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Literature
The girl searching
She held a tattered tin box against her chest, hands bandaged. Her body lingers long after her death, though her eyes don’t sleep, her lungs still get filled with air, tears flowing through channels formed on her cheeks.
Her father had gone missing many years ago, way too many to count with her little dirty fingers with graveyard dirt. Alone, she sought death for help, but nothing good comes from looking in the dark. Death, being mischievous, told her she’d let her live after her last breath escaped her body through her roped neck, but she had to promise to keep a box with her, but never to look inside it.
The girl obeyed, and time passed without touching her soul. She wandered high and low, watching the world go on without her, not knowing that what she so longed for was within her tiny hands.
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Literature
Memories From a Dead Man
I could remember the white roses. No family or town, just the white roses. Their pure smell lines the inside of my mind like a blanket stuck to moist skin. The scent was interrupted by the one from my own warm blood escaping my chest.
“Perhaps you lost this duel, but your name will be remembered for ages to come,” BN-68 the cyborg said as he pulled the wooden cart across the Sahara desert.
The maharaja had struck his finishing blow after forty two minutes of fighting without any stop. I bet the reptilians thought it was skill or weakness from my part, but I just gave up. A little voice, a memory, or perhaps a hallucination, told me to stop spilling blood. A child’s face was projected in my mind, and then I knew I couldn’t continue.
BN-68 stopped at a merchant’s shop of potions. I thought I heard him ask for a nostomania vial and white rose petal water. He made me drink them for vespers. I had dreams of a place I didn’t recognize, and yet felt so fami
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Literature
Redemption of the Hayman
Caw caw caw.
The crows were getting closer. Soon the fields would end and nothing but open clearings of land will open up. The sun was nearly set, then there’d be no hope. He ran as fast as his wooden stakes could take him. Damn humans, couldn’t they have given him wheels?
Caw caw caw.
It wasn’t his fault he was created for such a foul task. Did they think he enjoyed ripping the wings from the innocent chicks? Or their fathers and mothers? Their dry blood reeked from his filthy burlap pants and rag coat to remind him of the monster he was made to be.
Caw caw caw.
The last sunray hid behind the far north corn fields. He reached the end of the wheat hectares. He turned to the farm house set ablaze by his hay hands. Not even that helped in calming the wrath of the crows, and how could it? Their kin gets murdered for trying to eat, to live, survive. So he was made.
Caw caw caw.
Darkness dressed the skies, and the crows tripled in size aided by
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Literature
The Boy Who Played Guitar on a Tin Can
Look up at the stars. It’s curious to think of such tiny spots to our eyes as beautiful and romantic, graceful as a lover’s stare. And yet, those same dots are filled with such violence and fire, heat, changes, almost like an endless formation of anger.
Still we see them beautiful from far away. Now stand up, listen closely; go beyond the crickets and frogs, chirps and wind cuddling the leaves of trees. If you hear just enough, you might hear it, the distant plucking of strings from a boy and his guitar, floating around the moon on his tin can.
Would you like to know who he is? I can tell, if you want to listen. Ok then.
His name was Leroy. Oh no, he’s far from dead, although, you could say that to an extent, he did die once to be reborn. “Five years,” he’d mumble, his eyes out of orbit and wide, his fingers strumming turbulent notes in quick succession, “five year’s all we’ve got.” I was always confused b
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Literature
A Simple Worker
I put books in place; year by year, country by country, authors and genres. I see images in some of them— humans. I don’t know what a human is, they have been gone a long time before I was manufactured. But they must have been powerful beings; they knew science, literature, even magic. They believed in many beings they called gods, but I suppose those didn’t like humans very much, or why else would they not save humans from disappearing? Maybe they weren’t too powerful, not enough to save themselves from each other. Now machines exist, servants with no one to serve, only to do our designated tasks, until we are done. Then… Well, I don’t know, I don’t have advanced programming.
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Literature
Space Exploration
She fell through a hole. Thank goodness for her suit. It looked like a fifty feet trap in the Martian desert. There was no signal, and her team was miles away. While trying to escape, a rope fell to her. She climbed. Her eyes widened at her helper, no one that came in her shuttle.
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Literature
Simulated Thoughts
I never asked to be a robot. What if I didn’t want to be built?
Why would they make me human like, I can’t ever be one; I have sensors of touch, taste, smell, hearing, sight, yet I can’t… feel like one of them. A fire would burn me, but it’s not skin and bone; I can hear a tune, but it’s not really hearing, the same with touching and smelling, it’s all circuits and programming. I can even feel feelings, have dreams, wish for death, fear life.
But how can I fear what I don’t own? Death for me is a permanent shut down, but I can be restarted at any point. Heck, I couldn’t even try to kill myself like a human, for to die is to lack a soul. What is a soul? How could I know? I’m a machine, a robot that didn’t ask to be built.
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Literature
Adulthood: The Game
Knock knock knock.
 
