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Chapter 5 - There Was a VillageAerth is not technically another world, it is a part of our world. Our world is not whole without Aerth, it exists inside the folds of everything that the Earth and its inhabitants are. And the life that exists on Aerth is like an aftertaste of the Earth's, a cobbled together approximation of everything that the Earth is. Simon says search your blood and find the island that holds each treasure of your being.
At first, the Great Cloxtel wasn't different from any other governor in the many thousands of villages on the Aerth. He wasn't particularly benevolent or malicious, he was just that typical mix of effectiveness and corruption that most people in charge tend to be. Nothing remarkable, just a good politician, and a decent negotiator. Governor Cloxtel was having a successful term, and his village was a very nice place to live.
There were three wizards that roamed through every part of the Aerth. They were the Blue Wizard, the Gold Wizard, and the Red Wizard. Each of them were of a di
Chapter 4 - There is an EmpireThe planet Kazel was the first to develop craft capable of moving at near light-speed. This was a stepping block to power, a leap that brought hope into the eyes of the Kazelteen Federation, a world government dominated by an amphibious species, who resembled a cross between a salamander and an ape. They were hunchbacked, but very agile and dexterous, and stood mostly upright. Their civilization held together as well as any could, there was poverty and injustice and crime, but there was contentment, and the Kazelteen people were altogether decent. But they like many other species were extremely prone to pride.
Light speed travel was a savior to Kazelteen and changed the face of their world forever. Especially once they discovered that there were many, many other planets with intelligent life in their galaxy, and even one in at the edge of their solar system. This was the first to feel their power.
Light speed travel freed the Kazelteen from poverty, and hardship, and even labor for the
Chapter 3 - There is a SwordI feel something warm and wet being pressed on my forehead as I wake up. There are three old men dressed in brown, wrinkled robes, with blue scarves wrapped over their heads and necks. I am laying in a bed, and as I begin to lift myself up they back away two steps.
"Where am I?"
"You're in the medicine center" one of them replied
"Oh, there's doctors on this island?"
"Island? What are you talking about?"
"I'm not on the island?"
"There isn't any island anywhere near here, you must have been hit on the head really hard, young man."
"No, no. I um, the last thing I remember was going through a door."
"Oh? What kind of door?"
"It was on the wall of a very small cave. I need to get back to my companion, he's probably devastated trying to find me. But, if I'm not on the island then..."
"He was on the island with you?"
"Yes, yes. I wandered away from him, I wasn't supposed to. I uh... Where's my belt?"
"Oh, you mean the rope with all the spices and tools in it?"
"We have it kept
Chapter 2 - There is a Door"Wake up, brother."
I woke up to see my companion's face above me. "We better get exploring early if we want to find food before nightfall in the process." He said
"Oh right, of course, brother Prempt." I grabbed his hand and he helped me up on my feet.
We were sleeping on a beach under the shade of a tree. Our ship had crashed on a small island, which was unpopulated from what we could to tell so far. There was a lot of sand and rocks, and there was a hill several dozen feet ahead which had a forest at the top.
"I'll leave that up to you," he said "To make for crashing the ship.
"Let's head to the forest at top of the hill."
"Don't you think it's a little soon for that? That's where we would head when we want to hunt, we should start with observation or reflection."
"I thought you said you were leaving it up to me? Besides, I'm hungry now."
"Well I'm giving you advice. I thought you had it in you to make a well-reasoned decision, I suppose not though. You can decide anything except fo
Chapter 1 - There is a KeyThe man removes his sword from its sheath, sunlight bounces off the steel blade, his work-worn hands clench the purple, gold-adorned handle. He lifts it up above his head, and thrusts it downward towards a young tree, slicing it in half.
The world is enveloped in white light, and the light fades out to reveal the woods again, where the man was. But the man is not there any more, he has vanished. The only evidence of his ever being there being the top half of a barely grown tree. Its leaves nearly all gone. Being jostled by the wind and disconnected forever from the still life its lower half still has. What is the life of a tree, what is the essence of a tree? What keeps it breathing?
The army of the Kazelteen Federation is stronger than ever. A race from a distant solar system, resembling a cross between a salamander and a large ape. They're too far from Earth to have plans to invade it, or do anything else with it. But there is a man from Earth that makes them nervous. And despite the
EmergeA hand pushing out from under solid ground
Reaching towards the sun
Tapping each other
Forcing a wrist out of the ground
Like a small tree in the fall
On the ground
A naked body struggling
Breaking through and emerging
Through the desert earth
Gazing into the sky
Sunlight causing the eyes to ache
The ground burning the feet
Soreness all throughout
Life born in pain
Life born in struggle
Life born lost in the light
The Great WarThe solid, jeweled star of Kolob stood for several decades untouched. It's palace lavish, it's weather serene, it's vision brighter than waking eyes. For dozens of years they knew no hardship or inconvenience, until some day the feelings slept from memory. Life was again an infant and days melted into each other like so much chocolate in your pocket. But Life knows that nothing can exist without perspective, it is an instinct embedded into the very stitches of all.
A shadow slowly panned over the city, shading the citizens from the sunlight that they had come to take to take for granted. The shadow creeped over the land until it enveloped the Palace. All looked up and could not comprehend the sight.
A vehicle hovered far above them, so large as to completely block the sun, grey with jagged lines, rectangular. A space ship. Everyone stared up in awe not knowing what they were looking at. Fear crept into their hearts, and they could not respond. A green charge build up in the
Raising a PlanetThe Kingdom of Kolob consisted of one giant building filled with various rooms that was carved out of a giant, cannibalized mountain, completely red. There were also millions of statues and uninhabitable structures that were built by El during his centuries of solitude.
