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BrokkenSaint's picture

A backstory on Koysta

The Back story of Koysta
quadraptor's picture

Return to Nature - Story XII

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A heavy rain falls today. You stay home for the day, listening to the sound of thunder that shakes your home. You sit in your chair, holding onto the plush deer. Vito lays on you, his little plastic eyes seeming to look up to your lovingly.

The rain lures you to sleep, relaxing in the chair and resting as you hear it hit your windows. You awake to find yourself someplace you have never been before - an isolated desert landscape surrounds you. You look around to see small hills, desert shrubs, and small cacti. Above you see birds of prey that circle around, and a slight breeze brushes past. You are surprised at how warm the place is.

"Mommy, you're awake!", you hear Vito say to you. You notice he is standing there with you - he has grown significantly since you remember. He is no longer a child but a young buck.

"Hello Vito...", you say, and then looking around, you ask, "Have you seen my friend, the other deer, who always is with us?" The little one shakes his head. It's just you two this time.

"I woke up here and found just you. I kept calling to you but you didn't hear me.", he said.

You look around, "We need to figure out where to go. It's going to get hotter out here soon.", you say. Instinctively, you notice a lone rock nearby, and see your deer's pictogram has been etched into it. "This way!", you say, and you start to walk in the direction that the pictogram seems to point to. Vito follows closely, his eyes wide open.

The two of you walk for a while. The landscape seems to be the same for miles, and the sun continues to bear down on you with heat and light. As you are walking, you see Vito collapse next to you. You turn and look to him suddenly, "Vito?", you ask.

He isn't speaking. You reach down and pick him up, holding him on your shoulders like you have before. He is still breathing, but you can tell he is exhausted.
quadraptor's picture

Return to Nature - Perspectives II (Artists please look)

This story is dedicated to the artists of the Endless Forest community. After you read, please look at the request beneath it for a fun event.

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"Inspiration"

I called your name, asking, "Let me be born today. Bring me to life." You answer as your pencil touches the paper. You have thought of me all day, and slowly you begin to draw my frame.

The lines connect and become my body, my skeleton. I feel myself start to take shape. You take a pen and ink in the pencil lines, giving me eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, legs, and a tail. I can finally draw upon my senses as each are added. You finish the last details and return to your pencil, creating a scenic landscape for me to live. You provide sunlight, grass for me to eat, trees to protect me, and birds to keep me company. You finish the land with your pen, revealing the true beauty of your own imagination.

You then take a box of colored pencils and make my world come alive. Your strokes give beautiful definition to the world, and I feel the land I stand on pulse as if it had it's own heart. You then place the pencils on me, and I suddenly feel myself become one with the landscape, my body having warmth and a pulse of my own.

With the last bit of color, I live in the world you created for me.

No longer am I a part of your mind, but a living creature in a world of my very own. I now will do my share to honor you, by inspiring those who see me and my land to dream of their own creatures to bring to life. I have become a living dream for all to see.

Thank you for creating me.

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Were you inspired by this story? Did you see your own deer come to life in your mind as you read it?

How the Prince {Soko} came to be...

The birch forest was quiet and calm...all of the trees were reaching up to the sky, each one was hoping to touch Jupiter where it hung bright as a star. The sun had just begun to rise and stretched with rose-orange fingers across the sky. The sky itself was cloudless, the stars were still visible all around with the white-faced moon watching the world beneath her. She sent a cool breeze through the forest and it cooled the glistening sweat from the coat of a young stag that'd been hiding for the night.



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OokamiAzura's picture

She Told Me Her Name Was Billie Jean...

...as she caused a scene.
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one,
Who will dance on the floor in the round...


Sure, she could have done everything she wanted to. She could have easily have spelled that snoozing hart nearby, make him her pretty little peacock, if only for a second. She could have completely ignored the butterfly doe next to him, as she protested the snowflake's playfully malicious act. She could have stepped on the Mini nearby, with all the intent of being grating, annoying.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have easily have been an ass the night before, and gave that poor Nightfall stag a hard time, with a flash of sugar brown, and a flurry of feathers right beside her. She could have told off the large chocolate stag nearby, telling him that fighting got no one anywhere. She could have really jumped in on the fighting, the Kabuki pelted stag swinging wildly this way and that. She was convinced he was Bi Polar, and could have easily have told him off hours before, when he circled her, sniffed her, thinking about it, and oh yes, he was thinking about that coat of snow, so pure in its presentation, so tainted underneath.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have been running and jumping with them the whole time, ribbons of red, black, blue, gold, white, colliding, meshing like they were one. She could have been the prankster that trumpet antlered the largest one, the leader, as he snorted and bellowed at her, and oh, she would just laugh it off.

But no, she sat perfectly still.

She could have done everything in-between, white fur shedding its way off of her, her back to the world, wind sneaking through her helm. She could have taken her helm off, said "Fuck you all," and exposed that ugly -though everyone said "Beautiful"- face, hints of red gathering at her cheeks.
OokamiAzura's picture

l Dedication l

Baal's picture

A kindness given...

karma-karma-karma [ short story ]

your eyes they took my beating heart and gave it to the sea
it's not like you were ever here whenever it was me
your spirit burns my dying lungs and now I cannot breathe
it's not like I was never there while you were running free

Tenley's picture

You know, i was just thinking....

It seems like alot of the posts from 'popular' people get more comments on there posts then anyone else. Like yawn, she posted waarjid for nopje and it was beautiful! Just as beautiful as solaya's ice and amika and she has six comments! and the birthday gift for shimmy that has 5 comments! Why don't you comment on yawns or even mine? I am beginning to feel as thoguh you guys don't like me because noone comments on mine! And probabley yawn feels that way to! IF you are going to comment on one picture, and you see that somone elses picture has no comments, just be nice and just say thanks for the picture! OR, thats nice! or something so you make that person feel good and not left out. because, i know how i feel like the person i give a picture to doesn't like it if they don't say thank you! I won't say names because i know that would be rude. Crybaby's bio has 251 comments! Were tobbie's bio has 2! That makes people feel bad... just try to be nice! I was nice enough to try really hard on a picture of sao and xav and such, and i didn't even get a nice! or thank you! ...
OokamiAzura's picture

Spin me a web of nightmares and lies, and I'll tell you "It's Reality." [Story]

WARNING.

THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS POSSIBLY DISTURBING IMAGERY AND SITUATIONS.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. EVEN THOUGH WARNINGS GET YOU NOWHERE.




Drip…drop. Drip…drop.

Water, seeping through the cracks, spilling onto the floor below. The dull sound is but one of the few things audible in this dark, dank place. Rats skirt past your feet, their soft fur one of the few things almost comforting to feel. They squeak quietly as they run by, the usual chit chatter of their kind. A part of you can almost hear the dripping sarcasm in-between garbled vowels; or perhaps, you’re simply imagining it.

We see you’re here again. Welcome back.

You’ve been here so many times, and yet it’s still hard to define what is real here, and what isn’t.

It’s cold here too. There’s no draft here. It’s just…cold. It’s that feeling you get when you’ve realized you’ve stepped a little too far into the neighbor farmer’s yard. You’re the one who gets left behind by your cohorts, the one who’s left staring down the blank eyes of the shotgun.
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