Features

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Mature Content

Brain RushA clock starts ticking
Somewhere in my head
My eyes grow wide
Like saucers in a china shop
Invisible hands ensnare my throat
I cannot breathe
My stomach lurches
As though someone has a death grip on my intestines
And in my head the clock is ticking
Like a leak in a faucet
Dripping steadily
In its own sick little rhythm
Time is running out
Every time we go outside
Someone plots to hurt us
We step out there and something wants to eat us
Shows me its polished teeth and takes a giant bite
Grinding all existence to sharp shards of dust
The clock is ticking
I want out
The room is spinning
I wish to get off
Please.
No one is listening.
Make it stop.
I'll pay you well.
I can't go outside because my head is screaming
The world won't stop because the room is black
The door creaks open
And the horrors sneak in
I'm glued to the floor
My jaw won't open
My mouth sewn shut
The clock is ticking and I can't get out In the DarkIt is calling me, beckoning me with its dark tendrils, but I run away as always.
I run trough the dark, searching for light.
But the light left me long ago.
I search and I seek, but the light, the hope is gone.
And i am not the only one.
Others like me run from the dark too, abandoned
Then I see light from above, and I am rescued from this darkness at last.
I can feel its warmth, its hope
but I am not the one floating to the sky on white wings
She disappears and the light is gone.
And I run once more.

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Broken On The Bathroom FloorI never thought it would end like this. Well, I did, actually. I knew it would end in some way similar. Death at my own fingertips. I am, was, the master of my own life. I can, could, control everything. I am, was, Alex Delfora.
Now? Well, now I'm laying on the floor in my school's bathroom. Now I've done some severe damage to my body and I've had warmth pooling around my arms for several minutes. Now I have my closest friend hovering over me, screaming, sobbing. Now I'm dying, and I couldn't be happier.
Well, expect with the circumstances and all. I stare blankly into the eyes of my heartbroken friend. She has been unable to move since she walked in. Her books splayed on the floor by her feet, some unfortunately landed in my pools of blood. I'll have to remember to apologize for that some other time.
I want to say something. I want to voice why this is the way it is. I know I have said enough in my rather lengthy letter explaining my actions to the one or two living family members I h What You Don't See CountsFor days I have ignored the darkness preying on my vision. But, now with my body pressed against his with a rhythmic sway I can't. A pitches, and I am down for the count. I can hear a string of cusses, before the outside world isn't exsistant to this form. Everything is dead silent for a moment. Then there is nothing but a blinding pain in my ribs. I scream out, there is no reason for it, I hadn't done anything, but that's didn't stop the searing pain or the desperate gasps for air. Even my nails begin to burn as I scratch the un-even concrete floor...concrete? Shouldn't it be marble.
"Eyes open! You are suppose to be watching me..." the voice is scratchy and hoarse, underlined by the sweet voice of a little girl. There is another sharp kick but this one to my arm. My eyes flutter open, to a somewhat dark room. There seems to be some light trickling in to illuminate the area. But for the moment I can't move, I can barely keep my eyes open. I am laying on my side, one arm painfully tuck

Mature Content

To Witches       Shadows blossomed beneath her feet in an alarming speed, fleshing out like bruises, dark and menacing. A reaction between shadow and flame that couldn't be understood by mortal scientists made a deep and airy roar, as the twisting and writhing circle of shadow held the crackling fire away from its master in whooshing waves outward. It was almost as if she sat in the center of a vast sunflower.
       Vicky sat on a lone barstool of red leather and wood, emerald eyes dancing with the flames. She held up her small shot glass, peering at the deep orange liquid within for just a moment, admiring how the flames seemed to intensify the color.
       She tilted her head back, shot glass in the air in a toast. Her lips peeled back, baring a grin with far too many teeth than could be considered natural.
       
      

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:thumb256614035: :thumb256782665: 666Four days, no sleep, might as well crash.
Plug in the clock, I'll wake up at twenty past.
staring at the ceiling feeling sick sick sick
the blood from my gashes go drip drip drip
Counting the tiles on the ceiling, it always adds up to 666
I know I'm fucked up but I'm not imagining this shit.
People tell me not to hurt myself but I can handle this.
I'm in control. Both demon and troll.
666 all over the wall.
I'm trippin'. I'm slipping.  Falling apart.
because the number six is always in the cards.
Break down, with spirits all around...
Tell me the numbers mean nothing.
Its just fucked up thinking, or something. (Its too late!)
I sold my soul (I'm too late!)
The fucking numbers swallow me whole.
The phone wouldn't stop ringing.
The id said 666 so I smashed the damn thing.
Goddess help me, I've fallen down and cried.
Please believe me I tried.
I smashed the mirror, because I kept seeing shit
bloody hand prints writing 666.
Now I have nothing left to do but slice the blade right InsomniacShadows laugh
in shallow mockery
I sit
staring....
staring....
staring...
at the wall
until it starts to bleed.
And I would
give anything to
take the agony
away.
Sometimes I begin
to believe
that bugs are
crawling through my
brain.
gnawing
gawing
chawing
at nerve endings
keeping me awake.
My nights
are waking nightmares
tripping through
a Salvador Dali
painting.
And I crave
only to
slip slip slip
away........
Forgetting
who is holding the gun?
Is it me
or the man in the mirror
who has been taunting me?
bang
crack
snap
Am I dreaming
am I sleeping
am I dying
at last......
(or just another deception) PuppetI am a puppet; a glassy smile etched on my face.
The smile is not my own; my emotions are hidden well.
Behind this face I wear lurk my true feelings.
My mouth is set in a snarl and my eyes are pitch black.
But I have no choice in what face I wear.
Just pull one of my strings, you can make me do anything.
Tug me one way, and I stumble along without protest.
I hate this life I live.
If I had my way, I would break the strings that hold me.
Snap them off my wooden limbs and throw them to the ground.
I could be free from your tyranny, be free from your rule.
And with this freedom, I know exactly what I would do.
I would crawl off this shelf you display me on, crawl down to the ground.
I cross the wide expanse of the room, my feet clacking like marbles against wood.
And in my hands would dangle the clear strings of my confinement, sliding gently behind me.
They too, long to capture and kill you.
We would climb up the pedestal you so proudly lay upon, unaware of your fate.
I could stumble acr The Feast, Part I.
The mistress of the house was good and kind, the way women in the books written about always were; pretty with that long black hair down to her waist.  She kept it down, sylvan looking thing that she was, but it went real nice with her fancy dresses.  Today, for the celebration, she looked no less breathtaking; she was pale, translucent, red and black and white. They even said sometimes, she was that lady of the legend, the poisoned comb, corset, fruit.  If that is true, no one knows for sure, but she would look the part more than any other lady in court.  
Now, the master of the house was everything she was not.  Harsh, rough, wizened by the weather like a tree.  Ain't to say he wasn't handsome, or youthful enough.  Nowhere near as young as she, but still ready with a ruddy smile and a tough handshake.  His hair was dark brown, his eyes just green as any tree in the summer right after a good long rain hits :thumb256189584:

