Promise“The sun is out today,” said Henry, sitting on the edge of his chair, his back as straight as a rod, and adjusting his napkin until it was perpendicular to the edge of the table.Promise by Delta-13
His young son, Eric, nodded his head while staring out the bay window. The city outside seemed lethargic compared to the hustle and bustle that went on in the restaurant. Outside a lone horse drawn carriage ambled by while the occasional business man in top hat or finely dressed lady walked towards the market on the shore. From their seats, they could just see the tips of the sails and the seagulls floating overhead.
Eric shook his head. Oh, yes, this was an enlightening conversation. Why, oh, why had Mira sent him out with Eric? If she was so worried about the young boy, why wasn’t she sitting here having a natural conversation with him? Henry was convinced she would have been able to pry more out of him than a simple head nod.
“He respects you,” she whis
Literature Ruins LivesGreg, and Keith are in a Starbucks, sitting at a table in the corner, waiting for Doug. Doug is waiting at the counter for his coffee. Greg is looking at his phoneLiterature Ruins Lives by Delta-13
“Raven finished her book. She’s devastated.
You’re going to have to pick up a lot of horror movies
This man is ruining my life.
David Mitchell. I swear if I ever meet
him, I’m going to punch him.
Because every time Raven finishes one of his books
she’s devastated. Scary mascara runnind down her cheeks,
Eating whole tubs of ice cream at 3:00 in the morning. It’s terrible.
It’s usual for kids to get attached to characters.
Give it a few days and she’ll be fine
No, you don’t understand. It’s like she’s just
broken up with her boyfriend. This is going to be
a six month period of mourning and then it’s be a six
month period where sh
Team FrankGreg is driving while Matt, Thomas, and Scarlet sit in the back of the car. Matt and Thomas are wearing muted colors while Scarlet is wearing bright yellows and reds. Raven, wearing all black and holding a black ski mask is sitting in the front seat.Team Frank by Delta-13
Raven, where did you find that mask?
An old Halloween costume
Were you an ax murderer?
If I said no, would you believe me?
R-R-Raven, ya do r-r-realize that ya c-c-can’t
go out with the mask on, r-r-rat?
Matt stares at him.
What he said
We have to hide your identities. What if someone sees us?
We’re not super heroes, Raven.
Now, now, Raven has a point. I don’t want the cops
seeing my face.
Listen, if the cops show, I’m leaving your asses.
You won’t abandon your teammates!
Yeah, we’re team Frank!
Well, I’m team Greg and t
Bad Hair DayBad Hair DayBad Hair Day by Delta-13
“Eric, would you get down from that tree!?” shouted Mira, from the kitchen window, “You’re going to break your neck!”
“I need to get my teddy bear!”
She jumped as someone upstairs screamed.
“Oh, for the love of God,” she snapped, throwing her napkin on the counter, “Eric get down from that tree!”
Cursing under her breath, she ran up the stairs, James curiously sticking his head out of the living room, and kicked the bathroom door down.
“What, what is it?” she shouted, bringing her hands to her mouth as her eyes fell on her son, “Mercury! What did you do?!”
“I didn’t do this?!” he said, pointing at his head, “What the heck would I do this to myself?!”
Mercury, a short and impish boy with bright green eyes, was missing most of his hair. The right three quarters of his head was completely bald, with only a tuff of red hair the size of Mi
RECIPROCITYGood is born from acts of evil.RECIPROCITY by JeffreyRebowlski
Evil is born from acts of good.
Negative consequences follow good
and positive repercussions after evil.
Lights grow dark and night turns into day.
Should we do evil to encourage good?
Or avoid doing good to discourage evil?
From good comes action.
From evil comes stagnation.
Stagnation leads to comfort
and that leads to indifference.
Fear promotes action and
action compels reaction.
Reaction leads to loss,
and loss promotes anxiety.
Anxiety leads back to fear and
the cycle continues again and again.
BFD, RUM #4, On the docksLuckily, there was an extra tire it helped them get back on the roadBFD, RUM #4, On the docks by JeffreyRebowlski
“Narrators interpret the past as a story,” explained Tim "Stories are composed of images made up by the Authors."
Greg leaned in from the backseat “You are a Narrator, right?”
Tim corrected “I’m retired, I’m sort of here to act as a Narrator under cover, so I can steer the story in the right direction.”
“You two, are from…” Greg looked to Martin and Snigiliput "What, some alternate dimension?"
“No-thats crazy, when people hear stuff like this they think of something like those Sex-craft stories.”
“Lovecraft, dude,” Snigiliput corrected “Sex-craft is a low budget porno.”
“Ohhh, remind me to get the tape,” Greg said with a peculiar drunken salute.
