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Five past NineTen past nine. Death was running late. Again.
Richard stood from the couch with a sigh. Methodically he turned on the lights and then the TV. The same shitty news as the day before began spilling from the box and, ignoring it, Richard moved to the kitchen. He set a pot to boil water. The Earl Grey was always good for waiting.
Twenty past nine and Richard came back to his living room, teapot in one hand, a plate with two cups in the other. The TV was turned off and a man sat on the couch.
"I hope you don't mind, I have seen it all." The man said pointing toward the TV.
"You're late." Richard said ignoring the man's comment as he placed the cups on the table between them.
Death shrugged as he took the cup of steaming Earl Grey that Richard just poured him. "Urgent business. You know how it is. Sometimes I'm expected, sometimes I'm not."
Richard had known for the last ten years that he was supposed to die at 5 past 9. And for the last ten years Death had been late.
"Who was it?" Richard a
Memories of Thassilon, part 2Natalia walked for hours through the dark streets and alleys of Korvosa, unaware of where she was heading. She just knew that she needed to stay away from the workshop and the Box.
Before Natalia realized it, her feet had carried her to the doors of the Academae. Constructed like a castle, the imposing and impregnable thirty foot tall walls concealed not just the building and the students, but a different world from hers.
Except for the Breaching Festival and cursing once in a while about the imps that plague the city, she had put little thought into wondering about this building or those who lived inside. She didn't have the kind of coin to pay such expensive tutelage, much less the magical aptitude to make use of it. Natalia worked mundane marvels and was damned proud of it.
But since she'd met Astrid, Natalia had become curious about magic and everything related to it. Astrid had even patiently tried to teach her, but Natalia was a slow learner of the mystical arts
Memories of Thassilon, part 1
"Whatever brings you here, I'm not interested."
Natalia spoke without stopping or turning around, her delicate fingers still carefully working on a mechanical music player. Judging from how the wood squeaked with each step, she knew that the man behind her was unarmored. She placed one of her tools on the workbench and discretely picked up her butterfly dagger. That doesn't mean he is unarmed, Natalia thought.
"You haven't even heard what I have come to say," said the man in a clear baritone. He was not Korvosan, his accent was more refined than that. Chelexian, perhaps? And he's a nobleman, Natalia cursed twice under her breath.
"If it's business that you bring, speak with Master Olin. He will establish terms that I can work with," the young engineer spoke with casual indifference. She was used to nobles trying to have their way. Not with her, she had very specific rules and made no exceptions.
"Ahh but Miss Crow," the man said with impatient amusement, "it
Rain"It's as if the gods are crying," says the old coachman as his vehicle moves along the forested path. It certainly feels as if the sky is collapsing above us. Maybe the old man is right.
"Stop speaking nonsense Vrae," spits Anna, the old woman sitting with me in the back of the coach. "What will our guest think of us after such heresy?" The woman's tone make it sound more as an apology to me than a reprimand at her husband, but her eyes and thoughts are elsewhere. She watches every shadow outside the coach nervously. I had been lucky to find them this late at night. These days few travelers use this path anymore; it had just become too dangerous with bandits, and worse.
"It's ok ma'am, it certainly seems like an awful night," I shrug with a smile, an awkward gesture with my drenched tunic, soaked after hours below the rain.
"Gods above, where I have left my manners tonight? Girl, priestess or not, you need to change clothes or you will catch a cold." Her words are kind, but they
Space SorceryDebts Always come First
Ernesto I. Ramirez
The red and black starfighter appeared suddenly from Nowhere, the subspace used by sorcerers for FTL travel. It was so fast that the Space Station's alarms and defenses had no time to go off. Without any inconvenience the small ship had stealthily made into the SSC Kuttner's perimeter, quickly disappearing among the hundreds of docked ships waiting for Customs or cleared already by the Command Tower.
Private Math Ross, Sonar Officer for the SSC Kuttner Space Station, had barely noticed the red dot on his screen. He dismissed it as nothing more than a system's bug. Overlooking operations was Lieutenant Willem Fold. Math looked up to see if his superior officer had noticed what he had seen. He had.
"Damn sorcerers, they think they can come from Nowhere and make themselves at home just because they can. I keep telling Jusk to recalibrate the sonar and make it more sensitive..." It was not unusual for Willem to tense
"Forgive me Father""Forgive me father because I have sinned," I half whispered.
"What did you buy now?" Came the voice from the other side of the phone - half a country away. Of course he was not a priest. It was one of my best friends answering the phone with his most 'business-tone', ignoring my small sacrilege altogether. Still sinned was the right word, I was broke.