Mature Content

Pain(We don't like it here)
(So please just spare one tear)
(Crying is useless when you are near)
(Do you like it here?)
[Instrumental]
[Verse 1]
I love the way you hurt yourself
Because it's like you're begging for my help
A slick disguise
In front of my eyes
Weren't you there?
In my prayer!?
[Instrumental]
Please don't go
I'll miss you bad
And I want to show
You all I have
Please don't go
You're all I have
Pray to the crow
But don't go, you'll make me mad!
[Chorus]
Take these broken wings and fly
You won't be off the ground, but you'll nearly die
Save the tears for the sweat and blood
'Cuz when it's over, it'll be a flood!
All the pain caused by demons below
Has me shaking with pain and sorrow
The tears won't come out, but the blood will stain
My love's holding me together with a chain!
[Instrumental]
[Verse 2]
The blood flows from your wrists
Flowing down your fists
Clench your teeth with the tears rolling down your cheeks
She's stealing the bread from the angels
She's making a scene an :thumb256164333: From the cradle to the drainFrom the Cradle to the (bathtub) drain
vermillion
stains the white porcelain
what a mess they'll find
you've arrived
come Undertaker
come to meet your maker
a sin
you'll be in Hell for sure
there's no hope for a conscious sinner
dirt
all we are is dirt
or dust
whatever you like
psyche
I don't believe you were crazy
everyone else was
bathtub
crawl inside this new tomb
a transporter of some kind
drain
down goes your life
sacred tint and wine
drowned
in blood and sorrow
and sharp pieces of skin
only god knows what else TrickedCan't focus
Can't concentrate
His scent is threatening to intoxicate
I can't resist and breathe it in
and feel a sharp stab
like that of a pin
I feel myself falling
i know it's too late
I died kissing my love,
my vampire,
what a bitter-sweet fate :thumb255853650: :thumb256181423: I Fell Into Slow-SandI sink into my chair
    As the music calms the
    Melancholy soul.
                    And
I sink into the Earth
    With snake-oil charms of
    Evil and Love.
                    While
I sink into Hell
    With two fingers rest
    Against my ironic face.
                    Then
I sink into despair
    When lights come on, and
    Eyes go out.
                    But
I still sink into sleep
    In my featherspri

Mature Content

Mature Content

Incomplete PrologueDoctor Harriet Gordon never thought the day would come when one of her experiments might actually succeed.  Gazing down at the blueprints, it almost seemed impossible.  She could just see the faces of her peers:  profoundly amazed, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, astounded at the scientific achievements—no, advancements—that a woman could make in just three months.  After those three tedious months of planning, gathering all the materials she needed—bones, tissue and hair samples, organs—to complete the operation, examining each little detail, it was finally time to test the results.  Everything was there; it was almost complete, almost perfect.  But almost wasn't good enough.
Doctor Gordon looked back up at the operation table.  At first glance, she was a stern, insane-looking woman, if it was possible to look insane and stern at the same time.  In actuality, she was quite sensible, even if

Mature Content

An Author's NightmareAn Author's Nightmare
-----
The inkwell has tipped and fallen;
Its black liquid seeps forward
To engulf the paper, the pen.
The desk is unable to hide
From the dark, soulless mess
And it creeps over the side.
Within it, millions of lives,
Alongside millions of loves,
All fade, none left to survive.
Characters die before they breathe,
and a melancholy ache screams forth,
for the creator has fallen on knees.
"No, no, this is impossibly untrue!
My life, my hope, my entire work?
All gone, not to leave me a few?"
His tears slip down a haggard face
And his shaking hands turn black
With such dark, despondent taste.
Ebony velvet continues on,
Engulfing all, leaving none. :thumb255734671: Succubus in the NightEmbrace the fear of the unknown.
The harrowing ring on the phone.
They want you.
You hear your pounding pulse all around,
But not a single other presence is to be found.
They hide from you.
Suddenly, scraping at the window!
Smoke comes into the room in a flow.
They are coming to get you.
You choke and you scream;
This must all be a sadist's dream.
They love you.
Falling to the ground in a crying heap,
You hear a voice so bloodthirsty and deep.
They want to drink from you.
Succubus to one they hardly know,
To your question of surviving, it's a no.
They will kill you.
Hands draping over you neck.
Across your throat, frigid fingers trek.
They feel you.
Breathe in your sacred scent,
On their goal they're hell bent
They can smell you.
Black goes your jaded memory;
It is time to find your divinity.
They almost have you.
Skin used as a spring coat;
Bones uses as wind-chimes on a luxury boat.
They finished you. NightmareThe floor falls from under your feet.
Vertigo grips your mind.
The dark consumes all that you are.
Spiders crawl under your skin.
Snakes poison your blood
As they try to strangle you.
You can't scream for help.
You can't crawl away.
All you can do is die.
The end is coming.
All is hopeless...
You wake up to the sun on your face.
You sleepily drag yourself out of bed.
The floor falls from under your feet. HorrorThey'd called him a pansy. A wuss. All those names that make your skin crawl because you just want to prove them wrong. You want to show them just how much of a wuss you are. So you do, but generally, it's not the smartest thing you ever do. You get your point across though, and that's what counts. At the moment anyway. Until, of course, you find yourself face to face with something you'd rather do without.
And so, here he was. Little Jimmy standing at the gates of what seemed like Hell itself. A graveyard. A patch of land devoted to the express purpose of interring the remains of other human beings. Little Jimmy did not like graveyards. Never had. It wasn't the grief that surrounded them, nor was it that he feared the dead. No, it was the quiet. The all-consuming silence. The kind of silence that lets you hear everything for miles around. The kind that makes every step you take sound a thousand times louder than it actually is. The kind that makes you run upstairs to the safety of you The Witch's DollThe Witch's Doll
It was a dark night, darker than any before that she had witnessed. It was a clear sky, but no stars shone and the moon was fugitive of the sky. It was fall, but no winds blew. Indeed, it was a strange night for Shelly Shire. Just the night before, the sky shone brightly with the stars and the moon laying a ghostly, pale glow upon the landscape. But tonight was different.
As she was looking out the window, brooding over this change, a light rapping was heard on her door. She took one look again out at the dark scene and went to answer her door.
She cracked open the door just enough to see who was the door; It was Richard, a boy about the same age as she, who worked in a nearby smithy. His face shone with excitement, though it looked like he had been running. He waited for his breath to catch up to him, "Shelly, come wit' me," he said still panting,
Shelly now opened the door a little further and came about half-way out, "come with you? To where?" she asked.
"To

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:thumb214666906:

Mature Content

Mature Content

Progressive DescentShe resides in the realm of regrets…
where every memory screams blame-
shame, she glows with it,
shining like a beacon of self-hate.
She swims in the sea of despair…
waves of hopelessness wash over her-
she has become a true pain connoisseur,
for she drowns in it, choking down agony.
She dances in the land of the dead…
pretty pirouettes spinning in her head-
she is dizzy with stillborn insanity,
quietly raging at a loss she cannot see.
She lives in the state of lunacy…
now she sees the devil in the fallacy-
what an enormous lie love can be,
open are her eyes, and it's a trickster she sees.
Now, she bathes in the blood of men…
wicked, hurtful they tricked her again-
she loved and lost her mind,
in her heart, it is death they will find.