“I’m surprised you’re taking this all so well,” said Martin “Usually people freak out.”
Hi, I’m Sam, also known as Ham, and I’m a recent escapee from the Virginia Military Institute (VMI). I am a goof who pretends to be driven and organized. Currently, my sister, , and I are working on seven major projects:|
1. The first project is my fifteen book science fantasy series: Nothing but Glory:
“Everyone has a reason to die. It is history that determines if it was worth dying for.”-Kingsley Montivelo.
My series follows thirteen leaders as they rise to power, how they handle a world war that is catastrophic in scope, and watches as some are overtaken by their sins-both intentional and unintentional-and some rise to lead a stronger, but dying world into an uncertain future. The first nine book are ‘regional’ books (they focus on each region of my world) while the next six are the about the war itself. Think of my series like the Avengers movies. The first nine books establish my characters (like Marvel phase one) and the next six books are one huge Avengers movie.
2. My second project is a companion book to the Nothing but Glory series: For the Next Killer Who Dies: Selected memories of a Revolutionary::
Killers never forget, they never forgive, and they never apologize, but sometimes they explain.
This is Kingsley Montivelo's memoir on his time as a member of the terroirist organization known as the Killer Liberation Army (KLA). Kingsley is one of the four leaders who are responsible for the war that my series, Nothing but Glory, is about and this book is his attempt to set the record straight. It starts with the moment he decides to join the KLA and ends with a fateful visit that sets the stage for the series itself.
3. My third project is a collection of short stories that relate to my series: the Backroads of Terra. It has been published on Kindle and contains illustrations drawn by my sister . It can found here: [link]
4. My fourth project is Heroes: a dystopian novel about Singularity gone wrong.
“We offer you Peace, Security, and Prosperity. We ask for your Privacy and your Obedience.”-Turing
Heroes is a world where there is no death, no war, no disease, and no crime. It is a perfect world as long as everyone follows the rules and does not mind being observed by the four guardians at all times. There is a small movement known as the Time Keepers who are desperately fighting the Guardians and bringing freedom back to the world.
5. My fifth project is Stairway to Heaven and is about a former druggie and asshole who decides to help struggling teens because he needs community service hours.
6. My sixth project is The Undesirables and it is about our modern world merging with the mystical world. Angels now rule planet earth and humans share their cities with all kinds of monsters. Archangel Michael creates a team of losers, damned, and assholes to combat evil with evil. Oh and Cthulhu is involved somehow. That’s all I got so far.
7. My seventh and final project is Dangerously Delusional. It is a comic about super heroes and super villains who have no idea what the hell they’re doing.
Nothing but Glory Website: skamenn.wordpress.com/
My pinterest: www.pinterest.com/pepperdaphoe…
My Tumblr: pepperthephoenix.tumblr.com/
My sister introduced me to stamps:
Wargods - The Prophecy- Hello? Anybody there?
Ain was alone, in a dark place. He could see nothing at all. But he felt that wherever he was, he is safe. A brief moment later, light came out of nowhere, and now Ain could at least see himself. But he was different. His ordinary clothes were nowhere, he wore something different. A leather-like material beautifully made, the clothes fit him perfectly. Boots, leather trousers, leather chest armor, sleeveless, and a pair of gloves too. All were emitting a faint white aura around them, like the armor's color. Whatever it was made out of, he could feel magic flowing through it, into his body and soul. Or was it the other way around? Was he the one who enchanted his clothes? He didn't know. But as he was about ask what he was wearing, his surroundings changed. He was somewhere unknown, yet familiar. The buildings were shaped and looked like nothing Ain has ever seen before. It was like he was watching a science fiction movie up close. Tall buildings, some were even
Old BeliefsHe looks about his home in the Underworld. Anubis exhales then smiles slightly as he catches a photograph of him, and some of the other Underworld gods at one of the world gods meetings. Hades looked so unamused about something. He was sure it was something to do with how power was getting settled around the gods.
Anubis smirks a bit as he picked up his coat. He was dressed in the modern way. Jeans, shirt, boots and his favorite leather jacket. He could not change his face; he would always look like a jackal. He looks about himself again before taking himself to where he was thinking of going.
He was going to the city to mingle amoung the people. They had no clue. They did not know that no matter what god they followed that Anubis still got to make sure their heart was weighed and he took the good souls to the heavens.
Anubis walks the streets of the modern city of Cairo. People walk though him. He knows they cannot see him. He searches for those that still believe. Not that thes
a time to rise, and a time to fallI have never asked her what it is that she misses so much. Whatever it is, it turns her eyes blue mid-winter and chases the heat from her cheeks. The truth is, I never thought it was my place to ask: after all, I'm nothing but a stranger in her quiet heart. And even now, years after we first met, I do not ask her.
