Writing

Firefly

May 16, 2010 - 8:33am — Kenryoku

[This is just a sorta short story I wrote centering around an optimistic fawn that suffers from memory loss and the wolf that raised him his entire life. While it doesn't go indepth on their history, it centers more around the importance of memories, a deep friendship (OHNO NOT FRIENDSHIP) and having to let someone go. Plus it makes my deer's bio make more sense. I'm not the best writer, but meh.]

The rain pounded the ground as the night began to come to an unknown forest. The trees swayed in the heavy freeze, and the temperature seemed to sink further and further down. Lightning flashed in the sky, creating a eerie feel in the quieting silence. The forest critters scurried to their dens with their young, not wanting them to fall ill from the bad weather. The atmosphere, though dark, was silent... though, deep within the forest, it was but all peaceful.

A young fawn, pelt smeared with sogging mud, ran a distance ahead of a silver pelted wolf, terrified down to the core of what the extremely large predator could do if it got a hold of him. He could remember what his mother had told him about wolves... though he couldn't remember where she was. His sides heaving, he stopped and noticed a tree with a hole in it; it was his perfect chance to hide!

Squeezing himself in the tree, he curled himself into a ball, hearing the wolf's steps getting closer. They soon stopped, and he was so close to letting out a sigh of relief. "You ain't foolin' anyone with this, kid." he heard the gruff voice call... "Now come on out. You know I ain't gonna hurt you."

[Read more for the full story]

Writing

Hallelujah

May 16, 2010 - 4:41am — Sonata

Some say that loneliness is truly when you are by yourself.
Others say it is just a feeling, like everything else...

But...

True loneliness comes only when others are around.

To be with others.
Is to be truly alone.
To give yourself to others until you have been scattered about in heart and soul.

That is true loneliness.

Writing

Seed's Story: In Which Resistance Is Futile

May 16, 2010 - 2:07am — Seed

Chapter 1: In Which A Question is Asked Repeatedly and Our Hero Arrives in the Setting

Seed's Story, Chapter 2 : In Which Resistance Is Futile

“We have brought you home,” the trees said. “Homethey repeated – it wasn’t just one tree speaking, but almost all of them – all the ones that weren’t quite individuals, all the ones whose roots were wrapped around each other in tangles. “Home.” “Home.”

“No, you took me away from home,” Seed said. He looked around for a path out of this forest, which existed above and below the time of deer. It stretched as endlessly as the forest he had left.

“Home is where you belong. Come back to us,” the trees chorused. “Back to us.” “Us, us.” “Belong to us.” The rustled it along his spine, dropping the words like rocks in his brain, where they hit the walls of his skull and rebounded. It almost felt like they were ringing bells in his head. “Belong.”

“…I’ve chosen a different path,” Seed answered, looking down at the ground. They were there, too, but at least he didn’t have to look at them. The knots in the bark of the trees that surrounded him resembled great eyes, like the eyes of an owl. They were eyes, without giving the trees eyes, without ceasing to be bark. Trees without full wills of their own were simple – they could withstand being contradictions like that.

“A bad path,” the trees replied. “A lonely path,” they added. “Lonely?” “Lonely?” They rustled a bit, whispering too low for him to make out. They seemed to be gathering up for strength, for unity. “A bad path can be walked backwards on. Try again.” “Again.” “Again.”

“No,” Seed said.

Writing

MINI PELT

May 15, 2010 - 9:34pm — tawnigirl

anyone wanna help me get the mini pelt?? :/
i have had it once, a while back

Writing

Seed's Poetry Corner: A Duel Amongst Flowers

May 15, 2010 - 5:18am — Seed

A Duel Amongst Flowers

They dance in a cyclone of violet;
the petals rip off their antlers
and slide from the swift motion.
The dancers move as if on a breeze
that carries the clatter of hooves and antlers.
It is silent, hot as the sirocco
and cool as the wind that carries the aurora
in the flash of the startled butterflies.
The flowers fall around them, but are lifted up
as they rear, swayed by the motion of their bodies.
Their antlers rise, their heads lower --
Somehow, they scratch the heavens and the earth
and bring to them the scent of falling flowers.

((This has been an oddly intro-less visit to Seed's Poetry Corner. Collect them all!))

Writing

I wonder...

