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Mon Mar 17, 2014 11:55 pm
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Purple says...



"There must have been some appeal to the devil. Why else would humankind continue being so terrible? He was even rarely worshipped, as if he was godlike and not a fallen angel. The light almost consumed me, and I heard the woman let out one last deafening scream. I was thrust into the light. It was so bright I couldn't even open my eyes. I couldn't find out if I was just given to God or Lucifer."
Not fantastic, but I wanted to participate. From my work, "Remembering my Resurrection - ​Chapter 2 – Beyond death, apparently"
  





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Tue Mar 18, 2014 1:03 am
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BluesClues says...



All these are from the novel I've been posting recently, The Book Man.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Oh, dear, I am sorry.”
“Are you apologizing to the marigolds?” Minerva asked.
Despite himself, he turned red.
“Yes,” he said.


“Something Tookish woke up inside you, did it?"


Conrad grinned. “Oh, I’m a young man in my prime. I’ll be—let’s see—one hundred and twelve next May.”
“One hundred and twelve,” Christian repeated. One hundred and twelve, and the balloon-artist barely looked the sixty he claimed. “You—you don’t look it.”
“Thank you,” Conrad said, and he continued with the story.


I am Narodnaya, the Keeper of the Marshes. And you are?
“Christian Abernathy,” he said. “The, er, human.”


The women closed in on him, still singing, and a different part of his brain (or perhaps something other than his brain) took fierce joy in their closeness and the smoothness of their skin and the curves of their bodies.


Ronin caught sight of him, clasped his hands and said, “My dear fellow! Whatever are you doing here? I would have thought you’d remain in the park with your young lady, if you turned up at all after that awful night—”
“It’s a long story,” Christian said, blushing. “And she isn’t my lady. My girlfriend. I mean—”


“With this?” he said. “I think not. How many swords am I holding up?”


“I remember he used to say to me: Son, people think immortality is a grand thing, but it’s not."


"I realize there’s no earthly reason why you should listen to me—”
“Then, being wise enough to realize that,” the man across the clearing said languidly, “perhaps you might also be wise enough to stop talking.”


...rather more noble a death than being crushed beneath a pile of books, which was how his grandmother had always joked he was likely to die.
(A horrible woman, Grandmother.)


“If you would, ladies and gentlemen—”
“—hell-dogs and hell-dames—”
“—put your frighteningly huge paws together—”


"...one must expect a battle to cause bodily harm as it is, and so one might as well look dashing while getting it.”


“What ails you?” Morrow asked grumpily. “I’ve all the same cuts and bruises you have. Keep it down or something’ll hear you.”


“Well—now I see there was nothing to be afraid of. You’re not so frightening after all.” (Utter lies.)


Goblin shrugged. “She’s dead anyway. Too bad. I liked her. Though she be but little, she is fierce. One of your writers, isn’t it?”
“Shakespeare,” Christian said automatically.


“Plants, growing things,” Goblin said. “They’ll love you, you know, if you give them some water and light and soil. They don’t care how you look. And they’re so beautiful, all of them.”


“Centuries, I was in that tree. Centuries. You can’t even begin to comprehend, with your insignificant human life, just a blip in time and space—”


It was the saddest kiss he had ever seen, a sadder kiss than he could ever have imagined: not a first kiss, but a last kiss.


“I’m sorry,” she said. “If I don’t let go now your hand will get stuck.”
“I would not be entirely unhappy about that,” Christian said.


You can read The Book Man here.
  





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Tue Mar 18, 2014 11:54 pm
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TriSARAHtops says...



I have a couple of quotes I'd like to share!
The first is from a short story I wrote last year:
If only the world could be healed with ‘if only’.

The other is from the first chapter of my novella 'Saltwater Wounds':
She felt in her pocket for one of the pebbles she had liberated from her neighbour’s front yard as she had first left for school. Pulling it out, she balanced it in her hand, pensive.
“I want…” she murmured as she threw it. It bounced once, twice, three times before disappearing into the water’s depths. She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Wanting had become a directionless sensation that even her beloved ocean couldn’t cure. She yearned for something without a name, something different, something more.
if we wait until we're ready
we'll be waiting
for the rest of our lives
  





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Wed Mar 19, 2014 12:06 am
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mephistophelesangel says...



I wrote something that I would like to share! :D

"There were so many songs. Daggers and swords and arrows sang, the wails and screams and yelps and yowls of both humans and foxes were songs, and the winds, picking up strength and chilling to the bone, sang also.
So this was why Abel laughed when he killed."