Mature Content

Miss BellaveraHow did she die, the late Miss Bellavera?
Into her nightgown she wept
With satin stained doors and billowing curtains
From corner to corner she flew
Her silky bodice heaving as down the stairs she fell
Who could have thought such a bird
Would stumble and suffer so greatly
As miss Bellavera fell to the door
Sobbing, begging for someone's help
With only a night owl to hear her cries
Her villain formed in the dark hallway above
Enraged at site of her escape
He gave her everything a delicacy could want
Though miss Bellavera's body felt otherwise
Swift thrusts by night and ropes around her legs
This dark faceless looming man
Did not make satin walls and silky beds
Worth a moment's thought or gratitude
To her side he ran, his hands grazing her skin
"Shhh...." he said "your Daddy's here."
Miss Bellavera's tears fell ever so hard
As in his arms he cradled his beloved obsession
To her bed again he carried her
And upon finding her ropes cut through
His anger quickened and his hands grew strong
M :thumb194355554:

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RawEm0tion was created back in September 2005 to be a place for emotional poets to write their hearts out. Thus our slogan, "Straight From The Heart"!

They also release a monthly lit feature for their members. You can find the latest issue here: RawEm0tion - Lit Feature 5

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About Darkest Corners Lit || Affiliation and Feedback requests

<sub>Darkest Corners Lit was originally launched by namenotrequired and it's now being managed by TheWriterMirage and julietcaesar.


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Features

The MCVEPP project part 1
There I lay in the water too injured to move. Blood leaking out of my wounds, pain slowly leaving my body. Suddenly I'm scooped out of the water by a giant hand. I lay in the palm of that hand, it felt serene. Whoever was holding me was moving. It was a quick, careful movement. As if trying to get away, but at the same time trying to not break or drop the precious vase in hand. I was placed carefully on the ground. I'm a bloody mess of shrapnel tears and bullet holes. I was in such a critical condition, coughing up blood. I should have passed out over 30 minutes ago. But what I am keeps me from dying so quickly. Slowly life was fading from me, my body was going numb. Finally I opened my eyes and saw him there and I smiled. It was him, I should have known. I closed my eyes there I lay dead and dead forever, gone. Or so I thought.
But all of that is another story. Way ahead of everything that you need to know to
understand. Why don't we start at the beginning. My world is very different Dragon Lords episode 1Preparation
Note: I am going to speak in third person from now on and may switch perspectives midway. I will notify if I do so. And this is going to be more pictured as an anime, rather than a real-life graphic series with our world chroma.
In a burst of light the fight is over. Draavon is left on his knees, badly beaten. His foe standing just opposite of him with a sly grin of victory on his maw. The darkness surrounds them both and plagues the battlefield. Creeping and twisting along as it envelopes everything around it. "Okay Wayne you won. You are one tough rival", the man says standing up slowly. His movements still purged from exhaustion in his struggle to defeat his adversary. With a roar of triumph the Blackwing Dragon spreads his wings in dominance before re-folding them, and walking over to help his friend. "Next time you really should use your Dragon form Draavon", Gallion Wayne snorts and lifts up the man onto his smooth snout. Draavon pats and strokes his friend's muzzle s :thumb215300616: :thumb244446283: :thumb183147959: Gifted Lies 1Chapter 1
Trey walked into the city exhausted, traveling for a month just to get there. He squinted at the pure white marble mountains that the city was built into. Mountain City was one of the richest cities in the country of Shivers. It was also thought to be pure. He walked through the gates and was splattered with water. He turned and looked at the monk a little irritated. "Purifying your soul." He said in a calm tone. Trey just sneered and kept walking. He needed to ditch his things and go take a walk around the city. He walked by a blacksmiths and stopped. *I hope he doesn't see.* Trey kept moving. Yeah he was weird, he was albino, pure white hair red eyes but he had another little gift, he could read minds it was a dangerous gift but he controlled himself.  He needed to get his knives bent back into shape after being attacked in the last town.
The first town he went to he was greeted with pitch forks and torches. He wasn't all the way sure how they knew but they knew before he d Blaze 1 - The Strange ShopVince wandered down the street, bored. He was following the sidewalk wherever it led him, for he had nothing else to do that day… not since he'd finished what was left of his coursework anyway. He could go back to his home and study, but… he didn't want to. Not today.
The reason? He didn't feel like it. He felt like walking around the streets of Pittsburgh.
So, there he was doing just that. He, a black college student, hopped on a bus from Squirrel Hill, where he lived, and was now on the South Side.
Why had he come here, though? There was nothing here in particular that he knew he wanted to see, or place he wanted to be.
He felt like he was looking for something but didn't know what it was.
Hmm… I might as well head over to Pitt. See how everyone else is doing, he thought.
He kept walking, looking around. The feeling that he needed to find something still lingered within him, drawing him to do this. He didn't know where this feeling came from; it had suddenly come over

Mature Content

:thumb157590144: :thumb159873068: :thumb212873722: :thumb215180021: It's a Dragon's World Pt. 1                                                   It's a Dragon's World
                                                  Part 1. A Beautiful Transformation
The sky was very dark as I made my way to my brother's house. I was told that it hardly ever rains in California but this rain was cold, yet sad at the same time. Like how I felt. To me, it was like a signal of things to come.
My name is Titus Flamel. I'm a thirteen year old boy. My parents went missing less than a month ago. My grandp :thumb210899509:

Mature Content

The Shadows of Fire PrologueOne day, long ago, a book of undreamed power left the hands of the dragons and fell to a human who drew all her dreams in it. The book altered the child's dreams in to reality, so that she became a goddess amongst the new world she drew in the book. All humans' lives are short, so she decided there needed to be more gods to replace her when she got old. She needed to be able to trust them to guard the land from consuming darkness. The gods were all humans paired with dragons for protection.  When one god or goddess died a new one would be born the same time in the human world, the same worked for their dragons. There would always be at least four humans and dragons, two gods and two goddesses. There would be a god for each element, air, fire, water, and earth.  To lead the four gods, the creator decided to create a fifth entity, one of spirit.  The creator died before she finished the book, and the spirit lord was never revealed to us. So far, we only have :thumb209399839: CoR - Alt. Prologue     'Blood and fire.
     The dirt road ran red with blood. Thatched log huts roared with crimson flames, the evening sky above stained as if by blood from the guttering red sun. The raiders were obscured in the smoke spawned by the conflagration, their spitting torches a beacon to track the course of the chaos. Shadows flickered within the dark smog, shadows wielding swords tainted with crimson blood.  
     Keltir clansmen, women and children daubed bloody and screaming, fled from the wreckage of their homes. Horn-helmed Vikir marauders hacked down all that crossed their red path as they razed the village with fire. Left in their wake was a trail of blood and flames. Always blood and flames – always red. The soil itself turned red in the dying light of the day. The raiders spared no thought to looting the village that they had drowned in red blood and engulfed in red fire.'
  & :thumb208460370: Titan Magic Ch. 11: The General's Greatcoat
Tonight, no matter what the voice said, Madeleine Lavoie would not listen to it, she would not sympathize with it and, most importantly, she would not obey it. She gripped her sheets in tight fists and promised herself tonight would be different. These affirmations had become the bedtime prayer she repeated every night, while her mother extinguished the gas lamps and her brother tied her hands and feet to her bedposts.
The restraints were for her own good. Maddy understood that well enough. How could she expect to survive in the world, if she ever managed to escape? She was the secret disgrace of her family. Her mother refused to bring her out into society, not for cruelty's sake, but to spare Maddy the humiliation of failing to attract a suitor, wealthy as the Lavoie family was. "Madeleine the Mute" was what people called her when they were being kind; they called her "Madeleine the Mad" when they were not. They were right.
To ward off her loneliness,

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:thumb205563917: Indigo's Rose: Chapter 1Silent Nymph, with curious eye,
Who the purple ev'ning lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man... - Grongar Hill
Crab
Beauty. That is what I've always striven to preserve. The human body is a miraculous thing. Ingenious in design. A sublime work of art. It is meant to be beautiful. Health is beautiful. Even in the jowly depths of the old beggar, or the horse-nosed crone, there is a poetry to face and form. To its correct functioning. As a physician I have always admired its workings and warred against the ill humors that invaded it. In this waltz between birth and death my Caron had moved with unending grace. Then she had forgotten the steps in the dance of life. Something deep within had tripped.
Dawe turned away from his journal and took a deep breath before facing her. It was a mild spring day, with the mid-morning sun illuminating the bedroom in what should have been a warm and cheerful manner. Yet its golden hues only rendered Car Changeling Part 1It's not human. That was the only thing that mattered.
The infant lay on her porch, practically on the threshold of the door, in the early morning hours. She nearly stumbled on top of it on her way to the village well.
She stared at the thing at her feet, unable to comprehend precisely what she was seeing. It gave a tiny whimper and blinked up at her with its large, liquid eyes. Beneath the blanket wrapped around its tiny body, she could see its little limbs squirming. Trying to reach out, probably, for its mother's touch. Or her touch. Perhaps any touch would do.
A shiver ran up her spine as she took an involuntary step back from the baby. Her head whipped back and forth as she desperately sought for the owner of the infant. She saw no one and nothing. It was too early in the morning, and the other villagers had yet to rise. Dawn's light remained faint on the horizon. Nothing moved in the woods around the village, and even the birds did not sing. The baby's soft murmurs were ma :thumb196372204: Ravens Rest - Chapter 1Chapter 1.
Ravens Rest.
Drip - nine hundred and one.
Drip - nine hundred and two.
Drip- nine hundred and three...four...five.
The ever recurring monotony of hollow echoes from water dripping into a puddle would be enough to drive a lesser man insane, but not Draven Reinhardt. Born of Torne blood of the Keltir clans, he, like the rest of his people, was a hardened soul, accustomed to the hardships of life and death in a world where the only thing that was sure, was that sleeping with both eyes closed was a dangerous thing to do. Some might even call it foolish.
Others called it profitable.
Draven Reinhardt was living proof of that conviction. The outlaw lived the life of a wandering highwayman, robbing all those whose paths he crossed, or hiring himself out as a sell sword to the few men and women who would not do their own dirty work. In the current ambivalence of the Wroge territory, his business had been nasty - but growing in demand.
Life on the other side of the law had been progre Embers - Part IKate ran.
Her feet pounded on the cobblestones as she tore down the alleyway, each footfall echoing wildly around her. She risked a look back over her shoulder, stumbling as she twisted. Hazy orange streetlights filtered around the corner, but there was no sign of persuit.
Heart pounding and lungs heaving, she burst from the dark of the alley into the light of the street, stopping as her eyes adjusted to the wall of people in front of her. She almost clattered into an eldery couple, buried beneath thick coats and woolly hats, who tutted at her as they passed.
She looked left and right, wiping tears from her eyes. She stood on a narrow street lined on each side with small gothic houses, fronted by dark metal railings. A crowd shuffled down the street, seeming to glow under the orange lights.
Safety in numbers, thought Kate.
Still gasping for breath, she looked back down the alley. A shadow moved in the gloom. Her stomach tightened as – for a half a second – she caught a Moonlight Owl - Preface
Preface
            The air was crisp, cooling; it would normally be such a beautiful night-if it had been any other night. I could taste the water as I took each breath, I could feel the moisture in the air. I felt the atmosphere change, like it was getting ready to rain; and the ring around the moon told me that it would be a very strong storm. The darkness of the water almost made for a perfect mirror to the glowing stars above. I stared in wonder at the sky, but... my mind was not steady-nor was it as calm on this night.
            It seemed like I was running out of options, his words echoed in my head 'You can't change who you are, and they won't accept you... not anymore.' It hurt. Was I really going to lose my friends, it wasn't like I chose to be this way. I didn't want this for myself, why did it have to happen to me? I wiped the tears that slowly blurred my vision. The Hunt pt 1    It is a common occurrence that we at the Omega Private Military Corporation get contracts for bounty hunting, in fact almost daily when local law enforcement find the situation unstable enough, this is usually outside the haven of Solace the planet as to which the Sanctuarian Republic lays upon.
   My name is Joshua Kevin Farlahee, Sniper, Illicar or to you greenhorns a lizardfolk, and the nephew of my uncle Felix Jacob Farlahee who is a general now and is the leader of the Delta Force units of the Omega Corporation. I am part of Delta Force as to which we are the feared soldiers since we are the very best, the galaxy's feared mercenaries as to which we know what is right and just. Freedom shall prevail, and I will be one of many who will carry out that Duty.
   My uncle never thought it was a good idea, however here I am pulling my own weight with Reaper team, as I am writing this or rather typing this I am en route to a colony kno :thumb195816464: True Memorial Page 1Aishling stared out at the desert, a sense of uncertainty and curiosity fogging her brain as she failed to take her math notes. 'Is there really a sea of sand leading to the end of the world out there?' she asked herself, her teacher blabbing about variables.
"Aishling, when you add 10 to each side, you have 2X = 20. What should you do to solve the problem?"
'Hmm...Ms. Knoll's a history teacher, maybe she can help me...'
THWACK!!
A piece of chalk fell upon Aishling's desk as a small spike of pain erupted on her forehead. She rubbed it, mumbling to herself as her classmates roared with laughter.
"Maybe you'll pay attention next time! Now, anyone else know the answer?"
Aishling sighed, returning to her thoughts. 'At least History's next...'
"Ms. Knoll! What do you know about the village barrier?" she asked as soon as she walked into the small, brightly-lit room.
"We're actually having a lesson about it today, Aishling. Ask all the questions you want, dear."
With a satisfied smile, she to The Forgotten Fantasy: Chap. 1It seemed like I couldn't move fast enough. The guards were chasing me through the serene forest; I couldn't get away. I ran faster still, clutching the rolled-up map to my chest; it was a fragile piece of parchment, but I had shed blood to retrieve it.
My horse, Erhard, waited by the small creek that was the boundary line for the castle's land. I quickly hopped onto his saddle and dug my heels into his sides. He whinnied, and we were off, raced through the dark forest, darting between thick-trunked trees as Erhard's hooves thudded against the ground.
I couldn't believe my luck. I'd managed to break into a heavily-armed castle and steal a map. Not just any map, but possibly one of the most important things ever written on a piece of parchment.
I pulled Erhard, my white stallion, to a stop at the very end of the river  we had been following, where a small waterfall trickled gently down the valley's cliff, on top of which the castle of Prince Marlowe loomed in the twilight dark :thumb190311987: Amulets of the Winter Knight 1
"Amulets of the Winter Knight" is a series of non-sequential fantasy MMO short stories. Read as few or as many as you want…and in any order.
Herald of the Winter Knight
--------------------------------------------
"Tell me more about Goldennoon," the adventurer said, stroking his long grey beard thoughtfully as he leaned back on his staff.
"What?" I asked.  My "Hello and welcome to Goldennon. Are you buying or selling today?" line was originally penned to generate conversation, but only the locals ever want to chat.
"Tell me more about Goldennoon," he said again. Bani—she runs the booth next to mine—was giving him a funny look. Her customer, a woman wearing so little she could only be an adventurer, was pawing through a chest of valuable magic rings as if Bani didn't exist.
"Goldennoon started out as a simple farming village," I began, not entirely sure how to explain it to an adventurer.  "We really started to prosper once we learned to plant crops i