She stretches one morning, all smooth edges and warm spaces. She looks at me as she always does before she tumbles out of bed, and her eyes are blue. Again. The weeks melt away and I am staring at six years worth of winters, all rolled into one. It chills me and my teeth chatter. She doesn't say anything but I know that she has caught me looking, has inhaled my shiver and tasted old winters in it instead of fresh laid snow. There is no fooling her, there has never been any chance of that: she always knows.
I give up all hope of further sleep and step out of bed and onto rich, plush carpet. It is a violent hue, bu
6 things I know about my grandfatheri.
My grandfather was one of nine children, all identical in black and white photographs. Each had a crop of dark hair, slightly crooked smiles and as a child I thought they had black eyes too. The shades, the pigments, were lost in translation and even still I picture him with ink-drop irises, faded sepia skin.
He, like his brothers, joined the navy. They left behind their youngest brother Ronnie on the shore waving in time with his murmured, off-beat heart, stretching the hole in his chest 8,000 miles wide. The Atlantic embraced them, called each in different directions as the waves rolled on endlessly. Their boats drifted from safe bays and my grandfather fixed his sight starboard, back towards London as the masts of his brothers’ vessels faded over the horizon.
My grandfather was in charge of saving anyone who fell overboard, and was for a time a deep sea diver. But he couldn’t swim, was scared of the bottomless depths aching beneath the deck. He lied on his forms,
QMM/MM (Oh F*cK)Issac Newton and Schrodinger's cat
announced that they were expecting.
I'm not sure if I can approve
of this way of life they're directing.
Does the apple come down or go sideways?
My life is becoming a wreck!
If I jump from on top of a building
will float or just break my neck?
The Beast in the CaveWhat was once left, has become my right
and that which was right has been replaced
by solid stone.
And my plight echoing
in the darkness.
To my terrible conclusion, I am completely lost.
No mere metaphor unfortunately, but in actuality
in the depths of a cave.
Nevermore to see the sun.
Hope lost to the darkness encroaching,
surely my demise approaching.
Why oh why did I forsake the footsteps
of my companions?
I should applaud myself for losing them
so brilliantly, like the very light I seek.
No one to blame in the dark but myself,
my thoughts bound to me, suffocating.
My flashlight has expired,
but not my desire to survive
found in each unsure footstep treading
just so, so as not to the earth let go.
Freefall into the abyss, the way I’m spiraling
into my own mind.
To save my thoughts I focus on what once was,
the remains of a village history forgot in these caverns.
The people who dwelled here now only a memory
of the cave itself.
More victims swallowed up by time
Mishaps - CHAPTER ONE: WHEN IT RAINS...
It was a drizzly day, the day Thomas Hurst and Rebecca Cunningham got married, and even more so the day they got back from their weekend honeymoon at a bed and breakfast in the country. They were sitting at Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham’s kitchen table, while rain huddled under the eaves of the old house and fell in large drops, tapping against the windowpanes before racing the rest of the way along the glass. It had been a thoroughly wet week: a fact that they had put down to their combined unluckiness, and one that had not gone unnoticed.
“Oh you poor dears, gone all that way for naught. Spent the weekend cooped up in your room, I expect?” Mrs. Cunningham was bustling around the sink, filling the kettle with water.
Tom cleared his throat. “Well, actually, it was kind of lovely, even if it was miserable weather—”
“Jesse! Can you get some tea from the pantry?”
Bec’s parents always surprised Tom. He was used to actually having the chance t
Does peace require sacrifice?Does peace require sacrifices?
Is war secretly a blood ritual?
Are our sovereigns sorcerers?
Are casualties intentional offerings?
If spilling blood is not necessary,
what is needed to summon peace?
What have we been doing for centuries?
The Interest of a DragonThe Interest of a Dragon
This letter will serve as possibly the only testament to the true tale of the events that took place on Jekyll Island in 1910. While I dare not reveal myself it is common knowledge as to all those in attendance at the creation of the banking system that would one day become the Federal Reserve. Age has finally caught up with me and the pleasure and desires of this world are long had, I now see what lies ahead of me and it is not joyful. Having held this in secret so long I can no longer bear its pressure on my soul, a soul that is certainly bound for a terrible fate. The strangeness of what was witnessed on Jekyll Island will simply be rejected as fiction, but it is shamefully and terribly true.
