~Wakagi-chan, Jun 27, 2012, 4:51:46 AM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

The grey smoke was steadily streaming out of his mouth. He stretched the wires between his palms... feeling each microfilament, as they slowly extended out of his fingertips. Ahhh... what a feeling. What could possibly feel better? Oh, yes, he knew what would feel better: Instantly, he snapped the threads apart and reached down to his right hand to unbutton the white sleeve enwrapping his wrist. He rolled up the sleeve, slowly, elegantly, carefully folding each time, until it neatly rested above his elbow. Now being free of the cotton chains, he once again spread his palms apart.

With a soft wave of his wrists, he sent a thousand strands floating up through the air to seek out and entwine with the flesh of his opponent. Oh, yes, he caught it! Quite a massive body... It's not enough to catch the hands, one should bind the whole entire trunk. So he extended the fibers and locked them in his teeth, as to not to loosen up the molecular leash. More strands flied through the air, landing on the opponent's neck- more- the legs- more- the chest- more- the face- more- the wrists- more- the fingers- more- the nails- MORE-- until every single cell of the body was caught up in the wires.

The opponent struggled to free himself, his body trembling with rage. He's strong... pretty strong... a real monster! Walter nodded. If he were a mere human, this would have been quite boring...... The filaments painfully slid along his teeth, as they got pulled by a loathsome amount force on the other side. He clenched his teeth yet even more firmly and closed his burning fists to hold down his prey. The pale skin stretched over his knuckles, whitening them out, as the filaments kept sliding down. Blood broke out on his fingers. For a moment, his pale eyes shot down to look at the crimson streamlets. A rush of ecstasy lifted his insides up, while the smiling lips spread over the sharp filaments: "Ah-ha." Thus the insane laughter was taken and delivered, in one brief, elegant breath. A movement of the head, a quick glint passing over the eye. Suddenly, he pulled. In the snap of a finger, the thousand microfilaments shot up through the air to come back to their master. He felt it through his fingertips- how every strand cut through the rough bone, ripped apart the soft flesh, and shattered the delicate organs; blood rained down on the asphalt.

The Angel of Death exhaled the grey smoke and threw down the finished cigarette- into one of the small pools of blood. Good that he had rolled up his sleeves... a bloodstain on the white shirt would be... troublesome to clean.

Between the Wiresby ~Wakagi-chan

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

Mature Content

02:27 in the morning. The first draft is complete. I'll edit it tomorrow.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
17:00 Edited it.

OK so, this is A Vignette for Walter. My fingers didn't turn to put it down as fan fiction because "I put in too much of myself Henry" (OK, I bet no one got what on earth I'm talking about here.) Shortly, I felt the vignette side of this piece very heavily. I should say that I spent a monstrous amount of time on this- why? because it was fun to write!

Oh well, you know that one moment in the Dawn where they show Walter standing and looking out of the window... That uncaring posture... i think that's what got me caught in. How old is he in this vignette? You decide, because the image kept changing in my mind, as I wrote it. You know, one moment a teenage boy, another moment a grown man... No actually somewhere in between... Have no idea! ^^'

I'm going to put a mature tag on it, (agreed on it with ~Flying-Leopard

)
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please leave some comments!

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Edit:

kindly gave me her permission to use her beautiful deviation as an illustration for this piece. If you enjoyed the picture, go and check out her page!

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Disclaimer: Walter C. Dornez (c) Kouta Hirano - !!!DOES NOT BELONG TO ME!!!