|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Walking ShadowsThere was no moon the night my father died. He always said the darkest nights were his favorite because he felt like a walking shadow. People think they can’t be seen in the darkness, but I saw them.
My father and I were in the forest on a hunting trip. I made a circle around our fire, looking for extra firewood or anything else that caught my eye. I was behind a tree looking over at his face in the fire when two shadows came up behind him and started stabbing him.
I saw their faces in the light of the fire, even recognized one of them. Then I ran. It was a long time before I stopped running, and when I did, I hid in a bush.
Cowards, both of them. I thought as I cried. Sneaking up behind him, two on one; that wasn’t a fair fight!
I decided right then that when I killed them, it would be face-to-face.
Eight years in the woods taught me a lot of things, and I knew the sky as well as I knew my own face. It was a few days before the new moon, 10 years since my father’s
The Gauntlet28. Thwap, slam. 26. Smack, thump, thud. 23. Kill 23 more, that was the objective.
One more body fell under my weapon, and I took a momentary pause to wipe off the blood. The small break allowed me to look around at the carnage: a sea of corpses.
I didn’t want it to be this way, this was supposed to be the last resort. Plan A didn’t show up, and that left me alone. I heard the sound of more footsteps.
I steeled myself for the oncoming attack and raised my fly swatter.
Zombie PieThe “A” Area, B Chair contained it. Swoosh…bloop. The first feverish, bloodless cadaver stumbling far to get victuals fell across it. Splish went the pie…kerplunk. Mmm!
BootlessBilly came out of the womb looking for something. That’s what her momma said, anyway. Even as a child, Billy seemed unsatisfied with what she saw around her—she would stand at the edge of the yard, leaning over the gate, looking away in the distance.
Without meaning to, she made people uneasy. They always felt like she was looking past them, never at them. Billy was only ever sort of present in any given conversation; her mind was elsewhere.
When it happened, only Billy came out unsurprised, as she had expected the world to end for years and wondered why it took so long. “And after all,” she told the others, “the world didn’t actually end. We’re still here.”
It came on the wings of war, on the back of a hatred that stewed between nations for years until someone stopped walking around the elephant in the room and just bombed the heck out of it.
Billy loved the new world, though she didn’t say it. The one time she had, it almost got h
Best Friends ForeverSharon brushed her hands against her jeans, a reflex for the irritation from the dirt on her hands. She found the spot behind the boulder where she had stored the metal trash can and began to take off each piece of her clothing one-by-one, dropping them into the can until she was a naked woman in the dark desert.
The matches—four of them—fell into the can, and fire licked up from the bottom. The heat felt great in her current state of dress, and Sharon stood by the fire as if she were roasting marshmallows. For a moment, she wished for s’mores.
She poked her clothes with the end of the shovel, and when she was certain they were ashes, she put the lid on the can and looked around. Still no one here, thank goodness; she didn’t want to run in front of anyone naked.
Once back in the truck, she slid into her fresh sundress and flip flops, took a sip of water, and cranked up her country music. She sped out of the sand trap with a grin a mile wide on her face—the
A Spoke in the WheelI shouldn’t be here, he thought. It wasn’t supposed to last this long. Daniel shuffled toward the door of the saloon, drawing as little attention to himself as possible. The dust prickling his bare ankles—darn the pants he had borrowed—told him he had reached the door, and he pushed on it with his back.
It didn’t open. He turned his head half to the side, but before he could see anything, something pushed him forward. He hadn’t even straightened up when a hand came down on his collar and he felt himself being dragged outside.
“Now listen here, you stinkin’ flannel-mouthed four-flusher!” You come in here with yer potions ‘n got our women all fussed and now—LOOK AT MY HEAD!” The cowboy Daniel only knew as “Big Jim” took off his hat, revealing a mass of messy, bright pink hair. “Show ‘im, boys!” he bellowed.
The other cowboys reluctantly removed their hats, showing off their
Windows“It’s blue,” Henry said out loud to no one. “It’s not aqua, it’s not turquoise, it’s not cerulean. It’s just blue.” He looked out at the sky again, clearest he had seen in a long time. A few clouds drifted across the expanse, the thin, wispy kind he thought was cotton candy when he was a kid.
“You can’t eat clouds, Henry!” He could see the two of them in his mind eye, he and George, playing outside. George was 7; Henry, 10, and they were best friends. “Clouds are made of water!”
“Well that don’t make any sense,” Henry could hear himself saying. “How do they stay up there if they’re water? And how come they look white? Water don’t look white!”
“I dunno,” George shrugged. “They stick together somehow, my teacher said.”
Henry looked up at those clouds now and smiled sadly. George had stopped coming over one day. Henry didn’t kn
Thanks for the Memories“No no no, honey,” Sylia muttered, kneeling next to the crumpled body in the pavement. “You have to wake up now. It’s time to wake up, you have to.” She pushed the being’s gray face back and brushed away dirt and gravel. “Wake up now, please,” Sylia pleaded again.
