Gallery
Literature
Sonnet 5
The ordered seasons mock the human heart,
where golden days are marred by winter's frost
and cold despair, unwilling to depart,
must suffer summer's warmth and wear the cost
of feigned enjoyment's cast: a brittle smile.
The pain of tempests past: those certain waves
that pound a wounded heart, that little isle
alone against the sea. The hurt enslaves,
its path a circle, always leading back,
each winter sharper, deeper. No remorse
can heal the dead or shape the past, no track
can breach time's walls, no penance change its course.
The wasteland fears a spring of piercing pains
so, shattered many times, the mask remains.
All
38 deviations
Literature
Sonnet 5
The ordered seasons mock the human heart,
where golden days are marred by winter's frost
and cold despair, unwilling to depart,
must suffer summer's warmth and wear the cost
of feigned enjoyment's cast: a brittle smile.
The pain of tempests past: those certain waves
that pound a wounded heart, that little isle
alone against the sea. The hurt enslaves,
its path a circle, always leading back,
each winter sharper, deeper. No remorse
can heal the dead or shape the past, no track
can breach time's walls, no penance change its course.
The wasteland fears a spring of piercing pains
so, shattered many times, the mask remains.
Featured
21 deviations
Literature
Past Fear
Past Fear
'Are you scared, Becky?'
We stand in the alley, a few steps away from The Street, partly sheltered from the drizzle by a square of canvas someone has draped over ruined walls. Ahmed's voice is soft, which is appropriate in this place. The gentle compassion in his tone is not. It clashes with the violence that screams at me from every smashed and splintered building. Rain darkens the yellow stones like the memory of blood.
Are you scared, Becky? I hear the past echoed in my lover's words and my eyes fill, my hand lifting to my mouth in an old sign of contrition, while my throat works against the warm flood rising. Images flutter a
Short Stories
5 deviations
Literature
Untitled, Chapter 1
Cloud leaned against the vanity as another wave of dizziness crashed over her. She concentrated on breathing and waited for the wave to recede. It sucked at her, blackened the edges of her vision, but she pressed her knees against the vanity's doors and held her balance and the pressure subsided. The music from her bedroom pushed back in, harsh and insistent; the mocking voice of an empty house. She clenched her eyes. Hot tears rushed down her cheeks. Another wave battered her.
She does it with sheep.
Welsh witch.
Stupid name. I hate clouds, always grey and cold and wet.
You should go back where you came from, rain cloud. We don't want yo
Novel Excerpts
7 deviations
Literature
Dragon Summer, Ch2 excerpt
She didn't like the aftermath; she felt empty, depleted, tainted. She couldn't quite relate to the self she had been for much of the day. The thoughts that had so energised her now appeared rather sordid. It was disconcerting; like being embarrassed by the peculiar actions of a staid friend. She was left with a familiar yet potent sense of shame that framed and undermined what had once been merely a secret, idiosyncratic pleasure.
Katie yawned, clambered into her pyjamas and trudged to the bathroom, accusatory thoughts circling. It wasn't until she had dried her hands and switched off the light that she noticed the oddly bright sky shining t
Fantasy
7 deviations
Literature
Sonnet 5
The ordered seasons mock the human heart,
where golden days are marred by winter's frost
and cold despair, unwilling to depart,
must suffer summer's warmth and wear the cost
of feigned enjoyment's cast: a brittle smile.
The pain of tempests past: those certain waves
that pound a wounded heart, that little isle
alone against the sea. The hurt enslaves,
its path a circle, always leading back,
each winter sharper, deeper. No remorse
can heal the dead or shape the past, no track
can breach time's walls, no penance change its course.
The wasteland fears a spring of piercing pains
so, shattered many times, the mask remains.
Poetry
8 deviations
Scraps
31 deviations