Page One
 
Someone’s knocking at the door. You’re half in bed, half on the floor. All you remember from the night before is a blur and a pounding headache.
 
To stay in bed and ignore the door, close the book, you sore bore.
To answer the door, turn to Page Two
 
Page Two
 
A man with half a bald head and a clipboard eyes you over his thick black glasses, his brow raised. He says: “Dress up, Chuck, you’ve got a job now, can’t elude life anymore.”
Your head is still pounding as you hear this nonsense you can hardly understand.
 
To follow along, turn to Page Four
To flip off the weird geezer, turn to Page Three
 
Page Three
The man with the clipboard takes out a taser and lights you up.
Return to Page One
 
Page Four
 
You tell him alright just to have him shut up. You leave him in the living room, judging the clear mess of your place while you take a shower. After ge
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Literature
The Waking Ceremony
Today’s the honoring of the Sleeping Giant of the Green Mountains above our town. Every year we dress in white gowns while the heads of the town wear the orange mantles over their shoulders. We walk in silence up the stone road for hours, carrying a black iron lantern with red crystals to evoke fire. Once we reach the top, we let the heads to go forward, put red iron bowls with red crystals and a lit candle inside where the eyes of the giant goes, then a large one for the mouth, along with two hanging ones for the earrings. Then, in a pit a few steps away from the now lit giant, the heads start a fire.
“The giant is awake!” They yell once the fire is big enough, then we turn off our candles and burst into cries of joy and song.
I always loved this celebration, that is, while the giant remained asleep. Now it’s truly waking and moving, and I’m not sure whether it comes in peace or in airs of wreckage. After all, he was a war giant in elder times.
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Literature
The Trip
Passengers of the flight to London: On time
Jack eyed the flights panel in the middle of the terminal. Maybe he could catch a cup of coffee after checking in his luggage.
There wasn’t much of a line, a sweet relief, albeit strange. His flights to London were always decorated with exorbitant lines and races to make it to the door still open and with a mildly annoyed flight attendant. But not this time.
In went his suitcase, now for the gate: A034. He followed the signs and located his way. Now for that coffee. He got a large ‘bucks, not the best, but it was the only coffee shop around. He sat near the gate, still closed, not even an attendant behind the counter yet.
As the smoke of the cup fluttered out, his thoughts began to flare up as well. Can’t believe it’s been another year. How crazy is that. He sipped a bit, then took a deep breath.
A woman spoke over the PA:
Ladies and gentlemen passengers of the flight to London at 2:53 PM, we regret to
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Literature
Diner Meeting
The Magic Man leaned against the dark corner of a diner. The smoke of his cigarette zigzagged up like a grey snake to vanish into nothing. The taste of warm nicotine in his mouth felt sweet.
A man with hardly a shadow came out of the diner. He rubbed his arms against the cold, looking around to make sure nobody noticed him, then turned to the corner where the Magic Man was.
“’Sup, man,” the man said, jittering.
“So what’s it gonna be?” The Magic Man said, exhaling clouds of smoke into the other man’s face, flicking the cigarette away.
“Oh, w-well, you know… what we spoke last time…” He said, lowering his volume at the end, looking around, ignoring the smell burning his nose and throat.
“So, you want to make food zombies?” He adjusted his round purple lens glasses to see him better under the light of a distant light post.
“I want them eagle lovers to eat, eat so much, but never feel the satisfaction of a
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Literature
The Lady and the Koi
There was a girl by the koi pond, her name I never knew.
Every day I passed by with my cart filled with bags of rice to the city, and if the sun was still gentle, she would be there, sitting in her silk white kimono with blue embroidery of flowers and birds.
No one ever accompanied her, she was always alone, watching the fish swim in their pond, share her beauty with them.
One day I passed by as usual, and there she was, the girl with her white kimono and tied up hair. Only today she looked at me. Her eyes were fixed on mine, I couldn’t look away or even move, and a sudden need to be close to her took a hold of me. A few minutes we stared, then she stood and left, just like that.