-from Soul's Decay, p. 118
  





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Wed Mar 19, 2014 7:08 am
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AdjiFlex says...



"Become strong, strong enough that death itself will fear you!” - Black Eyes Book 2: Fathers of Power (Prince Azar charges his warriors as they go out to train)

"Little girl, do understand that I am destiny's father... The past and future are a story, and I am its writer... strong will, you see, cannot fill the gap in power that separates men from gods..." - Kizer's speech to the world's heroes in Black Eyes Book 1: The Seventh Spirit
  





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Wed Mar 19, 2014 8:26 pm
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Pompadour says...



Random words of cobbleblak wisdom:

Perfection is a flaw.


Extract from "Meet me by the starry seacove, and I'll show you how to die." -- a short story:

The world is rolling up, rolling up. The walls are coming closer. And you breathe, and you sigh, but every breath you take tears your lungs out and singes your eyes.

And it's crumbling. The night is crumbling.

Faster and faster andfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterand-

she stands by you again, holding an hourglass. Her fingers are snowy white and as she swipes them against your face you can feel the blood rushing out, like rivers of molten dragon fire.


From "Wordwreck -- when walls fall":

The world's so drained, and I'm the last jagged jigsaw piece, the last dreary panel being pressed into the wall. I'm a burnt-up ruin and my words forgot how to dance to my fancies so long ago, I can't even remember.


Wheep. I think I'll just stop now. XD
How to format poetry on YWS

this sky where we live is no place to lose your wings
  





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Sat Mar 22, 2014 10:32 pm
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TheShauzer says...



Hey :) This is from a piece I wrote called 'Start to a story with good potential'.... I know...
Don't mock me :D

Spots marked the ground beneath her, the graves of fallen tears, and she added to them generously.


Probably my favourite line :D
Sometimes life throws lemons at you. Other times it throws rocks... Be grateful for the lemons!
  





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Tue Mar 25, 2014 9:28 pm
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eldEr says...



From the first throws of a novel I'm working on, called "Jackets":

The third time was after the bell let out, and you caught her hovering around the back door, arms folded over her chest, breathing up at the sky like a dragon. Just to watch her breath freeze, you figured, because she grinned like a fool afterwards. The light was in that grin.


You swallowed, and smiled, and clutched your books tighter to your chest. "You helped me pick my folders up at the mall," was not what you'd planned on saying, but it's what came out. "I never- I never said thank you."

You watched her eyebrow raise, and for the first time, you noticed that they were dyed, too. Sea-foam green on the outsides, blue on the inside corners. You found that enchanting.

"Yes you did," she said.

You blinked and laughed, adjusting your books so that you could scratch the back of your neck. "Right. Well, I wasn't courteous enough to ask for your name."

She stared at you for a second, and you could have sworn that you were making her laugh. The quiet kind. The laugh that sat behind someone's eyes and never came out of their mouth. "Jessie." She held her hand out to you, and you took it, answering,

"Shan."


And, from Coffee, Grit and My Dad's Best Shoes:

"The creeper 'stache, man," he whispered. "Like, super brunette white guy creeper 'stache. The I-am-exceedingly-obvious-and-scraggly-and-there's-nothing-you-can-do-about-it creeper 'stache."


Michael, on his sister's boyfriend's facial hair.

The kind of footwear that was incredibly unique in a way that you couldn't quite place your finger on, because they looked the same as every other pair of boots in the world. There was just an unmistakable air of ooh-la-la about them that revved up your material lust and got your wallet hot, bothered and begging.


Parker, on his aunty's new boots.

It also sunk in that the whole hair situation was extremely homosexual of me, but that was beside the point. If I wanted to work 'super fly gay guy,' I'd work it.


Also Parker, on, well, Parker.
Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurl.

got trans?
  





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Mon Apr 07, 2014 7:13 pm
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deleted5 says...



At our last stand,
Is when humanity,
Show it's true colours.

Either the better or the worse.
I AM YOUR GOD. -AlexSushiDog
Checkmate Atheists.
  





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Mon Apr 14, 2014 1:13 am
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Ventomology says...



“Oh please, there’s no way an obvious gentleman would be a wizard. They’re supposed to be young men, handsome and fair and completely empty upstairs.”

-Lady Dianne of Trador to the Wizard Threnton. (Golden Bird, Red Fox)
"I've got dreams like you--no really!--just much less, touchy-feeley.
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
on an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone
surrounded by enormous piles of money." -Flynn Rider, Tangled
  








"What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music."
— Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian