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Secrets of a DreamWhen you wake up from a dream, what is the first thing you do?
You remember as much as you can.
But how do you remember your dreams when you have them the first time?
You tell someone, you write it down, or even draw things that were easy to recognise.
When you wake up from a dream, what is the first thing you say?
I reckon it’s something like “What was that all about?”
Now I will ask you, have you ever understood any dream you’ve had?
Think carefully and maybe you’ll realise something…
I believe the dreams you remember most are the ones that may affect your life.
Ever dreamt of your greatest fear before you realised what your fear was?
Well, that dream may have caused you to be scared.
Falling from a great height, running from something that wanted to hurt you, you get the idea.
Ever dreamt of something you enjoy and realised it has or will affect your life?
Computer chair racing on your school leaver’s day, meeting a famous person where you
Apocalypse Artist - A short story (WIP)I didn't know how to feel about the way the war ended. It felt sudden. Surreal. Sure, there were signs this might happen. Our economy failed almost overnight, it seemed. Chaos shortly followed that. When people didn't have the means to get by in our damaged society, violence became the new normal. What really did it were the raids. I never thought they would come to my city. When we saw the bombers overhead...
Another stroke of white paint here... to highlight the bombshell...
I scratched my nose, smearing some of the paint on my face, and stepped back to look at my newest painting. The wall of the old warehouse now held a fresh mural depicting the war. Bombshells hovered just above the ground. People were running from the impending blast, though they wouldn't escape. Fear was captured in all of their faces in that terrible moment.
I peered over the three buckets of paint I had used for this mural. There wasn't much left, but I could use them again. I placed the lids back onto th
Shadow of a memory
Long has the time passed for us. We see our future, a shamble of the illusion we once held. The memory of what could have once been, and now, nothing more than a dream just out of reach. We reach out to the memories of childhood, desperately grasping onto the simpler moments of those times. Oh how we long for those days when the world still held wonder and endless possibilities. But we are grown now, and must move forward. Past the memories and into the shadows of the now. And sometimes I can’t help but wonder; what lies beyond these shadows? Will the light be my salvation, or my own damnation?
I am your constant follower.
I am the one who cleans up the mess the humans create, making sure all the souls goes to the place they belong.
I am the master of time, I will always now when your time has come.
I might even be your saviour, making sure that you won’t go until the right hour has struck.
I am your fear, the fear of dying, and I am the creator of your agony and doubt about the afterlife.
I am the one you might hate, you hate me because of the life’s I have taken from you.
I am walking beside you when your last days are approaching.
You will only be able to see me when your time has come.
Then you might beg me to spare you, you will tell me all the things you have left to do, all the people you want to love for just a little bit longer.
I will only listen to your words and give you the same answer that I have given to so many humans: “Your time has come, and nothing can change that.”
But until that day, I will be around, wa
Words on a Page I was alone on the bus, curled up against the window with my backpack on my knees, and surrounded by people who were too tired to realize I was among them. I didn’t blame them; everyone just wanted to get home. And besides, I got the seat all to myself.
I always find it ironic that I choose to be near people when I shove them away. I’m most comfortable alone and yet I chose to sit in the most popular seats. Which then became invisible the moment I took one. Everyone passed me by, not even meeting my gaze as they walked on, grinning and shouting half a car length to their friends and holding conversations loud enough I could hear them through my headphones.
Like I said, I was alone. It made me wish I had friends. But even my brother didn’t want to ride the bus with me. If I had been the one to get out of class early, I would have waited for him. The one other person I knew who was heading to the same general area of t
Help Me I'm Dying Here- An English AssignmentRead the description before the story, and please, please try to help me
Ibrahim clutches his stomach in an attempt to silence its obnoxious growling, this action proves to be useless and he knows he has to pay a visit to the Grand Bazaar.
Visitors to the city of Constantinople see the Grand Bazaar as a place of beauty. The array of bright colours, the various smells of local cuisine and the mixing of many cultures are all viewed as a marvel, something to commit to memory so it can be shared as a wonderful experience once tourists return home.
Ibrahim’s views on the Grand Bazaar are not nearly as wonderful.
Walking into the Grand Bazaar, he takes note of the fact that yet another body has been added to the collection of corpses swinging on ropes tied to the branches of a large tree just to the side of the entrance to the Bazaar. The bodies are hanging as a warning against rebellion, but they no longer scare anyone, people here have become use to death.
Poverty, hunger and cruelty
Shut DownIt starts by laying on your back and letting your arms and legs fall wherever they can. This is the only easy part. To go any further, you have to master the mental aspect. The only problem with that, is that once you master it, it can control you sometimes. After you figure out how to master your mind, it will begin this process against your will- mostly during waves of depression.
To master the mental aspect, you must relax your body. Let your mind think about everything that's ever made you cry. Think of the things that make you feel so low that maybe- just maybe, you're dead.
That's when your breathing disappears, your chest slowly stops moving until all that's left is your empty rib cage. Your body goes cold and your blood turns to ice. Your eyes fade and go fuzzy- but you don't blink. You don't need to anymore.
This is what some people call “inner peace”. Some call it “control of the mind and body”. I call it shut down. This is when your emotions disappear
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More