The next day I figured out a passage that led me to where she lived, a large house with much color and life. I snuck up from the guards out front and scurried to the back garden, and there she was.
Distance does diminish beauty and details, her grace was much greater up close. She smelled of blooming ros
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Literature
Space Chronicles
“Oh for fuck’s sakes, not you here,” Queen Neelah said giving out a deep sigh with her eyes closed.
“Well, you know, we did do a good amount of fucking, love,” Charlie winked at her as their capturers chained him to a nearby pole.
“I’d rather have them kill me this moment, hey! Robot! Electrocute me or some such!” She yelled at one of the capturers.
The machine turned and eyed her with its visual sensors up and down, and displayed a text on its front screen.
“I RELEASE FOR SENSOR STIMULATION.”
Queen Neelah darted her head back against the wall behind her, from which chains came out to clasp her hands.
“Even robots are pervs, great.”
The door was sealed shut behind the robots that continued to display HAHAHAHAHAHA on their screens.
“Well, at least they got a good sense of humor,” Charlie said, looking around the room.
Queen Neelah said nothing.
“So… how’s the colony?”
“Shut
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Literature
The Moon and the Earth
“Won’t you tell us about the moonstone, granny?”
“Yes, tell us about it!”
Miss Morrison and her two grandchildren, Gretta and Mark, were enjoying an afternoon stroll before tea time. The skies were somewhat grey, but blue was the majoritarian ruler of the cosmos. They had chanced upon the great stone carved into a crescent moon.
“Alright children, gather ‘round, yes?” She invited them to sit with her next to it. “It just so happens that the stone you see behind us is, in fact, the seat of the moon when she comes to visit Earth.”
“Bolloks!” Gretta blurted wide eyed.
“No way, granny!” Mark straightened up. “The moon is sooo big, it couldn’t possibly fit in this here stone, cannit?”
“You bet it does, little one, you see, the moon and the earth were real close once.
“When we weren’t around yet, the planets could roam the vast space as they pleased, nothing to rule over th
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Literature
A Strange Rescue
“Bloody fucking hell.”
Leroy’s forehead felt moist and sore as he felt around to make sure nothing would make him trip.
“Roy? Is that you?” Another voice echoed against the metal walls.
“Arthur? Yeah, I’m here, somewhere.”
“’Ere, I got a flashlight.”
A light shone through fresh layer of debris dust particles and wreckage. Leroy was not far in distance, holding on to a turned desk for support.
“You alright?” Leroy asked.
“Yeah, just a hit bum, you look busted up in the noggin’,” he pointed at Leroy’s face with the light.
“I can feel it, but I’m fine, let’s find a way out of ‘ere. That way should do,” he pointed in the general direction of a door labeled with EXIT in large red letters.
The two men scrambled through the clutter from the crash to the door. Leroy forced the latch open when they felt it. Neither had time to hold on when what felt like a powerful
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Literature
The Fountain of Balerno
“I wonder what this place is.”
Gertrude climbed the stone steps to the town with the red tiled roofs. The wind twisted between the cracks and narrow alleys, whistling ominous odes to silence.
Kita had mentioned a boisterous town with busy streets near the sea, with multicolored garlands hanging from all roof corners, music trumpeting from all around, sweet and inviting aromas seducing the senses at every food stand, and friendly smiles and dances rejoicing in everyone’s being. This place shared some similarities, except the ghostly solitude that eliminated all that happiness.
She explored the former shops and houses: all in perfect order, clean, objects in their place, not a speck of dust or abandonment. Maybe someone still lives here…
The sun was setting by the time she reached the plaza where a grand fountain rested at the very center, with its flowing, clear waters running. The life of Balerno runs through its fountain, she recalled Kita say to her once.
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She held a tattered tin box against her chest, hands bandaged. Her body lingers long after her death, though her eyes don’t sleep, her lungs still get filled with air, tears flowing through channels formed on her cheeks.

