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One hundredI never planned to become this old. Though obviously, through my years I have come to find, that reality has little interest when it comes to the plans of human beings. When I was young, I was convinced I was old and hoped to die young. I'm not sure whose fortune it was that I happened to be a coward and managed to avoid such a fate. I spent several decades marvelling at how much of an idiot I was, but later on I have realised that during those years, I was an idiot too. I began to doubt all my thoughts, and then on decided to stop thinking. A waste of good time, that was.
I suppose it's natural, but time does seem to speed up as it goes on. I guess the old simply won't need as much of it as the young do. It feels when I was the age of my grandchildren, there was never enough time, and each moment of it that passed was wasted. What a horrible crime it felt like, back then.
I could never forgive myself. That I wasn't talented, smart, or handsome. It truly was a crime, being human. Or wo
SonjaIt was dark when it happened. Sonja was walking home from ballet practice, it must not have been much later than six o'clock. The sky was ink black, there were no stars. The world was dyed orange by the street lamps. She lived by the edges of Kurjenlampi, though a town of its size hardly had a centre to begin with. A twofold shadow appeared before her, their sides forming a darker patch where they overlapped, and slid by her side to her back, allowing a new one to form at her front. She had started to like their shape.
She had grown over the past fall, signs of childhood starting to fade from her face. Her hair was growing out. As little as she would admit it to anyone, if she learnt to put on makeup like Aliisa, she could be just as beautiful. Wrapped up in her thoughts and plans, she hardly hear the few quickly approaching steps before it hit her. Her cheek hit the pavement. Beside the numbing pain on her shoulder, she sensed the thing standing above her. She wanted to turn her head
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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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