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Princess Moxie and the UsurperIt was a typical day in the Kingdom of New Underbed. The lamp was shining and the roof was open to an angle that some might call obtuse (although they'd be wrong; it was still just about in the region of acute - in fact it only opened to ninety degrees). The princess herself was lounging back upon a bed of towels and scavenged clothing, keeping a close eye on her many subjects. Squeaky the pig stood guard by the entrance, his voicebox torn out as a warning to the world about traitors and what she would do to them. A noseless lion cub watched his back with one and a half eyes (all it had), while a tiger with half a tail and a chunk missing from its ear watched its back. Sammy Spider, the royal fly-catcher, cowered in one corner. He was understandably rather anxious about moving while under her gaze.Princess Moxie and the Usurper by TheSkaBoss
Princess Moxie liked to think of herself as a kind and just Queen (even though she was only a Princess), whom all her subjects loved and adored. Her subjects always backed her up on t
ZebahIt rained on the night my brother disappeared. You might think that's not worth mentioning, but when you live in a desert rainfall is a huge deal. I'd never seen it rain before that night. Course, I don't have all that many years to my name, but my Granddad swears he's never seen it rain other than that night either, and he must be a thousand years old. What he reckons happened is, right, that my brother's disappearance is what caused the rain. Like he was some sort of sacrifice or something. He said it's what we get for naming him Zebah, but I don't know what he means by that.Zebah by TheSkaBoss
I'll ask my Mom later; she's the one who named him. She's busy taking advantage of the rain right now though; we were in dire need of it and she's storing as much as she can. I never knew we had so many containers lying around! She must have been saving them for quite some time.
Richard IncarceratedRichard 'That Weird Kid' Smith* was having a rough time of it. Stuck in his swank and roomy prison cell with its beautiful and luxurious furnishings, he brooded endlessly about all the brooding he wasn't being allowed to do. Day in and day out his jailer kept up a cheerful countenance, regaling him with happy stories, smiles and laughter that Richard returned soured, if at all.Richard Incarcerated by TheSkaBoss
The cheerful monotony continued unbroken for so long that Richard had completely lost track of the days by the time something new happened; a glowing parchment floating down through the air in front of him - seemingly from the Heavens, but if so he had no idea how it had managed to pass through the ceiling. Inspecting the seal, he found it to be one he didn't recognise - a triangle, with a perpendicular line jutting out in the centre of each side, and a crescent moon in the middle. Curious, he opened the scroll.
"Dear Richard Imperator Mortui: You've got mail. If you wish to read it, you must first register for
Long Bet"Oh, you poor, puny Earthling." I shake my head in pity and reach out to it, but of course my mandible just hits the screen and they carry on with their little dramas, blissfully unaware of my ever-watching presence.Long Bet by TheSkaBoss
I've never understood why they broadcast their ship's logs in this way. It surely can't be good for their security. My current leading theory is that it's a show of arrogance; a long display of their wit and bravery designed to both intimidate their enemies and show that they really would prefer peace, if given the option. Broken up into short 'episodes' in such a way as to make for easy digestion of the information.
I admired it, if I'm being truthful. I had fallen in love with this immature, playful species and their shenanigans. So much so that I had followed their signal here all the way from Phryllaryxxkilai, many light years away. I had brought with me many approximations of things I had seen Earthlings using on the screen - my way of showing them that I had read and
CSWW and the Bratwurst ConfusionThe angry mob of villagers was approaching fast, each brandishing an enormous bratwurst like a weapon. Cedric the seriously weedy Wizard was in big trouble. Drawing his own, much smaller, sausage from its sheath where his dagger used to reside, he pointed it in the vague direction of the mob and scrambled backwards onto his horse. His horse, just as weedy and wimpy as he was and very unused to its new role as getaway vehicle, bolted before he could mount it properly. He slid off its back and was deposited in a large mud puddle, just in time for the mob to reach him.CSWW and the Bratwurst Confusion by TheSkaBoss
"Oi!" the big, burly blacksmith in front shouted, "Cedric! You bloody great git of a bleedin' wizard! What the 'eck do ya think you're doing to our tools?!" He thrust the gigantic bratwurst he was holding in Cedric's muddy face.
It smelt of fire, and charred pieces flecked down on top of Cedric. He suspected the blacksmith had been in the middle of forging something when his spell had backfired. "I-I-I-," he stammered, and
Fail Guard DogSo, I wake up the other day, stumble along to the bathroom half-asleep and eyes half-open. Dog follows me, as always, as my moving has woken her up. Stumble down the hall, 'round the corner, down the couple of steps, past the stairs and the cat and...wait, cat? What? We don't have a cat. Open my eyes properly, turn around. There's a big fat ginger cat sitting on the top step of my stairs. Dog stopped a few paces back and is crouching down, sniffing the air and generally looking very confused about the whole thing. Cat glances at it for a second then stares rather non-chalantly at me. I figure (read:hope) I'm dreaming or seeing things, so I go to the loo, stumble all the way back to bed with my eyes still half-closed and get back in. Try to settle down and go back to sleep.Fail Guard Dog by TheSkaBoss
That's when the dog decides to wake me up by leaping on top of me and barking in my face, in an attempt to warn me about the monstrous invader in her home. Obviously, this isn't just a dream, and she won't let
No Ordinary ApplesErik stumbled blindly through the forest, almost overcome by his exhaustion. It was imperative that he reach the castle before dawn, to warn them of the impending attack, but if he didn't stop and rest soon he would surely collapse before he got there. His feet dragged with every step, his legs numb and heavy, resisting his orders to move forward. His joints ached, but he barely noticed over the stabbing pains of his poor, abused muscles. His chest heaved with every breath, struggling to get enough air into his body through a throat that was so dry and parched that every breath felt like sandpaper. His stomach was empty, a gaping black hole that threatened to consume his mind if he didn't consume something else first.No Ordinary Apples by TheSkaBoss
That's when he saw them; the apples. Big, juicy, red, and ripe, they hung suspended from the trees in front of him. Just when he needed them most. He almost cried with relief, but couldn't summon the moisture for the tears. He settled instead for plucking as many as his h
Billy's PterodactylsBilly was in what his mother called 'his dinosaur phase'. He'd been firmly ensconced in this phase for the past six months, ever since his Dad had taken him to see the Natural History Museum in Oxford. The first thing he'd seen on entering was the huge bones of the Tyrannosaurus Rex glaring down at him, and that was it; he'd been hooked ever since.Billy's Pterodactyls by TheSkaBoss
In the time since then his entire room had been re-decorated with a Jurassic theme. Dinosaurs were on the bedsheets, the curtains, the posters on the walls, and little plastic ones covered his floor to the point where it was dangerous to walk across it. Unless you were Billy, of course. No dinosaur would dare to harm Billy, who reigned supreme among them and controlled their every move. Billy was in his element and entirely at home within his dinosaur-infested room.
Every now and then the dinosaurs would venture outside of Billy's room, in an effort to invade and infest the rest of Billy's house. On one such occasion his mother inadvertently
InsomniaThe land of Insomnia is a dreary world, full of bleary-eyed Insomnians who drift through life in a haze. Their limbs dragged down by exhaustion, their minds clouded over with pain, it's all they can do to drag themselves into work every day before sitting in front of mindless drivel for hours on end when they get home. Social lives are unheard of. Proper entertainment is unheard of. Anything beyond mindless drivel would require a concentration that they just don't possess.Insomnia by TheSkaBoss
There is one story, though, that has been known to perk up Insomnians when they first hear it, to the point where they could almost pass as excited. A legend of long ago, its origins lost in time; it tells of a thing called Sleep. A magical spell that, after being cast on an Insomnian, causes them to be refreshed; to be filled with vigour; their eyes to open fully for the first time in their lives; the cloud that fills their minds to be lifted; and above all, to be alive in a way they've never known.
My Friend NatalieJoey led Cassandra down the stairs blindfolded, guiding her carefully down each and every step to make sure she didn't trip. He'd spent all day cleaning the house so that, unlike most days, the floor wasn't covered in his stepdaughter's toys. (Well, she would be his stepdaughter, if tonight went well.)My Friend Natalie by TheSkaBoss
"Are you sure I'm not about to step on a pony, Joey? I could've sworn there was a pony on these stairs last night." Cassandra had spent most of the day in bed and didn't entirely believe Joey when he told her that the house was clean and tidy.
"I'm sure, babe. You'll be fine. Trust me." He laughed as he said it, which didn't entirely help in getting her to believe him. "Just one more step down and we're done with the stairs. We're nearly there now."
"Okay. I trust you. Honest." She didn't sound it, but the excitement of knowing there was a surprise waiting for her set her off giggling as well.
"And then we just come round here, and round the corner and," He stopped her at the door
Silver LiningThe bedroom door clicked and Claire stared at it in silence for a while, not daring to move lest the rough fibres be dragged across her raw skin once more. She shouldn't have tried to do it, she knew, but she had felt obliged to. Felt that awful feeling of inadequacy mixed with guilt and fear that if she couldn't please him he would go elsewhere for it. It's not like I have to; not like he forces me too, she tried to justify it to herself, I just want to please him, is all. It hadn't worked anyway. They'd tried, and for a little while she'd been okay, but then she'd started to get into it, started to enjoy herself, and her nerve endings had fully awakened. She was on fire, and she couldn't help but scream about it. It wasn't a good scream, and he could tell. She'd tried to disguise it, tried to turn it into a scream of pleasure, but he'd known. He always knew. He'd gotten straight up and walked out the door, unable to deal with something that he couldSilver Lining by TheSkaBoss
Nine LivesI. He was a babe, mewling raw into the world. His surroundings were so bright he had to screw his eyes shut. She hovered over him, protective and apprehensive and fiercely happy at the same time.Nine Lives by ilyilaice
"Good morning," she said. The sunlight streamed brightly into the room, but he opened his eyes and looked at her thick blond hair spilling over his chest and felt her bare legs sliding next to his under the crumpled blankets, and he saw that she was brighter still.
"Good morning," he said, leaning over to kiss her pretty mouth. He could feel her lips smiling against his, and she held his hand even as he climbed out of bed to head to the shower.
