Tag Archives: fire

The Other Path

29 Nov

Man

 

Tor.com is holding a fun little six word story contest that I decided to submit to. This is my entry:

Fire engulfs Man. From ashes, monsters.

You can view more entries, or submit your own, here.

~D.

Bird

22 Nov

We Like It

Fire, we like it.

No, this isn’t a metaphor piece on birds, I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you all know that Path to Nowhere is on Sci-Fi Bloggers right now and you should all check it out.

That is all.

~D.

FIRST LOOK: Path to Nowhere

11 Nov

Nowhere?

You’ll be able to read my weekly series, Path to Nowhere, on Sci-Fi Bloggers soon! Here’s a quick taste of what you’ll be reading:

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Fire, she likes it. It’s warm, filled with life, capable of death, known for both. It’s bright. She’s been up all night looking at it, and the stars, and the moon, and the glowing eyes of watchful beasts. They dare not draw near. They’ve seen her before. They’ve seen her fire.

She looks to where the horizon will be when the sun finally creeps over World’s End, calculating how far her next stop is. How long has it been since Krimwald? Three days: first day running, next two walking and hiding. At the rate she’s going, it should take another day to reach Reager. Hopefully they followed her false trail to Black Rider Canyon.

They’ve got to stop following me. They keep coming for more, ruining everything. There has to be an end to their search at some point, doesn’t there? No, there doesn’t. She’ll keep running, she’ll keep fighting, and she’ll keep searching for it. It is everything. It is all that matters. Everything else is either a barrier or a band-aid. It is the only way to fix it all. I need it.

That switch. It keeps happening. Her, me, her, me. Why can’t I just—ugh! It hurts to do it sometimes, most of the time really, just thinking it, I. She shivers, letting out a nervous sigh. Maybe she should just let it go, not try anymore. What’s the point, anyway? Why try at all? To heal? Everything else is either a barrier or a band-aid. It is the only way to fix it all. She needs it.

Her, me, her, me.

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Can’t wait for you to see the rest!

~D.

Type It

11 Sep

Us.

I googled “twin towers” a few seconds ago. I was looking in the “Images” section. I expected smoke, fire, evil, all those things to come up first. I was surprised to find that all the starting pictures were of the Twin Towers prior to that day that changed our way of life forever. Here, look at this one. Isn’t it something? Look at how big they are compared to all the other buildings? They have this eternal look about them, this indestructible quality. I’m well aware that they no longer stand, but right there they just seem unbreakable.

I scrolled down. Immediately the scenery I expected came up: the smoke, the fire, the evil, the planes. Funny, there’s so much controversy over how it happened. Does it matter? I mean, of course it “matters,” but does it matter, really? No, no, no. How it happened, or even that it happened isn’t what really matters. It’s what we did about it that deserves remembrance, and, at the very least, praise. We buckled down, we didn’t give in, we remained united, we helped each other, saved each other even. We won. That was the real victory, and that’s the victory that should’ve been observed to begin with.

Yes, it’s true, justice should be exacted when crimes are committed, but it’s gone on so long that people are starting to forget the victory and think only of the crashes, the explosions, the screaming, the terror, and the need to completely eradicate “those people.” I’m not saying punishment wasn’t in order. I’m not saying it still isn’t. But the focus on it is far too great. What warrants our attention is what we gained, not what we lost. It’s unity, ya hear? That’s what matters.

I googled “unity” a few seconds ago. I was looking in the “Images” section. I expected love, people holding hands, peace signs, all those things to come up first. They did.

Type it.

~D.

Game of @$%^ing Thrones

3 Jun

Fuck them. Fuck them all.

I usually censor my stuff because some of your are offended by swearing. If you are among those of whom I speak, please leave now. Thank you.

Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way: FUCK THE MOTHER FUCKING, COCK SUCKING, ASS LICKING, INCEST INFESTED, DOG SHIT EATING, BUTT FUCKING, MURDEROUS, MONSTROUS, CUNT FUCKED UP BITCH LANNISTERS!