"N3 II." I didn't need to explain that N3 II meant 'Ninety Nine Nights 2' nor that I bought it on credit.
"The critics are pretty harsh on it, you know?" Yeah, I knew, I had been the one sending him the Gametrailers link after all.
"Yeah, but it's N3, how many games do you know that allow you to kill thousands of enemies on the same screen?" It was a week defense, yet it was partially the reason I got it on the double when it arrived. The other was the aesthetic, of course.
"But Inphyy doesn't appear in it any longer."
I cursed silently. Inphyy was the female main character in the first one, and one of my favorite characters.
Ilab Capitulo 2 hoja 1Ilab se encontraba sentado a los pies de su colchón. Pensaba. "¿Qué clase de lugar es este? No soy militar y no quiero serlo. No quiero dormir con extraños. Todo esto me da miedo. No quiero ir a esta escuela... ¿Y quién puede obligarme? ¿Y si me levanto y me voy? Sí, yo me voy de este lugar enfermizo."
Ilab respiró profundo, estaba a punto de levantarse cuando vio a un chico de pelo parado y alborotado de color negro con una mejilla roja y un chico de pelo negro con rayas rojas ser perseguidos por un hombre con uniforme azul marino, y al uniformado ser perseguido por un extraño chico de pelo rubio y playera como de tiburón. Eso quizá haya sido lo más extraño que haya visto en el día.
Ilab puso las manos en el suelo para apoyarse y levantarse y en eso escuchó un sonido en lo alto. Como el chirrido que suena al prender un micrófono. Buscó de dónde podía provenir el sonido pero no lo encont
Writing on the WallThe writing was on the wall.
It was invisible to most, true, but I could see it. It beckoned to me; lured me into the destitute old manor. I alone knew of the existence of some long-hidden, terrible secret.
The mansion had once been beautiful, I was told; the room I was currently in was proof enough of that. The walls were upholstered with what used to be the most fine and delicate of silks. At one point, it must have been a soothing, creamy colour; but now, it was darkened and stained with age and the waste of the animals taken to inhabiting the walls of the manor. Flags, of many national and familial origins, dangled from the weak strings still attaching them to the splitting rosewood flagpoles. Bright, unused silver sabres guarded a banquet setting that would never see another mirth-filled holiday feast or magnificent banquet; a moth-eaten table runner dangled off the ebony tabletop. I could feel the cotton carpet through the soles of my shoes.
It was nothing more than a beautiful f
Weeping Love Part 4When Lucas couldn't fall asleep, he had gotten out of bed and walked towards his bedroom window. He was hoping that the Statue was gone, but it wasn't. She was still there with hers arms reaching out, like she still wants to hug. Something about her he had loved, but even he couldn't really figure it out. How can a Statue move on its own? He had watched her for a good five minutes and decided to go into kitchen and grab something to drink. He was so confused on how this was happening and why.
As he sat in the kitchen, he was wondering what would happen if he had let the Angel touch him. He admitted that he was a little terrified about it, but maybe he was just a little crazy. He had decided to take the risk and put his shoes on and went outside in the dark. As he walked outside, the Angel was still looking at his bedroom window and he slowly walked towards her. She was more beautiful than before. Lucas was able to see her gorgeous face and noticed something on her cheek. The closer he
Secret Recipe: part 1 - Relativity episode 32 Sara sat at the conference table, chewing on the cap of her pen. It didn't do anything to assuage her nervousness, but she wasn't in a position where she could stand and pace the room.
Mrs. Winters stared over the top of her cat-eye glasses and pursed her lips. "You have done significant work to bring this institution to a position of viability. You have managed to cut overhead, expand services, and operate without a loss for two years. It's an impressive feat. However, that does not guarantee you will receive the full funding requested."
Leaning forward, the administrator tried to keep her voice level. "With all due respect, after we received the recent grant from Bruce Enterprises, we lowered our funding request. We're already operating on seventy percent of what we received a year ago, and are still managing to maintain our service levels. Further cuts are going to mean lay-offs and discontinuation of programs."
AloneYou never do realize how alone you are.
You have your best friend, family maybe even just a pet. They make you feel important in someway, that someone still likes you in the world.
But when you grow distant from you best friend, you think, "Well I have other people to talk too. It's no big deal."
But it goes on longer than expected, you see that you don't that special thing you use to share with each other. The way you might have talked, or how you acted. Hell you might not even glance each other in the eye to say something.
Your family begins to resent one another, their is always aruging. No one talks or do what they can to avoid each other. In some cases maybe even walk past you with out a glance, just like you were another unknown face in the crowd.
So you hope to head back to school, talk to those 'other people' you use to talk too. Then you realize they had other friends they were closer too and knew longer than you have, comes to a point they hardly talk to you either.