May 14, 2010 - 12:37pm — Sonata

If he misses me

as much as I miss him

Writing

Seed's Story: In Which A Question is Asked Repeatedly and Our Hero Arrives in the Setting

May 12, 2010 - 3:50am — Seed

The Distant Prologue

Seed's Story: Chapter 1
In Which A Question is Asked Repeatedly and Our Hero Arrives in the Setting

Seed sat beneath the willow at the place where the river widened out into the pond, looking along the edge of the shore. He wasn’t composing a diary or a poem in his head – but he was hoping, a little. The water stretched out glistening blue, sleek as rain dripping off the soaking body of a deer. Seed’s eyes focused, scanning for a body that could appear. He focused on a group of rocks by the lakeshore, a depression in the mud. A collection of dragonflies circled over it casually. He sighed. Things were so much happier, once. But he had always said that, except maybe when he was a fawn. And if he had remembered then what he remembered now, would he have said it just the same?

“Were things so much happier then? Are you happy now?” A voice formed out of the rustling of leaves in the breeze. It wasn’t exactly a voice – it was just a pattern in the rustling, a feeling shaking its way down through his mind.

“I’ve been sitting here too long.” He stood up and began to walk his way through the forest.

“Are you…afraid of your answer?” The trees stood like enclosing walls around him as they asked that. It seemed to echo strangely, so he was asked again and again, “Are you afraid?” “Are you?” “ Afraid?”

He paused his trot and looked up at them. His eyebrows, hidden beneath the soft near-velvet of his mask, lowered. He tossed his head, shaking loose a few purple flowers. Then he picked up his hooves and dashed ahead in a flying leap. At once, energy flowed into his body as he became, to the green landscape, an equally green flash.

Writing

Please...just one?

May 12, 2010 - 3:43am — Baal

Writing

drabbles/little gift-writings

May 12, 2010 - 2:42am — SarieBearie

[=10]just some short things that have accumulated over time...I make a lot, these are just the recent ones aha xD maybe I'll make some as gifttttss

R A V Y N N & J I N
[Ravynn, Saosin]

Her eyelashes, like spindles or thin fingers, brushed the side of her partner’s, a partner with a wreath upon his head, an endless sea of tines, and an inferno brewing inside of his eyes. And a very blue fire it was, colder and sharper than ice; the female was slight and angelic and beautiful, an ebbing darkness that moved forward and sideways and backwards at will, patches of flames burning near her shoulder blades and along her spine. Susano caressed her like one would caress a flower, knowing that the slightest flick of the wrist could cut petals in half or rip the stem from the earth. The Black Swan acknowledged the Red Inferno with grace and lust and dignity, never missing a step, perfectly in sync as they stepped forth, back, forth. In an intricate way, it was a dance of sorts, with neither of them ever straying or seeming out of place, perfectly suited with each other’s mindset and perfectly happy to be in the other’s company amidst joy and chaos.

More often than not it was chaos; they were masculine and feminine, fire and pitch, beauty and strength. Balancing the Red Inferno out, Ravyn was rewarded with protection and an eternal partner and a high bar of respect, while Saosin earned comfort and company by keeping the Black Swan as close and pure as was possible. Their relationship, though full of envy and passion and desire, also seemed to be deep and platonic, as if they very truly loved each other and found themselves within. With the blink of an eye, the bat of eyelashes, Ravyn had turned to her beloved and allowed him to warp his neck of fire around her. The patches along her back were golden and beautiful.

Writing

Every song comes to an end. +Important+

May 11, 2010 - 9:41am — Sonata

Such fear! such panic! surely angels felt less upon falling to earth!
He did not know what had happened, he had tripped over the small doe, and soon enough she had been upon him.
But, he had thought her to be such a gentle creature!

No time to think.
Cloven hooves of gold tore into the grass, the earth, sending it up in his wake as he flew over the ground, not fast enough, it would never be fast enough.
His chest heaved.

Blood trickled down one of his legs gently, but he did not limp, not yet.

the graveyard, the graveyard, the twin gods, would they tear his life from him as soon as they had given it?
No time to think.

No time.

No time.

He turned to face the doe, a rash decision, lowering his antlers though they were useless fighting tools, more for show than anything else.

Hunger filled her mind. this was the wrong time to have been passing by Aeis. Three days of not eating a single soul had gotten to her.

This Blood lust was overwhelming.

it clouded her mind her judgement. she didn't even noticed whom it was she had been chasing. she could only see red. Butterfly antlers morphed to sharp spikes as she grinned wickedly. when he lowered her antlers she knew it was to late for him it was over he was done.

she charged at him those antlers blaring straight for his flank. she wanted blood and she would have it.

The stag reared, no use as she came by, and he came down upon open ground uselessly, once bright hooves dusty, useless, even if he did hit her, why, what would the point be?

all the same he turned his head, snapping blindly, gods help him!

His breath came in gasps as he snapped, tensing himself, preparing to run once again, he could not fight this, he could not outrun this.

But in the name of the gods, he would die where he wished!

once more he struck out with his teeth, aiming for one of her back legs

She yelped like a stricken dog when he bit into her leg cause her to trip.

Writing