We left at dark on a private train; I can barely remember the trip at all. Everyone there was the rational sort of men that didn&
Not Like In Books"Come with us, they say. We have the golden ticket. All you must do is look how we look, and speak as we speak. Think our thoughts, act our acts. Drink our hate and eat of our malice. We’ll dress you in the best clothes and you’ll dance with our righteous fervor. Don’t ever ask questions, and above all, obey. No conscience, no truth except that which we give you. Maybe, just maybe, that golden ticket can be yours."
She gaped for a moment, twisting the words around in her head. “Don’t you think you’re a trifle bitter? You make it sound so…calculating. So jail-like. Cultish even. I imagine horns propping a tarnished halo backlit by the very flames of Hell.”
A pause. A sigh.
"Where obligation and loss of self replace unconditional love, where you are constrained from true feeling by the bonds of so-called righteousness, where you sacrifice true belief and respect for humanity to win some cosmic prize through blind obsession…that smacks
That’s all you are
But never a picture
A million sensations
But a lie is still a lie
Face and form
Heart and soul
You’re in my dreams
You are my dreams
But I desire in vain
I drown in eyes that don’t see
I scream for ears that don’t hear
You are my mirage
You float away
Sight is an honor
But I failed that test
My sins wrap around
My crimes cloak
You’re shrouded in misted shadows
I bleed for you
A cut for a glimpse
I pay with my life
But crimson isn’t gold
I burn for you
A blister for a glance
I char my soul
But ashes aren’t diamonds
Tears don’t wash
You don’t come clean
Unwashed and Unworthy
I wound myself
I try to pay
I gave in to the dark
But the marks were already there
Sketching pictures of my debauchery
You see them all
And you run
Love is my price
Forfeit for eternity
Sound and SilenceThe fighting was what put him to sleep. Eyes squeezed shut, he would lie in his bed and listen to the voices, raging on and on about things he didn't understand. It was their fire, their energy, that helped him remember the monsters under his bed weren't real. It helped him remember that as long as they were fighting, he was still with them.
He would dig his toes into the slightly scratchy blanket he always snuck under his normal one when Mom had kissed him good night. The memories were an itch under his scalp, just as the blanket was. Both helped him to never lose concentration, to always listen to the infuriated voices and remember that he was still alive and that the Bad Place was gone.
Sis had always been kind to him, pulled the blanket up to his nose and secretly left his light on, back at the Bad Place. He couldn't believe his luck when he was allowed to stay with her. Just the three of them against the rest of the world: Sis and Mom and Tiny.
Eventually, he would fall asleep, on
The GraveIf ever I should pass away
and shed this mortal coil
May I be so lucky to rest in
such a charming patch of soil
Behind rocksThey stood there,
Behind the rocks
Post-ViteAs I grow older my body withers, and with my body so goes my worth.
Life is a battleground, and like brave solders I've come to terms
that I am already dead. Most respect the dead like I cherish those yet to be born,
the pre-generation. What they do in life hasn't happened and the possibilities are endless,
unlike when your older, where your path gradually becomes set. At some point in the first
ten years of everyone's life we discover death, the next ten years we come to terms we will die.
Death is the final state of living matter. It means immobility, non-existence, the definition of meaninglessness.
The bomb and the fuse.Words and actions, there's an attraction between the two.
We are the bomb and they are the fuse.
TFQS ACT II, RUMINATION #6,
“Is this the place?” said Atomic dropping Rex “Look at all the black stuff.”
“Its smoke, that’s what generally comes out of a chimney,
A Way To DieI’m gonna be the most famous guy
If I could just get to the other side
I’ve got to run; I’ve got my BB gun
This is not a way to live; it’s a way to die.
I hope cop does not run me over,
As I drag the money bag along for the ride,
I’m no good at duck and cover,
If they show up I’ll have no place to hide.
This is no way to live; it’s a way to die.
Time to say goodbye (song parody)A sound I know comes from below, I must be hungry
In the kitchen I see pepperoni
I assume I’m alone I take a quick glance around,
see no one there. Stay calm, Only me-its only me.
So, for my breakfast
most of my time consists of
searching for ketchup and cheese,
Kumin, then tomato, I check if its okay,
on the counter theres some mozzarella
I prepare my dinner roll!
nothing compares to you!
Your beauty is to much for me!
I must confess your loveliness!
No, no, no one will ever steal you!
On the stairs, I hear my bro!
A sound I know comes from below, he must be hungry
In the kitchen he see's pepperoni
dude, its my roll, I made it for me, for me
I made the role only for me, for me, for me, for me!
I won't share my dinner roll
salami, havarti, a little salt
No, don't you assume I made it for you!
Theres only enough for me
I won't share my dinner roll!
Can't you see it not fair at all,
No, no, don't insist that I share with you!
I won't share my dinner roll