The Innocent Blood [The Novelists Contest Entry] by picnokinesis, literature
Literature
The Innocent Blood [The Novelists Contest Entry]
In an instant there is darkness, deeper than he's ever known. The unseen currents tug at his attention as his eyes desperately try to form shapes in the nihilism. His brain, abruptly starved of light, begins to forge delusions. Is there something there? He can't tell, he can't see anything, but he will not be caught unawares and so he pulls his dagger from it's sheath. The weight of the weapon in his hand gives a little comfort to his wildly beating heart. At least if there is some kind of beast here with him, he will not go down without a fight.
It's then that the darkness begins it's silent retreat. His eyes squint and adjust as genuine, t
Wolf Who Sits the Throne : Dogs,Foxes and Wolves by WeaselWomanCreations, literature
Literature
Wolf Who Sits the Throne : Dogs,Foxes and Wolves
Grinding…
Grinding…
Agonizing grinding…
Roska felt the warm shards twisted from her mouth. The metallic taste of blood flooded into the new hole, but it did nothing for the pain. The throbbing pain behind her head added to it, while also keeping her mind dull and foggy. She didn’t know who was ripping her molars out, specifically that was, but she knew damn well who was behind it all. He was also behind whoever had her clubbed behind the head. It always came down to him. The blood in her mouth boiled and her emerald eyes flicked open. It was a scrawny sort of man she did happen to recognize. He was s
A little more than a mile laid between the small town of Hale and the Key’s Light subdivision in the forests of northern Georgia. The homes there were elegant and new, with clean-cut green lawns, colorful flower gardens, smooth black streets, and quaint lampposts that shone to life every night. It was a small sliver of modern day living that stood contrasted to the thick Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest and the olden-day feel of Hale, a town with barely a thousand people that hadn’t seemed to change in two or three decades. Its inhabitants had lived there for generations, and would probably continue to do so.
The only
A blinding streak of light and a deafening crack of thunder was all the warning Braden had before he raised his kite shield in mock defense against the oncoming bolt of sheer energy that snaked towards him. His shield hummed with power as a bubble-like ward manifested around him, catching the bolt and harmlessly tossing the energy away to explode further down the arena. Braden’s teeth cringed as his bones rattled and the hair on his neck bristled. The sheer force of the attack collapsed his left arm, sending his kite shield slamming into his chest and his legs faltering beneath his own weight.
His brow furrowed as he painfully regained
WHITE NOISE
---
I stood and stared.
It had been easy to pretend that everything was okay.
That the world wasn't falling down around me.
But when it's shoved in your face with irrefutable proof it's all you can do to just remember to breathe.
And right now breathing is impossible as I stare at her pale skin. Her white-blonde hair. The bruises lining her temple, marring what was once clear skin. They had done well with clearing away most of the blood from the accident, it was obvious they took some care.
It wasn't her though. It was just a hollow shell. I couldn't pretend anymore. She was dead.
I nodded once at the coroner before turnin
Welcome to Night Vale: Halloween by MidnightDaybreak, literature
Literature
Welcome to Night Vale: Halloween
MIDNIGHTDAYBREAK
Hi, this is MidnightDaybreak, NOT the creator of Welcome to Night Vale. I became a fan of the podcast when my wife introduced me to it last summer, and have followed it ever since. It’s such an amazing show, and the writing is beyond phenomenal. I wish I could write that good.
For those of you that haven’t heard it before, if you’re a fan of great writing, dark humor, or just all around weird stuff, I highly recommend you check it out. They currently have 58 half hour episodes out, plus 2 hour-long live episodes that are a lot of fun. You can listen to the episodes on iTunes, Podbay, YouTube, or anywhere tha
The Last Three Days of His World by MidnightDaybreak, literature
Literature
The Last Three Days of His World
Bing-bong.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted the two children from their play. Five-year-old Leonhart Caesar Viridiano and his four-year-old sister, Lena, both looked hopefully at the front door, wondering who had come to visit. Maybe the mailman was delivering a package. Maybe an older girl had come trying to sell cookies again. Maybe grandma and grandpa were coming over for a visit.
Whoever was on the other side of the door, the children were anxious to meet them. Leonhart considered getting up to answer it himself, but he knew better. Mommy and daddy had taught him that answering the door was something only older people could d
to the boy who doesn't plan on leaving by your-methamphetamine, literature
Literature
to the boy who doesn't plan on leaving
how much of me can you swallow, love
before you finally purge?
I am a cartographer of bad
experiences; I can locate
precisely where I see our divergence
extraordinaire and I can tell you
before I have even met you
that the skin on my hands is too
dry for the softness you plan
on caressing me with.
let me tell you how this ends;
I will show you all the people
I have destroyed - flooded
to the best of my ignorance,
driven wild with jealousy,
had whipped with lust and left
smoking pot after four
promises stating otherwise.
let me tell you how this ends;
after showing you the blessed
catastrophe it is to be human,
you will destroy me. you may
the girl who swallowed an orca whale by apoemhowsweet, literature
Literature
the girl who swallowed an orca whale
She’s whispering puddles of paint into the plughole again
Tugging the hair at the nape of her neck
And prying scabs off her face like creaking cornflakes.
She’s trying to clean out the sadness again,
By dusting the pantry cupboard behind her bulging belly button.
She’s throwing out the bits of old macaroni, the tins of condensed milk,
the Campbells cream of mushroom soup, bloated with memories.
The spilt Alphabet Spaghetti spells out her pain
And she wipes the red away with her blue beating wrist.
There was never much to tell when it came to me. So many people treated me like a mystery, and I had no idea why. I don’t think adolescents understand the concept of “difference” too well.
As I said, there was never much to tell. I was paper-thin, and for the most part, skin-deep. But there was one thing that was notable. I think it was, at least.
I could move things without touching them. You know, like telekinesis. It was nothing impressive, and it always took a little bit of effort that I usually found annoying. I’m a lazy person. Or at least, I think I am.
I often did so in class. Just small things, like moving th