Mature Content

Punk Zombie Ch.1"Nana, Its time for you guys to get up, I made pancakes." My mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. I roll over to see my best friend, Eri still asleep which makes me smile. I have always envied her beauty seeing as how shes half Japanese, I wish I could have been even a forth Japanese but I'm half white and half black instead.
"Nana!, come on you guys before it gets cold!" My mom calls again This time waking up Eri.
"Morning." I say with a smile.
"Morning." She smiles back.
"Mom said breakfast is done."
"Pancakes?"
"Yeap, we better wake the others." I say as I sit up and look at our friends who are still asleep on the cots that are set up around the room. I throw my pillow at Layla who gets startled and falls off her cot.
"Oops sorry Lay didn't mean to make you fall out of bed." I laugh.
"Haha real funny." She laughs and throws the pillow back at me hitting me in the face with it.
"Hey watch it!" I laugh.
"Keep it down I'm trying to sleep over here." Ashley grunts.
"Its time to get :thumb233352892: :thumb161570057:

Mature Content

Eyes of the Seer - PrologueI spent the final days of my life alone, even though I did not know I was dying. Around me, the world seemed to be shifting. A cloud of darkness shrouded what had once been an ordinary existence and ripped from me everything I had known. For long hours, I would stand at work and stare at the people who passed me by as though attempting to figure out what changed and when. Little did I know what waited for me around the corner.
Granted, the final days leading up to the earliest hours of January 20, 1983 are somewhat of a blur to me. It might have been the enchantment I was under, or the haze of realizing I lived on borrowed time without knowing how I could be certain of such a thing. I could not tell you what those final nights were like, or if anybody could sense the fact that I was fading in the background, about to cross paths with destiny. About to slip from one skin to another. I only know that night, it all reached a crescendo and set me on the path I find myself today.
I have liv Missing Puzzle Pieces: IntroThe banging on his door and persistent buzzing were sounds he was trained to respond to, even from amidst the deepest of dreams. He was halfway out of bed before he even realized he was awake. Jamming the door release, the door slid open, tumbling the rouser forward into his arms. Still half awake, his brain didn't know what to make of the opposing signals it was receiving--the alarm was familiar, but it was Karina who had fallen into the room.
"Sam, please, let me in," she urged, pressing him backwards into his quarters and hurriedly slapping at the door release button, the frightened body language not abating until the door was shut, and even then, only slightly.
By this point he was aware that there was no alarm sounding, he was not being roused from sleep for a sudden duty, but by his close friend. "Kari! Kari... what's going on?" He had to grab her shoulders to make her look at him instead of furtively around the room; there was fear written in her face he'd never seen before.
"I :thumb204447045:

Mature Content

Peaceville -1Who knew a single night could hold so much beauty?
…but so much terror at the same time?
     The engine is loud in the still night, but the roar only adds to the excitement. Going on this adventure will be a finishing touch, the icing on my independence cake. Finally, I am away. Away from school, I am away from being controlled, and as much as it pains me and pleasures me all at once, I am away from my parents, rotting in their treatment homes.
     I've read history books about cold winters, snow, and global warming. Now, even in December, the night air is a brisk sixty degrees Fahrenheit. There is no fence in my backyard, and I take the ATV straight into the woods. They're thin enough to maneuver through until I find the trail I explored with my neighbor, Ash, earlier today. I drive and drive fast, throwing dirt around corners and shouting in excitement.
     It feels so good to be away from the World. I

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Love dA Lit

Do you want to find out about lit projects and contests around dA? Then you might want to check the lovely HugQueen as each Sunday she assembles a news article containing all the lit happenings around dA.
Here's a link to the latest issue
Love dA Lit Issue 37

Thank you!

Thank you for reading Don't forget to because the more people see this article, the closer we'll be to our goal!

Previous issues

Issue 1 - Dutch
Issue 2 - Songs & Lyrics
Issue 3 - Non-fiction & Letters
Issue 4 - Spoken Word
Issue 5 - Haiku & Nature related
Issue 6 - Short Horror Fiction
Issue 7 - Rhyming Poetry
Issue 8 – Six Word Stories
Issue 9 - Fantasy Lit
Issue 10- Spiritual Poetry
Issue 11- Scripts and Screenplays
Issue 12- All Short Stories

About Darkest Corners Lit

<sub>Darkest Corners Lit was originally launched by namenotrequired and it's now being handled by TheWriterMirage and julietcaesar.


