|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
UnbreakableYour words are like glass.
Giving false hope.
For with the slightest pressure,
Shards and pieces,
Ripping me apart
Killing me slowly.
And that which seemed unbreakable,
With its beauty and indestructibility,
Leaving me with nothing
Nothing to lean on
Nothing to trust
Nothing to support me
Leaving me to fall
Fall to the end.
And for what is left,
I will always remember the beauty,
The beauty of the glass.
The beauty that betrayed me.
Happy EndingsI hit the ground hard as I fell to my knees, tired of running. I know they're right there behind me, but I don't care. Not anymore. I've fought until I don't have any fight left in me. One can only be an insurgent for so long.
I can hear the sounds behind me. The pounding of the heavy boots, the deep, harsh calls of one man to another. Everything around me seemed to slow down, probably from the adrenaline. Every second seemed to pass as though it were a minute though I knew I had only minutes left.
I have never really believed in the whole 'life flashing before your eyes' thing, but now, I really do see everything. I remember being eleven, and tying ribbons in my baby sister's pale blond curls just before school. I remember defending my little brothers love of reading, taking hits to the eyes and nose, just because girls were inferior and weren't supposed to be strong or brave. I see my older brother, raising me, teaching me about life, and ways to make the most of our famil
The Sixth Decision for SuccessAs Michael’s head swam, he closed his eyes. He almost didn’t want to leave Anne’s room. The pictures on her wall brought tears to his eyes. She was younger than him, but she still wanted so much out of life, where he had been ready to give his own away. He sat down; keeping his eyes closed, and rested his head in his hands. Maybe to be happy, he needed to let everything out first.
Michael sat like that for the longest time. Maybe he hadn’t even left Anne’s room yet. But as he opened his eyes, he realized Amsterdam was long gone. He tried to stand, but another wave of nausea hit him. He squeezed his eyes closed as he slowly got to his feet and regained balance. Once he finally managed to open his eyes, he was slightly shocked by what he saw. It was not a battlefield, it was not the Santa Maria, it was not even the office of President Truman.
Michael was in a dingy room not too much bigger than the central room Anne had shared. This was a plain room, but it
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More