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Find a place- FerriswheelshippingItalics are N, regular is Hilda
So when I say,
I'm on my way,
I'll miss you baby,
Don't hurt me now.
I'm not okay,
But I found a place,
Where I can stay,
And just think it out.
"Hilda, I will only be traveling for a while. A year at the most."
Even with my words, she still looked sad, or heartbroken, or shocked, or some other emotion. I still did not quite understand how these human emotions worked. She could have been joyful for all I knew.
I needed some space. After, well, after the whole Team Plasma thing, I needed to escape from Unova, flee from the painful memories that lurked within me- the dreadful ones that I had caused. Needed to start a new life, or at least try and salvage the one I tore apart.
Of course, I also needed to learn about... Well, humans. I had realized that my knowledge of the world and its culture was not very la
Making HistoryBeep beep beep beep beep whiirrrr click.
Accompanied by the strange noises, the door unlocked as I pressed in the password for it, and I stepped inside.
Throwing my binder and various textbooks on the leather couch, I stumbled over and flopped down right next to my books.
Another day of school.
It was Monday, and it had made it so much harder for me to get up and go to school. But now that I was back, I had a little time to relax before getting started on my homework.
Actually, never mind- I didn't have any homework. There was a test tomorrow in math, one that I could easily wing (simply because it was so easy), a lab tomorrow in Science, new French tomorrow in French, a review tomorrow in LA, drawing tomorrow in Art, and another test -tomorrow- in history.
Everything was tomorrow, and that left absolutely nothing for today, unless I wanted to work ahead.
Actually, I guess I did need to study for the history test tomorrow. I mean, right now, I couldn't tell the differen
ComplicatedIt was a rainy day, one that barely misted the sidewalks with a small assortment of tiny waterdrops. A rainy day that you could barely hear, save for when the cars on the street rushed past the road, but one that made the clouds hang precariously in the sky, acting as a canopy that kept light outside, but didn't let any in.
All in all, it was a good day for hot chocolate, video games, writing, and occasionally staring outside the window at the shimmering streets.
It was a Sunday, too, which added to the feeling of nonstalagia and peace, the idea that you could simply sit for a while, enjoy the moment, relax.
I sighed and turned my attention to the flickering computer screen, raising an eyebrow at the e-mail that had just popped up. Even if it was a quiet rainy day, there was work to be done. Even if it wasn't really classified as work, more like a leisure activity or some other thing.
After replying to the friend's e-mail, I turned my attention to another tab on the browser that was cu
Yup, that's me.
Bored out of my mind.
There was nothing to do when a weekend hit over here in this desert-like small town, especially if your teachers were nice enough to give you barely any homework.
I mean, that was nice and all, but really, there was nothing else to do. I, admittedly, was far too lazy to get up and walk upstairs, where endless arts and crafts awaited me. Since all I had was an iPad and a book within easy reach, and because reading the book was getting tiresome, I had chosen the iPad.
It was a nice distraction for an hour or so, but I had the sudden urge to write something, anything, but of course, I had no ideas. Isn't it just peachy when that happens? So I went onto DA, and browsed for a while, when I stumbled upon something.
What did it say? I took a closer look at the screen. The 100 themes challenge.
One hundred themes...?
Of course! That challenge where you were supposed to do a work of art for each of the hundred themes that were given to you, or s
TWEWY- Composer's SongWho said...?
Who said that immortality was a gift?
Screw them all.
I thought it was a good idea. At the time. Back then, I was lonely, and scared, and Shibuya knows what else.
Back then, when I was still alive, and in the RG with living, breathing, people. People who avoided me, or made fun of me and tormented me to no end. Because I saw things they didn't, saw the Noise that possessed them.
That scared me the most.
There were all kinds- frogs, penguins, kangaroos. I would have enjoyed their presence, but they were somehow not right, somehow... There was just something wrong with them. Perhaps it was the occasional sharp, tattered blade replacing a wing or a tail, or if it was the exquisite pattern tattooed on their bodies that made them deceptively beautiful.
Or, most probably, it was the fact that they didn't even flinch as they erased their prey, the ensnared, pact-less humans screaming as they were taken away.
Just like the other ethereal people, who looked no
Technicolor lifeThey just didn't understand,
Of course, I didn't understand
However, at least I was
having the desire
They couldn't even
be given that.
Today, a person came to school.
She was apparently the principal of another school.
I don't know why she came. Don't know how. Don't know when. But she did.
She came with a message. A specific message to give to whoever passed by.
But I received something else.
The exact opposite.
I didn't listen,
grumbled a bit
Because it wasn't
until after I had
after she spoke,
after I listened,
when I started realizing
what I learned.
Because she said so.
Because materialistic things were important.
Because the ideas she had,
the American dream,
of being able to live in comfort,
of obtaining false happiness,
was the one I had to listen to.
That was the reason why.
How lame was that?
It wasn't me who was
Click to add titleBlack screen. Again.
"Macy, the computer crashed for the fourth time! How am I supposed to get the collab done?!" I yelled, banging a fist on the keyboard so violently the "L" key flew off to a distant corner of the room.
Macy, who was in the rec room next door, came in. Eyebrow raised, she quickly inspected the scene before sighing and raising her hand in defeat.
"Sorry, Buster, I'm not the technics geek here."
"My name's not Buster! And this is your assignment, too!"
Macy nodded, and pointed at the screen.
"I do know. But I'm serious when I say I haven't any idea about what's going on. I only do classical stuff, like pencil drawings and hand-written stuff. You know that."
Well, I guess she was right.
And I guess the computer liked her presence, because it started again, and this time making it past the login screen.
"Well, finally! Macy, you scanned the drawing, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did."
Nice! That made things a whole lot easier. I opened up Chrome, went on to the DA page,
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More