Sirens raised a cacophony around them, but she knew they were safe for now. This was not the only one, this was not the only body that had rained from the sky—there were so many more. Sylia could see three from where she sat. None of them moved.
As she sat there, she heard a sizzle and a loud pop, and looked up to see a newscaster appearing on one of the huge display screens in Times Square. Somehow, they had piped in volume, because she heard him say, “…threat has been neutralized.”
Neutralized? Such an inhuman word—ironic, considering, she thought.
The screen flipped to a woman, somewhere in Times Square as well, holding her coat together
Artemis The roar of the engine stirred the neighborhood from its quiet night. A few curtains rose and some dogs barked as a loud motorbike came to a stop at the corner of the street under a yellow streetlamp. Thick men’s leather boots padded for small feet played their deep song on the concrete. A hoodie hid under a large biker jacket. The hood covered a petite, exotic face.
Artemis strolled down the street, more curtains rose and a few curious stares followed her as she continued her way, glancing briefly between the numbers on the scattered mailboxes, quietly counting them out loud.
"35, 36, 37… Ah, there we go, 38."
A small smile crossed her lip as she eyed the house she came to. The place was dark, unlike the rest of the houses around. It looked dead, dark and rather old. She examined the windows and both sides of the house for an entry point. Nothing to climb, and the humidity made sure no one would leave a window
Missing PersonsI live in a world of fear.
I am not the only one who is afraid; no, every person here fears the night, if not for themselves then for someone they love. Mothers fear for their children, husbands for their wives, children for their sisters and brothers. No one fears for their friends; no one has friends anymore. No one dares.
It wasn’t always this way. I remember days before the fear, before the world was so paralyzed with its own terror that it forgot how to live. I remember walking through a park after sunset just for the pleasure of it. I remember being late for an appointment without anyone beginning to plan my Memorial. I remember life before people began to disappear.
It started slowly, coming on so gradually that it’s hard to say when it became normal for people to vanish on their way to the grocery store, or while walking the dog. Suddenly it was completely ordinary to see houses fall derelict, their owners mysteriously vanished somewhere beyond our reach.
The Myth of the SuccubusThe Myth of the Succubus
Yuki-Onna: a subspecies of succubus, they are native to Japan and are most active during the colder seasons. They most commonly approach their victims during snowy weather and feed on their energy through acts of passion, leaving them frozen husks should they decide to claim everything they are, body and soul. They are considered in-tune with the nature around them and possess cryokinetic abilities in addition to their seduction and illusory magic native to all succubi.
Blowfish Poison Kiss: “Death that is the excess of life.” The user kisses the victim, usually on the lips, and places a spell on them in the process. A human’s life energy, or ki, is regulated through specific points on the body, and this kiss causes those points to work at their maximum efficiency. As a result, the victim’s body produces a gross excess of life energy, expanding their body like a balloon and rendering them immobi
Zanpakuto: Chikara (Power, Strength)
Shikai: “Ute, Chikara!” (“Strike, Chikara!”)
Bankai: “Bankai! Konjiki Chikara!” (Golden Chikara! [Golden Power])
Shikai Form: A great, golden dragon emerges out of the blade and it can throw melted gold or gold fragments (Similar to Hitsugaia Toushiju)
Bankai Form: The Bankai form is a big, golden dragon completely off the blade that can answer to the user's call or even thoughs.
Blade: Short-Blade sword (Kodachi)
Guard: Dragon Wings gathred pointing to the back
Saya: Black with a golden ending below and above it ends up to a golden dragon that seems to be guarding the seath of the sword
Handle: Black, yellow and gold
RomanticizingShe approached him as he sat on the bed. Her knee pushed into the plush foam, sagged due to the abuse of over use. Her digits entwined as her elbows rested on his shoulders. The pressure sunk him into the doughy mattress.
“Romanticizing are we?”
His lips were parted; his eyes stared blankly at the cold wall. It was a cold blank wall, no paint ever applied to peel away, no picture ever hung to be taken off. It took a moment for his lips to connect, for him to clear his throat and mind, and reply.
“Not really… just wondering about the possibilities of where we could be…”
Her arms slid forward as her hands pressed gently into his chest, feeling each heave, each tingle that his body had to offer. However there wasn’t much to offer. He was calm, composed; his breaths left her hands to satisfy themselves with the bare minimum. But bare minimum was what they had always had.
“Isn’t that what we call romanticizing?” She chuckled as n
Bling“Carry me across the threshold,” she told me. “It’s tradition.”
“Well, dear, it’s a simple question of weight ratios. A five ounce bird cannot carry a one pound coconut, after all,” I quipped.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“It’s impossible for you to be any other size, love.”
“Just what are you saying?”
I realized at this point that perhaps I hadn’t thought this through enough. “Nevermind, dear. Up you go!”
My knees shook as I lifted her, shuffled forward, then sat her down.
“Now that wasn’t so bad!”
What could be done? I was in love with a robot.
Keep in Touch!
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