She said, "You were muttering in your sleep."
He said, "Oh, I was just dreaming about my past lives."
II. He was a refugee, hiding inside a box that was his only defense against the rain falling down in sheets. He curled into a ball to keep himself warm, and watched legs go by, uncaring.
As they walked to school, it began t
Mega Contest!!!After a lot of bouncing ridiculous contest ideas around, TheSkaBoss and I have decided that we couldn't decide on just one. We have therefore taken our three favourite ideas and lumped them all together in one giant contest!Mega Contest!!! by KCarey
Idea 1 - Déja Vu:
It's happening again. Something happened over 40 years ago, and happened again today. How are they the same and how are they different? This can be a real or fictional event.
For example - Two pictures, old and new, side by side. A story that switches the point of view each paragraph. Etc etc
Idea 2 - Parallel Dimension:
Think back on your life. Find a minor decision you made (at LEAST two years ago) and undo it - choose something different. How many major life-changing decisions came about as a result of that one minor thing? What would you be like now had you chosen differently?
For example - A self portrait of the different you, quick explanation of the decision in artist comments. A story of everything that h
In These DaysIn These DaysIn These Days by majorkerina
I sat with my brother Eric on the couch. He wanted to see how the Lakers game was going. I wanted to watch the news. I beat him in a game of rock-paper-scissors.
He sighed as I listened to the latest report. Almost under his breath, he interjected, "How can you watch that alarmist shit? All they say is "we're all doomed!" Such bullcrap "
Eric was born last. He still had that look about his eyes from the days after high school even all these years later. By his age, I already had my masters. And my twin brother, Michael, was already three years dead.
So far as my mother was concerned, if Eric never left, never did anything other than be around her in this old house, then she was perfectly fine with that. I figured that was especially true now.
I rested my hands on my knees and sighed. I was tempted to flip over to the game but I wasn't about to just give Eric the satisfaction. I took a few moments to listen.
The newscaster, calm and automatic, spoke over helico
Tragic Killing is my business. And these days, business is good.Tragic by ChanChanTheGreat
That's not to say that I enjoy my job, but, well... it's a job. It pays the rent and it pays for two hot meals per day for myself and my family, it pays for my livestock, and it keeps me out of debt. And I suppose I'm quite good at it. I never miss. Just one clean cut of the axe through the neck, not too close to the head but not too far down, hard enough to sever the spine and break the connection between head and body. And accuracy is important; if I miss my mark, the blow is not fatal, and I must try again while my poor victim is writhing and screaming in agony.
Before I do my duty, though, I ask the condemned to forgive me. Some will, others will not. Each night I beg God for mercy, forgiveness, compassion upon my wretched soul. Does it still count as murder if the King has ordered it? The King is, after all, God's voice on Earth; am I forgiven because, however indirectly
GreyscaleInsanity is never black and white.
You don't just reach a breaking point and crack,
As if your 'sane' switch flipped from white to black
And madness took you over overnight.
It's more a subtle shifting in your sights
And thoughts that run a little off the track.
At first you plow on through, pick up the slack,
At first you know that something isn't right.
Subconsciously you bury it inside,
Put on a happy mask to face the world.
You act like nothing's wrong, you act alright -
Now 'wrong' is your 'alright'; you never lied.
You find your truth distorted, bent and curled;
To you your greyscaled madness shines pure white.
I Am The GhostI am the ghost that walks these halls,
The noises you hear behind the walls,
The swirls and eddies that chill the air,
The squeaks and creaks upon the stairs.
I am the presence that makes your skin crawl.
I come in the night when the darkness falls.
Black is my colour, and black are my calls,
Black are the shadows I always wear.
I am the ghost.
I am the thoughts you don't want to recall,
The ones you recoil from, shocked and appalled.
I am all of your secret fears and despairs,
Every anxious thought, every burden you bear.
I am the you that scrawls all over these walls -
I am the ghost.
ThecreeperHe comes at night when you're asleep
And dreaming pleasant things.
Outside your window he will creep
To watch your slumbering.
He hides whereever shadows are -
In bushes and in trees.
He spies on you from near and far
And with the greatest ease.
That eerie sense you're not alone?
(Thecreeper is his name)
The fear you feel in your own home?
(And creeping is his game)
The shadows in the night are his,
The darkness his domain.
But what you fear the most is this:
You hide yourself in vain.
He sees right through your flimsy screens,
With goggles that see heat.
Whate'er you try, he has the means
To render obsolete.
That eerie sense you're not alone?
(Thecreeper is his name)
The fear you feel in your own home?
(And creeping is his game)
|YES YOU! RIGHT THERE!|
If you're about to leave a comment I KNOW you can see this box! Stop right there and think about what you're doing! If you're about to thank me for something - DON'T.
Don't thank me for a llama, just return the favour.
Don't thank me for a fav or a watch. You're not obligated to return the favour either. But if you really WANT to thank me, I'd much prefer you take the time to read just one thing of mine. You don't have to fave it, you don't have to comment on it, just read it. That's all I ask.
FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS I WILL BE HIDING ALL THANK YOU COMMENTS.