Issue prepared by TheWriterMirage</sub>

Features

Mature Content

Crime of ExistenceThey treated you like a saint
They loved and adored you
Despite all the things you've done
They cast their eyes
Faithfullly upon you
Bloodied and broken
They gave into your manipulation
But I would never bow
And now
Now I've become the monster
Even as they looked up in horror
Upon seeing your true face
They never stopped until you were gone
Even as I tried to repair the damage
I am the one to be hated
A broken piece of you
Left behind to oppose you
And as I'm punished for merely existing
As I decay here
I know wherever you are now
More people fall on their knees
You thrive Suicide.One climb.
One jump.
One corpse. :thumb240779015: The Voice of the UnheardYou see my lips moving,
but do you hear me?
my voice seems to be unheard,
falling on deaf ears.
my voice may be unheard,
myself unseen,
but I am here.
I may blend into the crowd
and the room i stand in.
But breaking away from the blending,
that goal is the ultimate.
To be seen by the world
as a person who stands,
and is not afraid.
The person who makes a difference,
even by just being there.
The person that leads
just by standing up.
This is what the unheard want,
they want to be heard and lead.
but their voice fall onto deafness and dark.
Give them a chance,
let them stand out.
Give them the chance, and bravery
to do what they want.
Let them be seen and heard.
It only takes one,
to change everything TemporaryThe demise of a fellow companion
Is not to be perpetually lamented
Dejection is prevalent
Amongst those who have lost love ones
Acknowledge the concept of death
For it is just another constituent of life
So beautiful, so placid, so serene
Yet inevitable and able to be mourned
Occurs among all species
Immortality is an insurmountable obstruction
Never to be obtained
Fear for the possibility that it could be utilized incorrectly
Taken advantage by tyrants and fiends, taken for granted
But the water is meant to incessantly stream
Not to remain in the same place
So peer into the river of life
And embrace the methods
Cherish life as it is under summer skiesEarly June is an old wooden gate noiselessly opening
into a halcyon country garden ignited by dazzling colours,
where the deafening clamour of our hunted and chaotic days
is drowned out by the dreamy rustle of thick, uncut grass.
The canopy of ancient branches weaves a tapestry of dappled sunlight
ghosting over our bodies as we lie huddled over worn library tomes,
untangling knots of equations and fickle nuances of old, strange words.
Your shoulder brushes mine, my toes absently trace the curves of your sole
as you trail the haunting echoes of Nature caged in poems,
and I hunt for its deepest secrets enclosed in cryptic symbols.
The wind slithers unsteadily, torn clouds cast gloomy shadows,
a reminder of the clenched despair wrought by transient existence;
yet the sun emerges again, elfin rays easing hope across my bowed neck,
summer skies span your eyes, wash the weariness from my soul.
We close the hefty books as the afternoon fades to a distant sunset,
heavens and I releasing our ow :thumb240600754: MissingA teacher roamed
a child moaned
     one thing was missing
he's cheatin
she's leavin
     one thing was missing
she cried
he tried
     one thing was missing
he paled
they failed
     one thing was missing
he dies
time flies
     one thing is missing :thumb240881357: Through the FlamesEnvious smiles meet envious gazes
As the world keeps turning
Yearning
Churning
Hoping for the day we have what we desire
I'm dancing through the night
Wondering how it's possible
For so much hate and love to exist
In one being
For one being
My heart yearns for you
And yet I detest you
For everything you've done
For everything you are
Dancing through the flames,
Begging to get burned
Why do I torture myself so?
I danced a while and thought I'd be safe
I took a rest amidst the flames
And whilst I caught my breath
You burned me baby
Yet I continue to let my heart follow you
The way you made me feel
Electric sparks
Flames hundreds of feet high
In a simple touch
A simple fleeting glance
I look at you and wonder why
You look at me and wonder what you were thinking
I warned you of this all
You simply stated
"I love you to the stars and beyond"
And went to sleep that night
Was that the night you fell out of love?
Was that the night you changed your mind?
But I'm a thrill seeker baby
I'll dance :thumb240076124: :thumb240552636: :thumb239673210: :thumb240590998: Finale: Heartbroken TreacheryThe rogue did run
Through the night she cried
Her roguish ways,
A tender heart did Hide
She loved him so
But on this night her love had died
In arms of another
Her love she had Spied.
All that was left was her sisters
Rogues, thieves and criminals of every style
Their rules she broke,
But their broken sister they could not exile
The took her back and wiped her tears
Listened in silence, growing ever more hostile
When she finished her story
Each of her sisters grinned a very evil smile
They planned through the night
And even beyond the final stroke of noon
In was cruel and it was cold
This plan of theirs would be the end of this buffoon.
All at once they made ready
The stroke of midnight would be coming all too soon
His final chance to make amends
Would end with the rising of the moon.
The rogue wrote a letter
As silent as a whisper this trap she did deliver.
The directions she inscribed
Would lead her lover away and towards the river
To a courtyard, where her sisters wait
Their blades :thumb239378539: Her FairytaleShe was ready for her bed.
Face washed, eyes closed.
Outside it was shivering, harsh winds blowed.
When a noise arose from the dead.
She didn't want to answer the door,
She was scared and it was late.
But something made her swallow the bait
And creep across the floor.
The man outside was shivering cold,
There were pimples against the skin.
The girl took pity and invited him in.
He was a travelling singer, she was told.
The man seemed no to have a penny to his name,
But his looks were not mistaken.
Eyes that smouldered, hair that had fallen
Down his shoulders in a shaggy mane.
2 years on they were living together.
She was pregnant with a kid.
He thought it was his, but the secret she hid
Of the drunken night with another.
It had happened all so fast,
While he'd been rehearsing with his band.
And that little one night stand
Sealed the fatal clasp.
Once he'd found out about her affair.
The secret she had kept started hell
Because he had a secret as well.
He'd lay in the park, mixing gin w Down The WayYou are nudged, and then
Forced to wedge the blades of those shoulders, your shoulders
Against the hard, straight-backed bench
To listen to the clunk and dying conversations around you,
All the while in our corner the wheezy cigarette smoke
Blossoms and everything becomes so, so small
As more arrive through the alcove and passed the dance floor.
A growing electric hum blithers around us
As people are shifted into all directions, the couples
Wheel each other across the room, shadows cast in unspoken mirth.
My mind is so tired and stale and cynical
Indifference becomes inaction and suddenly,
Resentment.
Resentment towards the forgotten and the forsaken
And everyone else that seemingly enters sight.
Why am I here?
Pour us another drink. Bedtime StoryThe days grow long and the time runs out
Who's gonna come to save you now?
Your break lines are cut and your gas pedal stuck
You're screaming help but I don't know how
It all started 20 years before your today
And it all comes to ruin 12 years past
The story's ever written never spoken always changing
This story is one that'll last
The story never ends
No, it's been written since it began
It started with a whimper not a bang
And now its blowing up directly in your face
-----BOOM-------
Is this what you call fate?
Is this how you want it to end
No, it'll just start all over again
And the story never ends