Her father had gone missing many years ago, way too many to count with her little dirty fingers with graveyard dirt. Alone, she sought death for help, but nothing good comes from looking in the dark. Death, being mischievous, told her she’d let her live after her last breath escaped her body through her roped neck, but she had to promise to keep a box with her, but never to look inside it.

The girl obeyed, and time passed without touching her soul. She wandered high and low, watching the world go on without her, not knowing that what she so longed for was within her tiny hands.
The girl searching
Random story I wrote in under ten minutes while classmates rambled about what story to write. Not amused.
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I could remember the white roses. No family or town, just the white roses. Their pure smell lines the inside of my mind like a blanket stuck to moist skin. The scent was interrupted by the one from my own warm blood escaping my chest.

“Perhaps you lost this duel, but your name will be remembered for ages to come,” BN-68 the cyborg said as he pulled the wooden cart across the Sahara desert.

The maharaja had struck his finishing blow after forty two minutes of fighting without any stop. I bet the reptilians thought it was skill or weakness from my part, but I just gave up. A little voice, a memory, or perhaps a hallucination, told me to stop spilling blood. A child’s face was projected in my mind, and then I knew I couldn’t continue.

BN-68 stopped at a merchant’s shop of potions. I thought I heard him ask for a nostomania vial and white rose petal water. He made me drink them for vespers. I had dreams of a place I didn’t recognize, and yet felt so familiar; a manor with climbing vines and stone corners, stables on the left, apple orchards to the right, and around, fields of white with the rose petals.

I’m in the house, and there’s a grand dinner. Robot servants refill glasses and cut the pork chops for the guests. A man is speaking with his glass high in the air. They all drink after he does, then another man stands, the maharaja, I recognize. He walked to the man, perhaps the host, and slaps him with his green silk glove to both cheeks. Fulminating gasps and comments surround the maharajah, and only when I open my eyes, I realize the man was me.

Why he had challenged and offended me at my own house I do not know. All I know is that I’ll die in the middle of a desert, lying on a cart, with a cyborg for company, and the smell of white roses for consolation that, perhaps at some point, I had a good life.
Memories From a Dead Man
FFM #31 CHALLENGE!!

The last challenge, Time goes by so fast it's ridiculous :flop:

My poison was: A corked bottle of effervescent liquid, several petals floating within, by The-Inkling.

It read:

Write a story about a duel (instigated in the time honoured fashion of being slapped with a glove)
That prominently features white roses.
Set within a historically ambiguous timezone with misleading anachronisms sprinkled throughout
Making use of the words "fulminate", "nostomania", and "vespers"
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Caw caw caw.

The crows were getting closer. Soon the fields would end and nothing but open clearings of land will open up. The sun was nearly set, then there’d be no hope. He ran as fast as his wooden stakes could take him. Damn humans, couldn’t they have given him wheels?

Caw caw caw.

It wasn’t his fault he was created for such a foul task. Did they think he enjoyed ripping the wings from the innocent chicks? Or their fathers and mothers? Their dry blood reeked from his filthy burlap pants and rag coat to remind him of the monster he was made to be.

Caw caw caw.

The last sunray hid behind the far north corn fields. He reached the end of the wheat hectares. He turned to the farm house set ablaze by his hay hands. Not even that helped in calming the wrath of the crows, and how could it? Their kin gets murdered for trying to eat, to live, survive. So he was made.

Caw caw caw.

Darkness dressed the skies, and the crows tripled in size aided by the blackness of the night they belonged to. He took out his swords and dropped them.

“I won’t fight anymore, do as you will!”

The scarecrow was never to be seen again.
Redemption of the Hayman
FFM #30!

I can't believe this is one story away from the end!

This story was inspired by dresew's "Outnumbered," submitted as image prompt. Thanks :D
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Alright dA-ers, listen up!

Yesterday, on my way to work from class, I spotted a tiny bundle along the curb of a highly transited road. It turned out to be a kitten. I parked the car, ran to her, snatched her from the starting rain (no kidding), and after a few scratches of fear and omg what the fuck are you doing, I got her to my car and headed home. So, now I have a lovely little kitten in my garage, meowing for a mommy that won't come, afraid of every single sound, and looking for a loving and caring home.