So now yo
Hellbound Chapter 11 - The Tempest RisesTantalus stood upon the balcony of the 'Tartarus' Heli-carrier observing all his troops clambering into the Daedalus transports, running is hand over the railings. The hour was almost up, with a few minutes to spare. Tantalus noticed a soldier signaling to him from the flight deck indicating his flight was ready for departure. He strode off and headed down the metallic staircase leading to the flight deck, where his own customized Daedalus Transport was waiting, a large heavy high tech transport copter with heavy armoured plating and two gunner positions located on either side of the transport. The large steel door lowered to allow Tantalus to step onto the deck of the Daedalus Transport, a commanding officer approached Tantalus, "We're all set sir. Ready to leave at your command, the comm is yours."
Tantalus grabbed the mic and punched the comms button to activate the system. His loud voice echoed through the Flight Deck, the control room, through every single area
Camp 01For a rusty piece of junk the jeep was holding up pretty good, but not good enough. Olivia was sure the jeep would only just make it to the camp; but as long as they made it they should be fine. She drove along the road carefully, trying to avoid any bumps and potholes at all costs; both for the jeep and Jason. She looked in the review mirror and saw Jason leaning against Tim. They might have Jason back, but he was far from being all right.
Jason held his side with both hands. His wound was healing but the road didn’t make it easy for him to keep faking he was fine. His eyes were red and tired. He cringed over every bump. He refused to admit that he wasn’t 100 percent.
After a while Tim finally said. “Can you watch where you’re going? He can’t take it.” He had an arm around Jason.
“Do you want to try driving on one of the crummiest road I’ve ever seen?” Olivia snapped, star
Lost in a sea of memoriesThe sun was coming out filling the sky with its rays and revealing the blue we all know.
I stand up. I spent the nigth on the outside with onliy a jacket to protect me from the cold of nigth, his jacket. I couldn't even sleep with this memories haunting me.
Both of us running, escaping. He giving me his jacket and telling me to go away... The sigth of him laying on the floor... Not being able to help him...Scyte... I'm sorry...
I grip the jacket behind me. I won't ever forget those two rubies for eyes looking at me as I run, the pain but relief in them, the single tear running down his cheek into the blood-stained floor.
I know, if he's dead, it's all my fault.
I start walking into the city not paying attention to anything but my thoughts, until I stump into something.
I look up apologizing, and I meet with a pair of emerald eyes looking back at me. Those eyes felt... Familiar, as if I've seen them before. Then it comes to me. But, how can it be? is he really... Desmond? Brother?
Untitled Draft"Hay veces que la más mínima gota de agua puede hacer rebalsar un vaso"; en mi opinión es una frase que, al ser demasiado usada, pierde su verdadero significado. No, no me refiero al significado que, por ejemplo podemos buscar en el diccionario. Sino a ese significado "emocional", al que cuando nos hablan de eso, sabemos como se siente estar en esa situación. Como cuando, vemos algún vídeo de accidentes en internet, y nos impresionamos al ver cómo el chico que iba en bicicleta se cae y se golpea fuertemente la cabeza contra un poste de luz. O como cuando alguien nos muestra un raspón del tamaño de su dedo en su rodilla, y nos empieza a contar cómo se lo hizo. Entonces uno empieza a exclamar "AHHH", "TSS", o "NOO, NO SIGAS HABLANDO QUE ME DA IMPRESIÓN". Pero, lo curioso es que nadie hace ese tipo de exclamaciones exageradas cuando alguien dice la frase, con la cual comencé éste texto.
Curioso ¿verdad?, nos impre
Subterraneo for LatinosUnidosLa vela se extingue y la oscuridad envuelve a Micael. Desesperado, busca salir a la superficie. Sus manos están adoloridas, por el antebrazo siente pequeñas gotas cayendo, mas no sabe si es la humedad de la pared que se le ha pegado al cuerpo o su propia sangre.
Continúa avanzando, cada vez más despacio. La fría inmundicia del agua vulnera los tobillos y hace que se tambalee a cada paso. Se ha acostumbrado al olor de las cloacas.
Micael se detiene un instante para escuchar si lo siguen, pero sus oídos solo detectan el rumor del agua a sus pies y el eco de su respiración. Quizás aún no lo han descubierto.
Camina un largo trecho sin comprender adónde se dirige. Escucha algo, se detiene para oír mejor: pasos que se acercan, también ladridos. Asustado intenta correr por el pasillo, se aproximan, tropieza, se pone de pie y continua corriendo; la brecha se hace más corta, la luz a sus espaldas le permite ver por dond
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More