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The Fire (Chapter 1)This is what happened on the 29th and (most of) the 30th of June. I will upload another section tomorrow, and when the story is finished, merge it all together. I would say enjoy, but its perhaps not the best of stories.
The story begins in the early hours of the morning, on Saturday the 29th of June, 2013. I've just come back from a trip to Belgium, a school trip, and the coach has just arrived back at school. Since I have to walk home through a, let's say, sometimes unsavory town at 3 am (my mother doesn't have a car, and I can't drive...) I am accompanied by my dear mother. Walking past a stupid person who just so happened to be on the same trip, we head off home.
We talk about relativity un-interesting things, that I can't really remember, as we stroll through the neighborhood. I think I mentioned the rainbow lolly pop that I purchased there which was full of E numbers and kept me awake for part of the journey.
At home, I walked upstairs, past the kitchen (that was still fun
EightEight is a number, but it is also many other things.
It is a bar in my hometown.
And a date on the calender.
It is the asterisk symbol on the keyboard
And a symbol that appears like this: 8
There are figures of eight
People aged eight
Eight more days to go...
Eight more days until my birthday, on the 8th day of the 8th month.
My mind is missing :3Mr.iTunes was sitting at his desk. Suddenly, his 'unhappy customer' detector beeped.
He looked at it and saw something from deviantART.
It was a journal entry, by TheIrritatingPenguin.
'Bob?' He called his assistant.
'What now? Another one?'
'We may need to leave the country for a bit.'
Bob sighed. 'Again?'
Bob walked over and read the journal entry.
'That's worse than usual'
'Yeah, I know' Mr.iTunes replied.
'You know, you could actually make them happy?'
'Where's the fun in that?'
TheIrritatingPenguin sat at their desk.
They sent a message to Mr.iTunes.
'REMEMBER THIS MESSAGE, FOR IT SHALL BE YOUR LAST.
With an evil, evil, evil, evil, evil laugh, they set off...
Only 11.You know, since the series finale of Doctor Who, I've been thinking...
'How many Doctors are there?'
I've found the answer.
Now, we saw John Hurt at the end of that episode, but he isn't the Doctor. He was the one who broke the promise. There may be 12 regenerations of him...
But there are only 11 Doctors.
What ever 'he' did, we should never find out...
But I have a feeling that we might.
Preview of a tale.I traveled in time.
Once upon a time I was walking along, when I saw a portal like thing. I tripped over a banana skin and fell into it, therefore traveling in time. I knew this because I saw dinosaurs. I then woke up and realised that I wasn't dreaming.
one track mindthey ask him what about the motorbikes
they ask him what about tossing spray paint cans
to bomb grand canyon
he says fuck you i just want to roll over.
the glue of eyelids and a fistful of cheerios.
rainbow smear on your hands they say.
you would tug at sky’s ponytail why don’t you go go go.
the subterraneans, the subhuman,
solar panel fetishists
scrounging morning dazzle or free passes through the neon
intravenous voodoocrowbar oceanus
a swarm of earthquakes circle
as i'm swimming through the syrup
inch by inch this
but all the pictures come out perfect
a fourteen hour dream
that's about to get sulfuric
steam and streaming
straight into the circuit
u put the blow up U in the i luv Uafter a short all inclusive on the surf face of the sun
ghost of closed down fetus set up shop in the rubber doll's phantom pregnancy
Rubbish ImaginableUnder the bridges waking, there comes a call by all men baking, pleading:
“Please don’t go, can’t you see the break of day
slowly crunching our homes, crunching sighs,
crunching our own frilly highs?”
Smoke stops at the heart of dark horses, leaving behind a trail of beds.
Not too late, the crow marches on.
Circle me, circle you, one thing there he has to do.
Scorned by the flying tide, the wading wallow listlessly.
Trying by the Catholic cross, it’s all around the gaming fence.
Channel thee. Channel through. Channel all things false and true.
Lovely likeness shares no bounds with anything made by you.
Tougher than crystal carbon bombs and dynamite lipstick backdoor drops.
Laser beams catch golden halos on the rising mountain rise.
He won’t follow you down that trail, hiding out those hidden lies.
Like an angel back from work, I tried so hard to fly and fry.
moi, j'en sais rienLe monde est parti en avant
loin derrière l horizon embué au crépuscule des astres malades de lactose,
enfants du ciel. Le monde est parti
En avant, pelerins, peuples de mon esprit,
marcheurs de rêve
nous tâchons de rejoindre ses tours sombres,
sortis des tenèbres pour la première
fois. Le monde parti en avant,
sans que personne ne le suive
d'un nulle part à l'autre.
Drowns out the stars
Follow its path
A streetlight turning red
Reflect their vanity
Drowns out the stars
A streetlight flashes green
No mind, clear
Kill all the stars
The arrows point to the left
But the way is right
A streetlight turns to red
Cartugafiq mishkal dunduКартугаф'ия-мишкал дунду
Дулап дълап тъ
you're gonna love it out therei can see it now:
you painting across a sky littered with fireworks and light pollution
as if to save your life
wishing that this anywhere had never become that "somewhere" that you tried so hard to run from.
sit and celebrate the sound of broken glass
on the sweet day of your champagne birth
live the fantasies of perfection passed
in silent silhouettes
and loaded Russian roulettes
now i dare you not to move
and feel the weight of an atlas born
the son of a man who gave his life to hold the world
on his back, at that,
and after all these years he won't want a dime back.
i can hear it now:
the sound of you mumbling in your sleep
like it's all a bad dream
like what you wanted never came to be
more than you could hold.
you're gonna love it out there, i know.
MeThis is me.
I am me.
I don't know what me is.
Me is me.
I don't know me.
Who am I?
I wake up.
And I think.
Well, I don't, but you don't know that.
Well, you do now.
When I feel me.
Is this life?
We are all dying, which is true but a little pessimistic.
Every second you live every time you smile every time you see anything, you get closer to dying.
We live, we die. What is the meaning of life?
To have fun, to live, to see stuff.
Oh look it's a glass, either half full or half empty.
Apparently, it tells you how you look at life.
'It depends, *GANGNAM STYLE JUST CAME ON YAY ITUNES * on whether it has been filled half way...
Or filled fully then half drank.
Why am I writing this? I got inspired by Viva la Vidi, because I love it, but my Mum says stuff about it.
Which I don't like.
And I listened to it, and I was...me
But now Gangnam has changed me.
This is gonna get a different feel. But NOW gangnam
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