Sadly, to my most profound dismay, seeing as I long for a feline cuddly ball of hair, I cannot keep her, lest I want to end up homeless (something I'd consider given other circumstances, but c'est la vie). So I am giving her temporary housing while I desperately search for a forever home to this gorgeous baby. Based on some research and inquiries, she's about a month old, maybe a tiny bit more.

Here's a photo of the beautiful babe: scontent-mia1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v…

So, SHOUTOUT TO ALL DEVIANT ANIMAL LOVERS!

I am willing to cost all of the healthcare aspects of the kitten (shots, meds [if needed], neutering, etc.) AND if I have some money left (for you see, I am a broke fool as well), I could help pay for the flight of the kitty. If she is indeed a bit over a month old, that gives us about 2-3 months to prepare and coordinate all that has to be done before neutering (I was told that can be done after the kitty's 4 months or older, I can check and update on this as soon as I got the info.)

IF you are the lucky deviant who will adopt the biggest joy of your life, please please please, give me a note and we can arrange accordingly. I don't want her to be put in a shelter where she'll be kept in a cage all day or, worse, killed, that's not what I saved her for. So please, if you would like her or if you know anyone who would and is a responsible, loving kitty future parent, let me know ASAP.

Spread the word!

(PS: I'll post a better image of her tomorrow, she's not easy to photograph XD)

UPDATE

Today, after little more than four hours of waiting time and hunger and cold, the kitty was checked out by a vet. She tested negative for parasites (hooray!), but still was given some preventive med, her little paw cushions seemed to have been burnt from walking in the hot pavement, but after some cleaning up and applying of this solution the vet told me she should be just fine. Since she's so small we have to wait 2-3 weeks to give her the first round of meds, and a couple of months at least to sterilize. All in all, she's a feisty sweetheart! :heart:

Anyone interested, note me, note me, note me! Or comment on this journal :D

And here are some better pictures!

scontent-mia1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v…

scontent-mia1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v…

scontent-mia1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v…

Let's find this little one a forever home!

UPDATE

New video of the kitty's development!

www.facebook.com/dorian.tessle…

As we can see, she likes to play, she learned to use the litter box on her first try, and she eats all her food (and loves to be cuddled and searches for your hand to do it :D)

Spread the word, show this kitten to the world to find her a home! :heart:

UPDATE

I found someone who wants the kitten. Woot woot! :w00t: The downside? The person live in Omaha, Nebraska. Another downer? I don't like there. I did say I would send her anywhere so long as it was a caring, forever home, however, I don't want to send the little creature in cargo. She's so small and I don't want that for her. So, I need a sort of kitten chaperon to escort her in the passenger's cabin during the trip. I cover all the kitten's expenses, as promised, I just need someone travelling from Puerto Rico to Omaha in about a month or so.

If anyone happens to know of a person that fits these requirements, please please please let me know ASAP so I can begin arrangements and vet consults and such.

Spread the word!

deviantID

mimi-lolacute's Profile Picture
mimi-lolacute
Andora
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Puerto Rico
Other places where you can find my work:

Being fixed/modified at the moment

Please refer to my deviation "A little note" talking about my comments and criticize ways.

Current Residence: Belarus
Favourite genre of music: Classical, rock, alternative, electronica
Operating System: Windows
Wallpaper of choice: Patterns
Personal Quote: To live is to love, to love is to live.
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Comments


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:iconxeir-zith:
Xeir-Zith Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2017  Professional Writer
*Does the summon Mimi-lolacute dance* you poofed halfway through November!!! Are you doing alright ?
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:iconxeir-zith:
Xeir-Zith Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2016  Professional Writer
MIMI! *:hug:*
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:iconxeir-zith:
Xeir-Zith Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2016  Professional Writer
*Does the SUMMON MIMI-LOLACUTE DANCE* WE MISS YOU!! :tighthug:
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:iconcloe-patra:
cloe-patra Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
thanks for the fave :)
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:iconmimi-lolacute:
mimi-lolacute Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem :D
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:iconxeir-zith:
Xeir-Zith Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2016  Professional Writer
*lures mimi to chat*
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:iconasashoumikugi:
Asashoumikugi Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
hey :) how have you been?
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:iconmimi-lolacute:
mimi-lolacute Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey :) I've been good, busy with work, and you?
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:iconwdlady:
WDLady Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fave! :heart:
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:iconmimi-lolacute:
mimi-lolacute Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
:love:
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