Mature Content

:thumb228166983: The Girl On The RoofThe Girl on The Roof Top
The small girl sat on her rooftop and began to think.
She thought of the boy she met.
He was charming and the poor girl fell hard and fast.
"I love you," She told with her whole heart.
He replied a month later with a new girl and no memory of the girl on the roof.
The girl sat on her rooftop and began to sigh.
She thought of the boy she met.
He was sweet and funny and the sweet girl embraced an old feeling.
"I love you," She told with her whole heart.
He replied five months later with chains on his arms and tears for the girl on the roof.
The girl sat on her rooftop and began to cry.
She thought of the boy she met.
He was good and kind to her and the lovely girl was swept off her feet.
"I love you," She told with her whole heart.
He replied a year later with "I love you too" and "I'm sorry" as words for the girl on the roof.
The small girl sat on her rooftop and began to break.
She met a boy.
He was quiet and different and the beautiful girl began to fall.
"I w The Golden GirlThere once was a girl with golden curls
Who lived down the country road.
She smiled a lot and lived with what she got.
She adored it when it snowed.
"Her little head," her father said
as he babbled to the Chief,
"Was filled with fluff and gentle stuff,
I can't imagine why she'd leave."
"Well see," said the Chief, "it remains to be seen
If she left of her own free will.
The signs weren't good from where I stood,
But we'll keep looking for her still."
Soon it was obvious that the previous positive
statement was completely false.
They found drag marks and blood and whatever else there was.
It quickened the father's pulse.
It was late in the day and few had stayed
To pursue this cooling case,
When a man cried out with an excited shout
"We're now ahead in the race!"
The Chief scrambled over to his panicking brother,
"What, exactly, have you found?"
"It's a shoe print, Chief, and it's deep as you can see!
Over it I stumbled to the ground."
"You clumsy fool, you've found our first clue!"
Crie :thumb229412238: :thumb227601897: Where were you?I don't want to hear your words anymore
You think that you're horrible?
Look at me.
I don't want to repeat myself to you anymore
You think that you're terrible?
Listen to me.
You don't want to scream at night anymore
I think that you need me?
I looked at you.
You don't want to burden me anymore
I think that you are insane?
I listened to you.
But...
Why don't you trust me?
Why don't you listen to me?
Why don't you look at me?
Why do you just fake a smile and walk away?
I can't take it anymore.
I had to watch as you suffer
I stood by while you shed tears
I listen to your sorrow
I am always here.
So then, where are you?
Where were you when I screamed?
Where were you when I cried?
Where were you when I complained?
Where were you? Giving UpSometimes I pray that I can die
I want this life to end
I cry because I want to kill myself
And I cry because I can't
I know there are people out there
who have harder lives than me
This poem is for us, with hard lives.
People who have had their bodies used
for a pleasure not their own
Just as it has been done to me
People who are lonely
even though they have friends
friends who dont seem to want to
reach out and help
Just as I have felt
People with parents who find them
"useless" or "not good enough"
Just as my mom has told me.
People with parents
who get drunk all the time
making us worry
when they never come around
Just as my dad has done to me
People with siblings
who make fun of us
laughing at us in front of their friends
Just as my sister has done to me
People who have lost loved ones
People who have been heart broken
People who have been injured serverly
People who have been harrassed
People who have been beat down
People who have felt low RequinitiveSeared by the Sought
Slathered in Secrets for Naught
Slipping Spades down my Throat
Hate inseperable from my greatest Hopes
Do as I wish
Do as I want
Do as I choose
And face the Consequence
It's not Fate;
It's what I Activate
I am the Master of My Self
The lesson in the Book by My Father Himself
Lightningbolts from God's Dirty Bluejean Pocket
No longer the Capricorn holding the Locket
Striding with Thunder in our Mouths
Gliding on the wings of the glorious sounds
Geminitic Wiles of Splitmind Fire
Twinsharks Revolve around Revolvers
Cracking the seams of the mechanoid solder
From the Ghost in the Transistor
To the one who calls you Sister
From the Banks of the River
To the Meaning of a Giver
Twin Yggdrasil Caught in the Firespill
Building Back the buildings that took our hearts and souls to Build :thumb217091314: It's ChemicalHeart or hormones?
Glowing silence, spinning darkness
Loyalty or -
Lips
- From collar bone to blue jean fly
Ink smeared down my legs
What author's fantasy is this?
Heart or hormones?
In all logic, the heart can't feel
So it must be the latter
At the last moment,
You grew bored of me anyway (the way you think I did of you?)
So I up and left and closed the bedroom door behind me The Girl Who Sits in the BackShe's got
Avocado lipstick
Kissing out words that stay in the minds of those who hear them
She wishes she were out in the rain
Catching drops in her mouth
that fall from the salmon-colored buds
of spring's earliest tree.
Professors speak to her, spraying saliva,
and she pretends it's the
Splash of rain
From an open window.
Outside, the cars have become ocean carriages,
swiftly spreading creases in the water,
Making waves rise around them, full and white like lace
Behind glass windows,
Made of rain jewels and diamonds,
She eats Airheads that are overly sweet
They make her sweat, and her throat sting.
And like the waves in yellow grass on a windy day,
The rain sweeps and swirls over the roofs. :thumb216884713: :thumb216919410: Stay, Crazy Diamond.
"But, at the end, Syd didn't go away.
His name
was a rock trapped in notes,
or feathers carry by melodies.
He was always there.
In every single note,
in every little wail,
in every deep word.
He was there and he remembered to everyone
the reason way he opened his eyes;
his two endless stars
that became two black holes
but that now are shining in the sky
with him" FantasizeI have always been the girl
who went around preaching about how to be a lady,
but you have always been the boy
that I would do anything for.
I am creeping on your friends,
and reading all their nasty comments about
how you treat your girlfriend,
and she is cowering behind them,
probably kissing a girl wearing an August Burns Red shirt.
This has turned into something I don't think you like.
I close my eyes
and fantasize...
I'd say to you
Don't worry
all you have to do is run.
I'll meet you in the place
that only you and I know.
Don't beg
or say a single apology,
your wasting time with her
when you should be with me.
She walks up with her arms crossed,
wearing a face that looks like she's responding to an allergy
and I am watching from a distance,
because my presence would be frowned upon by your lovely lady friend.
She parades by your side like a ball on a chain.
But I know you wish you could see,
those pictures of me.
You do.
Don't worry
all you have to do is run.
I'll meet you in the YS HaikuBill
Brown hair and blue eyes,
named after a veteran,
his name is William.
Found as a baby,
raised by Ellis and Zoey,
he is the leader.
Ace
Shaved head and brown eyes,
named after a poker card,
Ace is the guy's name.
Born after William,
raised to be tough like his dad,
he is the muscle.
Cory
Black hair and brown eyes,
real name Cornelius,
Cory knows the score.
One year less than Bill,
raised to be intelligent,
he is the big brains.
Claire
Brown hair and blue eyes,
named after miss Claire Redfeild,
Little Miss Claire Mech.
The youngest child,
Bill's tiny piano playing sister,
special little girl.
Josh
Brown hair and green eyes,
his real name Joshua,
poker playing kid.
The fourth oldest child,
born two minutes after sister,
just like his father.
Ron
Blond hair and green eyes,
named after Ronald Weasly,
invincible kid.
Second oldest child,
indestructible like dad,
like his awesome dad.
Amy
Black hair and brown eyes,
real name Amelia,
the lead singer.
The third oldest child,
unidentacal tw Step Down lyricsI'm sitting down
It's the middle of the night
I'm sit-ing down
reflecting back on life
I had a story
that I tried to write
Every verse I reherse
I let my mind come clean
let loose the feelings
that dwell up inside
If I stopped writing for a moment
my heart would eat me alive
If I stopped living for the feelings
I wouldn't be up all night
but I'm finding ways
to shed some light
on what I want, what I need,
too many desires
I used to write on my arm
I've spend nights in a van
I've gotten rides from the bus
and I've lived in the stand
I've pick pocketed for cash
and I've stole my fair share
but one things for certain
I want fame
cause I'm not already there
I want to see the lights
I want to be on tour
show you my record deal
and your blastin my words
I want to prove you wrong
and slap my fame in your face
Like a bullet to glass
my shards will leave a trace
I want to be outside your window
as your driving your car
All I ever wanted was for you to see me
but I was asking too much
You told m sand bar(ge)this is a sea-born confessional,
a hull carved from circumstance
and oars in an ocean of
four-letter laughs.
there are no promises here –
just the bitter tide of honesty
and the quiet swish of desire,
the inexplicable disease that is hope
riding on tides that the moonlight
puppeteers,
six friends and four boats
pushing relentlessly against
insurmountable currents.
we paddle across to shore to find
the things that we love
in horseshoe crabs,
and leave lies on the island
to find their own way home. Keeper of Wordsmy skin is made of paper
ink runs through my veins
each breath i take
adds a new water stain
my mouth is a gate
through which words flow
like water through a river
that never seems to slow
i sing words of fire
from my soul to the page
and they dance across my paper skin
like my body is their stage
oceans of adjectives
mountains of nouns
they stream from my hands
from my brain moving down
i dream of my words
on my skin here they sleep
and the ink in my veins
reassures me they'll keep
i'm a keeper of words
of beginning and end
i spin stories and tales
i'm a legend's best friend
i'm ink
and paper
and stories
and more...
the words live within me
trapped by only a paperskin door
-Kas 22. The Old DaysI remember
like it was yesterday.
Meeting you,
becoming friends with you;
you changed mylife.
The beginning of us,
was epic.
We were a force to be reckoned with.
Becuase when together,
there was nothing we couldn't do.
But unfortunately,
you must not have seen it that way.
Those were the old days,
these are the news days.
In the old days,
I was your friend,
and you were mine.
In the old days,
we'd do anything for each other.
In the old days,
we were inseperable.
I realize that things change,
but why did I miss this drastic change?
Where was I
when this friendship evidently fell to pieces?
Why wasn't I there
to try to fix it?
Now it's too late.
I missed the chance.
Now, I'm your friend,
but it's like you don't know me.
Now, I try to help you,
but when I need you,
you'll talk to someone else.
Now, you do all you can
to avoid me completely.
You cling to other friends
who you've come to love more,
treat better,
want to be around,
and go out of your way to talk to.
What you've yet to The Perfect Skipping StoneToday I spent some time
On the edge of the stillest stream
Thinking thoughts
And skipping rocks
And dreaming many a day-dream.
The world was empty by that river
As I sat there all alone
So I spent my whole day searching
For the perfect skipping stone:
Thin but not too light
Smooth but not too slick
Round and very flat on top
Without a single nick.
The sun went down and still I skipped
Moving across the shore
I sat and skipped and
thought some thoughts
I hadn't cared to think before.
"Go out and find yourself," they said
"Spend a night out all alone."
It's hard, but I'll probably find my soul
Before the perfect skipping stone The Lost Sun ChildWithin linked pages,
A fiery frame runs, shimmies and springs to nature's drum.
Dreaming in a haze of all things fun, relaxing and bright.
A gypsy to Realism and a soldier to Dreamland is she.
Uniformed in invigorating sun beams.
She rides the wind on petals.
Aimlessly & regardlessly,
Moving where ever Mother Nature breathes.
Her mind retired,
disconnected from turmoil.
Loyal is she only to her resolve.
All shadows dissolve at her appearance.
Always entangled in rainbows.
Everywhere she goes,
The air relaxes and glows.
Though, she mismatches with her scenery.
The sun no longer smiles.
The clouds have blinded the sky.
The land has gone bald.
Depression, a present sent from Mother Nature for all.
Decapitated buildings, misdirected feelings.
Colorless waters, preying figures.
Upside down faces with ghostly gazes.
Corrupt laws written in blood red ink.
The ink that has drawn her chains,
Is beginning to re-paint her carnation petals.
Her golden road is becoming coal.
This re-occurring fate A Sweet Poison
A little, broken butterfly once landed on me.
He whispered dreams and hopes I thought to be true.
He stayed on my shoulder, growing bigger everyday,
Until no longer a butterfly, but a horrid creature.
It had been eating on my heart, feasting on my hope;
Destroying me with every sweet, poisonous whisper.
He left, leaving me behind to curl up and die in shame,
Slowly I did, drifting away to the heavens in new peace.
I watch out now for others, so they won't be influenced
By the sweet, poison of the little, broken butterfly. :thumb203087669: :thumb199379273:

