She cracks the door just an inch, peering through the crack into the darkness of the room beyond. Lightning flashes through the window, illuminating vague figures standing still. Fingers twitching, mind racing, heart pounding, she pushes through the door and reaches to grab the nearest figure. The white fabric slips silently off as she touches it, revealing the chair underneath. A wry grin finds its way onto her face and she moves through the room. Dust bunnies run from her falling footsteps, jumping quickly then slowly drifting back to the floor. She slides the cloth from several pieces, a table, a couch, more chairs, a trunk, a vanity.
Theyll be coming here today,
Marching to no particular beat,
Heading somewhere no one knows.
Unresponsive, unyielding
Their numbers keep growing,
As graveyards empty
And mausoleums vacate,
Corpses gone
These soulless bodies
With no thoughts of their own
Just keep marching
Walking, crawling
Their voices can be heard,
Screams of pain,
Cries of anguish,
Wailing, sobbing
What could cause so much sorrow?
They have no answer
But theyll just keep marching
With daisies in hand.
Song of the instruments by ninjapengui, literature
Literature
Song of the instruments
The symphony is over; all the players have left the stage. Sitting in silence their instruments wait on the darkened stage. Soon the next performance will begin but this one wont fall upon open ears. The concert hall is closed; no one will be here to listen. Even so, the instruments prepare to play. The conductors baton raises, floating above the podium it was lying on and begins marking off an andante beat. A single flute begins to whistle, moving along the scale as the tempo accelerates. Flutes and clarinets move to ready positions and chime in with the
White sky meets a black earth in this world of dreams. Here is where butterfly dreams float through the cloudless sky and spider nightmares creep along the ground, both looking to project their images into peoples minds. I live here amongst them yet I have no dreams of my own. Night never comes here; I cant sleep so I dont dream.
I build dream catchers to try to find a dream of my own. They let me live the dreams of others. Like trees reaching towards the sky with woven branches, they stand across the land, butterflies becoming entwined in their branches.
Crash!
A glass ball shattered on the ground, catching the attention of the cameras in the room. They quickly scanned the area and found the culprit. A mouse had found its way to the first branches on a tree. Red eyes reflected on the broken glass illuminating its metallic body. Out of the garland-laced wall came a small claw. In one swift movement it caught the metal mouse and lifted it to a calendar display on the wall. December 24 stretched across the screen. The mouses ears perked up and it knew what to do. Once it scurried into a hole in the wall, the red glow darkened and the cameras reset to await the next da
She cracks the door just an inch, peering through the crack into the darkness of the room beyond. Lightning flashes through the window, illuminating vague figures standing still. Fingers twitching, mind racing, heart pounding, she pushes through the door and reaches to grab the nearest figure. The white fabric slips silently off as she touches it, revealing the chair underneath. A wry grin finds its way onto her face and she moves through the room. Dust bunnies run from her falling footsteps, jumping quickly then slowly drifting back to the floor. She slides the cloth from several pieces, a table, a couch, more chairs, a trunk, a vanity.
Theyll be coming here today,
Marching to no particular beat,
Heading somewhere no one knows.
Unresponsive, unyielding
Their numbers keep growing,
As graveyards empty
And mausoleums vacate,
Corpses gone
These soulless bodies
With no thoughts of their own
Just keep marching
Walking, crawling
Their voices can be heard,
Screams of pain,
Cries of anguish,
Wailing, sobbing
What could cause so much sorrow?
They have no answer
But theyll just keep marching
With daisies in hand.
Song of the instruments by ninjapengui, literature
Literature
Song of the instruments
The symphony is over; all the players have left the stage. Sitting in silence their instruments wait on the darkened stage. Soon the next performance will begin but this one wont fall upon open ears. The concert hall is closed; no one will be here to listen. Even so, the instruments prepare to play. The conductors baton raises, floating above the podium it was lying on and begins marking off an andante beat. A single flute begins to whistle, moving along the scale as the tempo accelerates. Flutes and clarinets move to ready positions and chime in with the
White sky meets a black earth in this world of dreams. Here is where butterfly dreams float through the cloudless sky and spider nightmares creep along the ground, both looking to project their images into peoples minds. I live here amongst them yet I have no dreams of my own. Night never comes here; I cant sleep so I dont dream.
I build dream catchers to try to find a dream of my own. They let me live the dreams of others. Like trees reaching towards the sky with woven branches, they stand across the land, butterflies becoming entwined in their branches.
Crash!
A glass ball shattered on the ground, catching the attention of the cameras in the room. They quickly scanned the area and found the culprit. A mouse had found its way to the first branches on a tree. Red eyes reflected on the broken glass illuminating its metallic body. Out of the garland-laced wall came a small claw. In one swift movement it caught the metal mouse and lifted it to a calendar display on the wall. December 24 stretched across the screen. The mouses ears perked up and it knew what to do. Once it scurried into a hole in the wall, the red glow darkened and the cameras reset to await the next da
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Penguin Favourite genre of music: Rock or Orchestral Favourite style of art: The cool kind Operating System: Vista MP3 player of choice: iPhone! Wallpaper of choice: Whatever looks neat at the moment Favourite cartoon character: GURREN LAGANN! Personal Quote: Penguins don't fly, they jump with attitute!
Favourite Movies
Equillibrium
Favourite Writers
Douglas Adams
Favourite Games
How dare you try to make me pick only one!
Favourite Gaming Platform
PC and Wii
Tools of the Trade
Camera, Microsoft Office, gimp, mspaint (lol)
Other Interests
Penguins, Ninjas, fish, video games, anime, giant fighting robots
Leave a comment and...
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which color you remind me of.
3. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
4. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
5. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
6. I'll tell you my favorite thing about you.
7. I'll tell you my least favorite thing about you.
8. I'll tell you to post this on your journal!
Also, NaNo is really hard! <ohnoesplz (https://www.deviantart.com/ohnoesplz)
But I'm proud of my 1000 words XD
I am officially going to participate in NaNo this year! Gonna be tough, this will be the first real time I sit down and try to consistently write every day. I'll be updating my journal every so often, mostly so I can keep track of of how far behind I'm getting XD
Keep an eye out, I might be submitting bits and pieces for comments and critique ;)
To anyone still watching me, yes I'm still alive. Been really busy with work and school and stuff that I haven't had any time to really spend on here, write anything, or make new emotes. I'm trying to change that and hopefully this journal will give me the push to really work on stuff.
I am officially writing a book. There, I've said it. Can't take it back now. Have to write the thing. I've created my own steampunk/magic world and already have most of the stuff in my head. It's just the writing it down part that I get stuck on. I'll probably start putting up details about the world and the book in general here to help me focus and ge