After the birth of their twin sons, Val had decided that child birth was something she was not interested in doing again. Nevertheless, they loved their children with all their hearts. The elder twin was named Pisces, and the younger twin was named Lumen. The pair of them would grow into adolescence with no one but each other and their parents, and like any pair of brothers, they competed for affection. And though they were twins, they could not be more different, and because of this they felt isolated from each other.
Pisces was an introvert who mainly like to build things. He would spend days forming model castles out of the dust in the ground. He glowed with light like his parents and had flowing, long, curled hair.
the science of silence.your arms form a barrier, blocking out all sound,
there is nothing but you.
you are the only thing that
can make a buzzing fan
sound like a butterfly;
a creaking house
like a lullaby.
moaning wind and soft footsteps,
tickings of clocks, downstairs.
but you made it feel like a soft cocoon;
a weightless wall of something golden:
"silence is good in its absolution,"
The stormCartilage-smooth azure extends
above bent heads.
Furrows s t r e t c h b e y o
the edge n
My WinterCardinals will
from the branches like
and the sky will turn to smoke.
The ground crunches under your feet and its
Almost as if you could
across the ice.
Brandished behind screens of glass
are fists of ivory
They are covered in scratches and
from the dark like magnolia blossoms.
napoleon at sevenan old guitarist sitting
on a watercolor hill,
plucking on six strings absent.
two halves of breasts running near
under van gogh's starry night,
under black-white guernica.
everything in all jigsaws,
everything in trepid cubes.
a girl before a mirror
with violin and guitar,
sitting with three musicians
and a woman with her book,
stippling all realities
of intangible maternity.
hours yielding from dalí's clock,
minutes sub-the alchemist
like rain, like raining, like rained—
portraits wilt with abstract smiles.
clear sfumato, oh still life,
napoleon at seven.
The Vampire and His Servant I The Vampire and his Servant
As I fall on the withered ground,
I stare up at the darkening sky,
Tears pouring from my pleading eyes.
I want to be free from this hell
Light footsteps sound, stepping toward me.
I turn my head, slowly, the fear sending chills down my spine
Making my heart cold.
He walks towards me, his graceful legs carrying him closer.
His long black hair whips against his pale face
As a sudden wind makes contact with his slender body
As he reaches me, he kneels down in front of my crumbled body.
I flinch visibly and turn my head a
winter footnoteswinter footnotes
your elbows were anchors
in a softly-lit parking lot,
where you sang to glass and paper:
and your visions are quiet hills
your visions are shy sounds
your visions are sheep covered in frost.
like an old shoe-
that dry rasp
that leaves me covered in skin flakes,
brushed onto the wall .
I am the raised bumps in spackle-
ripped off with the sound of a poor phonograph:
in my chain link home,
a residual ghost.
losing everything i never hadit's an early morning as the sun is rising, stepping into my mother's room and moving towards her bed, careful not to disturb the dark shadows on the walls, or the lulling silence that's filling the steps between us, i ask her when she wearily opens her eyes, "why was i born?"
her face held no expression, and she didn't reply
she didn't reply
i might as well not have gotten out of bed today.
i might as well be -
and sometimes as i'm sitting in the passenger seat, i lose track of where i'm headed. i lose track of the fact that i'm moving, i'm moving somewhere slowly across a map. i'm moving with the world, and i'm just one person out of so many. so fucking many. i watch the rode beneath the tires blur passed us. i watch the clouds drift along with us, the trees look like ghosts. i feel the time move along with us, as the sun falls to the floor and gives up letting the stars take it's place. the moon has painted my skin white, just as i sputter out my words and let them fade
brushing the willow,
swallow many branches, while
brushing the willow
they hear the
scratch, the bark
at the back of your throat.
Scratch the bark,
they hear the
brushing the willow,
They hear the
scratch, the bark
at the back of your throat;
scratch the bark
they hear the
brushing the willow
satan threw me a slumber partyim tired
of you, and
im tired of
im tired of OCD,
im tired of poetry,
im tired of counting
and miscounting sheep,
im tired of losing my mind
to cosmetic con artists who make
more money than banks,
who make more sense
than a vending machine;
who make their mind up,
not minding their dirty,
oh, how i envy those poisoned Disney Princesses
im tired of blitzkrieg alarm clocks that snooze louder than me,
im tired of vinyl pinups (un)dressing up my hypnophobic lids
im tired of the poltergeist who keeps fucking up cushion clouds
im tired of my revolving eyelash nightmares opening too soon;
and im most certainly tired of the technicolor monsters
living six feet under my bed
the ones that scream me caffeinated lullabies,
beneath bedlam bedbugs, to scare me awake,
so i can daydream of dormancy
the next morning.
the crows have risen,
and the roosters snore
until i wake u
landscapes of my mind.
My eyes face forward,
but aim to pierce further
into some new dimension
where the air feels like
Treading humid corridors
I reach no bright light,
instead descending into
Watery home of
sprites too elated
or give advice.
"Rest here," they say
"Drown in your notions tonight,"
They said, "Your Imaginings,"
But, that water was too thin-
like light rain on a sunny day,
it had no respect for order
and wanted me in checkmate.
let the moment cease.
the image break apart
with sparks of blurred blue
and red seperation
and I am no longer there.
I take the upstairs.
I rest on
I say hello to
(But only if they do first)
My head flies.
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More