Okay, okay, okay…okay…

…okay…

…okay…

………THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS! I’LL RIP THEIR FUCKIGN SKULLS OUT AND USE THEM AS DRINKING CUPS!!!!

Okay, look, you already get the picture. I don’t need to write you a dissertation, a thesis, a long, detailed study of why I’m pissed right now. After all this build-up, all this amazing happiness and joy, joy we haven’t seen since in some time, mind you, THIS HAPPENS?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?! Arya isn’t ever going to see her mother again? The Starks lost? Another direwolf is dead? They STABBED AN UNBORN CHILD TO DEATH?! WHAT?! WHY?!?!??!/!1/!111

I’m just….I’m just angry…..and disappointed. We can talk about it more later. Just…….just let me shower…..

 

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,

That lord of Castamere,

But now the rains weep o’er his hall,

with no one there to hear.

Yes, now the rains weep o’er his hall,

And not a soul to hear.

~D.

Typos and Tonight

1 May

All hail the mighty Onion King. His wrath be greater than all levels of Hell.

 

Okay, I’m a little embarrassed about the typos on the new page, but only a little. In fact, I’m not embarrassed. Screw you guys for noticing the damned misspellellelled words. What the hell’s your problem, huh? What, with your perceptions and your cheap critiques and your pants with a shoelace running through the belt loops (yeah, I noticed). Yeah, you’re nuts, hear me? There were no typos. There are no typos. Go look! Prove that there was something there.

Anyway, I’m going to write something tonight. It might not be out until past midnight, so it’ll technically be tomorrow, but whatever, it’s cool. I’m trying to decide if I want it to be something y’all take seriously. I think it should be, just for good alternation, but you knever now.

 

~D.

Becklantic

7 Apr

Jack is white.

Ann unedditid centance cann ruen ann artecul. I’m not kidding. People can read one and immediately think, “Well, I know where this is going.” And they do, don’t they? They know exactly where it’s testicles, because they’re psychic. Everyone who reads blogs is psychic. They assume that if someone begins all of their articles with a random picture and some dry humor that it’ll probably end up being a dramatic political satire related to the picture, because they know everything, because readers KNOW EVERYTHING. So, how does one surprise a reader?

Beck

Let’s start with a goat. Goats are always surprising. I rather like goats. Actually, to be honest, I don’t know anything about goats other than they’re basically sheep with horns and less hair. Anyways, we’ve got a goat. Now, what are we going to do with this goat? Well, we’re going to ride it, you see. We’re going to ride it across the Atlantic Ocean, because all goats can walk on salt water, you see. And now we’re going to feed it some fish, because goats eat fish! This is our NEW DISCOVERY! So, we’ll keep feeding it until it’s so big it fills up like a balloon and takes us sailing into the clouds above! This is the exclamation point section! HAHAHAHAHA!

Once we’re in the clouds, we’ll start catching passing seagulls. As they struggle, we’ll strap them to the goat with leather bindings, leaving their wings exposed so that their flapping redirects our flight pattern to—geese muffins, it’s Istanbul! A city on two continents! How did we ever get here?! Well, let’s head down. We free our seagulls and stick needles in the goat, deflating it. After a gentle descent, we arrive on the Asian side of the city, and are immediately and savagely assaulted by Turkish missionaries for being “fell heathens.” After escaping with only our thumbs and earlobes broken and torn, we rush to the nearest coyote salesman. He gives us two fine hounds for free because we have a cute blonde chick with us who pleases him with her extensive knowledge of yo-yo yoga—that’s yoga with a yo-yo. We immediately mount the coyotes, the blonde vanishing into thin air, and ride off into the sunset, only to be swallowed by a passing sand dragon who farts us into the Tenth Level of Hell.

And that’s how you surprise a reader.

AHA!