I watched the sun cross the heavens, a golden disc making a crawling sprint through cloudless pink sky. Somewhere nearby I could hear a brook burbling as it passed over some rocks. Overhead, the edge of the forest's canopy was gilded as the sun hurriedly meandered through midday, protecting my eyes and skin. Not that I needed the protection; my skin was dark from... something, I guess, it didn't really matter what. Besides, I was wearing clothes: a pair of baggy pants, kept on my waist with a drawstring and close to my ankles with a wrapping cloth, and a white shirt buttoned to the neck covered my body almost completely. The vest really was
I met a man, once, on a cold July day. We didn't know each other, had no connection but the coffee in our hands and a willingness to chatter. That's how we began, but by year's end we were partners in adventure. Many, of course, would be asking, “What do I care,” right about now. For whom the bell tolls, you know, but whatever. Some would ask, “How did you become so close, so quickly?” That's the first question I'll answer. Snff.
It was snowing, that weekday in July. Nothing too heavy, but enough that you didn't want to go outside if you could help it. After you order your coffee, you sit and drink some
The bright monitor was the only light source in the dark room. His face was alternately washed out and pitch black as he rocked his head with the song, the shadows playing across his closed eyelids. A contented smile rested on his lips, despite sitting so that half of his chair was empty. Softly, he started singing along. Her voice joined his. Memories of late night drives along empty roads, of stargazing in mid-summer as a cool breeze brushed the tall grass against their shoulders and cheeks, of lying in bed wrapped around each other as they drifted off to sleep, floated just inside conscious thought. His smile widened slightly as th
Truth, Perception, and Purity by Inumo, literature
Literature
Truth, Perception, and Purity
I could hear it ring. The sound is my first memory, or as most people would say, I've heard it all my life. Beneath the clamor of everything else in the world, that pure tone is always in my ear. It has sung me to sleep many times, let me ride my waves of joy for longer, and shined like a beacon towards happiness in my deepest despair. This, however, isn't it. I take the stone from next to my ear and drop it.
“So, I went to a party last night, over on Harriett and Sixteenth.” Truth, seeing as even one person could be considered a party under certain circumstances. “Louisa was there.” Perception, albeit
It was... I don't know what it was. It certainly wasn't a "dark and stormy night." Nor was it "long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away." It was much too close to home, much too bright for these feelings. And it all began with the thought of her.
I remembered her from my youth. She loved colors, would put on a different outfit every day, and always look beautiful. She was so sweet, innocent. The way she played with her blonde hair as she looked at me with the deep brown pools that were her eyes. I loved her like a sister, and she loved me like a brother, and we... well, we were happy enough. I can't remember why we ended up parting ways. Wa
I watched the sun cross the heavens, a golden disc making a crawling sprint through cloudless pink sky. Somewhere nearby I could hear a brook burbling as it passed over some rocks. Overhead, the edge of the forest's canopy was gilded as the sun hurriedly meandered through midday, protecting my eyes and skin. Not that I needed the protection; my skin was dark from... something, I guess, it didn't really matter what. Besides, I was wearing clothes: a pair of baggy pants, kept on my waist with a drawstring and close to my ankles with a wrapping cloth, and a white shirt buttoned to the neck covered my body almost completely. The vest really was
I met a man, once, on a cold July day. We didn't know each other, had no connection but the coffee in our hands and a willingness to chatter. That's how we began, but by year's end we were partners in adventure. Many, of course, would be asking, “What do I care,” right about now. For whom the bell tolls, you know, but whatever. Some would ask, “How did you become so close, so quickly?” That's the first question I'll answer. Snff.
It was snowing, that weekday in July. Nothing too heavy, but enough that you didn't want to go outside if you could help it. After you order your coffee, you sit and drink some
The bright monitor was the only light source in the dark room. His face was alternately washed out and pitch black as he rocked his head with the song, the shadows playing across his closed eyelids. A contented smile rested on his lips, despite sitting so that half of his chair was empty. Softly, he started singing along. Her voice joined his. Memories of late night drives along empty roads, of stargazing in mid-summer as a cool breeze brushed the tall grass against their shoulders and cheeks, of lying in bed wrapped around each other as they drifted off to sleep, floated just inside conscious thought. His smile widened slightly as th
Truth, Perception, and Purity by Inumo, literature
Literature
Truth, Perception, and Purity
I could hear it ring. The sound is my first memory, or as most people would say, I've heard it all my life. Beneath the clamor of everything else in the world, that pure tone is always in my ear. It has sung me to sleep many times, let me ride my waves of joy for longer, and shined like a beacon towards happiness in my deepest despair. This, however, isn't it. I take the stone from next to my ear and drop it.
“So, I went to a party last night, over on Harriett and Sixteenth.” Truth, seeing as even one person could be considered a party under certain circumstances. “Louisa was there.” Perception, albeit
It was... I don't know what it was. It certainly wasn't a "dark and stormy night." Nor was it "long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away." It was much too close to home, much too bright for these feelings. And it all began with the thought of her.
I remembered her from my youth. She loved colors, would put on a different outfit every day, and always look beautiful. She was so sweet, innocent. The way she played with her blonde hair as she looked at me with the deep brown pools that were her eyes. I loved her like a sister, and she loved me like a brother, and we... well, we were happy enough. I can't remember why we ended up parting ways. Wa
As evidenced by the new entries in my gallery, I just finished another deviation dump.
By the way, if I got a Formspring, would anyone ask questions on it?
I've been meaning to do this for a while. I'm putting up a large amount of deviations now because I wrote them all in my A.L.A. journal and never bothered getting them over to this. Hope you enjoy them all!
I just made this up. Time to test!
How many side streets are in your life (aka how interestingly closed are you)? Let's find out! Answer honestly!
1. Do you like to draw, paint, or whatever art? This doesn't include written art.
Yep. Why else would I have a dA?
2. Do you try to show anybody and everybody your art, including people that don't look like they care?
I used to... but not any more. :P
3. Do you like to write stories, poems, or create written art?
Yes.
4. Do you show anybody and everybody your work, including people that don't look like they care?
No, of course not. They might steal my ideas!
5. Do you like to talk to a lo
Your icon has my 3yr old sooo confused LOL he spent almost 10 minutes yesterday looking for the 3 dots between 2-4 XD Just staring with his finger up like 1. 2..4 arg!