Groups

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This group is designed for writers looking for constructive criticism, writing tips, and encouragement. A place for those truly wanting to improve their skills. We can all benefit from positive feedback and become better writers with one another's assistance.

The Writer's Meow showcases everything from fiction and fan fiction, to poetry and songs, to nonfiction articles and essays. Seasoned writers and novices with a dream of writing are encouraged to join.

The Deviant Short Fiction Project

As stated in their article and related links:

We will be putting together a collection of short horror stories written by authors from deviant art. The idea is promotion, publication and distribution of otherwise unknown authors to get them out there and get them read by the masses. Through Deviant Art - a community that houses artists from all over the world - this collection has the potential of publishing authors from all over the United States as well as the World. The awesome thing about that and what makes this better than your typical magazine or ezine publish is that through these ten to twenty authors from all over the globe, the writers can potentially get a better distribution, exposure and recognition than they could through a small press magazine. Just think of it. Each author sells or gives away copies of the book, promoting their own work and in turn promotes all authors who have something within, spreading the collected works of all involved around the globe. This project is about finding a voice for the unheard horror authors here on deviant art.

For more details check:

The Deviant Short Fiction Project News Article
*joseph-sweet's Journal
dA-Morgue's Blog
pullingcandy Louis-Cyphre joseph-sweet

Thank you!

Thank you for reading Don't forget to because the more people see this article, the closer we'll be to our goal!

Previous issues

Issue 1 - Dutch
Issue 2 - Songs & Lyrics
Issue 3 - Non-fiction & Letters
Issue 4 - Spoken Word
Issue 5 - Haiku & Nature related
Issue 6 - Short Horror Fiction
Issue 7 - Rhyming Poetry
Issue 8 – Six Word Stories
Issue 9 - Fantasy Lit
Issue 10- Spiritual Poetry
Issue 11- Scripts and Screenplays
Issue 12- All Short Stories

About Darkest Corners Lit

<sub>Darkest Corners Lit was originally launched by namenotrequired and it's now being handled by TheWriterMirage and julietcaesar.


Issue prepared by TheWriterMirage</sub>