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Whatcha Readin?The sky, thickly clouded and grey, blanketed the city like an over-bearing parent who would hug too long before bidding their child adieu for the day. The clouds rolled, an ethereal creature brought upon the earth as if born from the chanting of believers and the lighting of candles. Heavy with rain as a woman is with child before birth, the sky heaved a sigh of bitter distress at the abandoned streets of December. Trees bent in the wind as if the weight of what was to come was too much for them to bear, and shops closed early, simply because they can.
Alone, walking as if she were surrounded by many, in a thick mass of purples and blues, scarves and jackets, scurried a blonde girl with rose petal lips which formed unspoken words to match the music that played in her ears. Her curls framed her face as if they were specifically designed to act like a barrier from the cruel, grey world around her. Glancing over wire-framed glasses, her grey eyes glanced about, seeming to seek out another
The Lion's ManeWhen I was in middle school, kids could be very cruel. To them I was ugly. I was stupid. I was untalented. I was clumsy. And it was worse because I was in the gifted group, so they had a much larger vocabulary to work with when insulting me.
Instead of simply being ugly- which is hard enough to go home with- I was repulsive, hideous, ghastly, revolting and offensive. I wasn't just stupid to them, I was also ignorant, dense, foolish, simple, vapid and even obtuse, when they felt like the other insults were getting old. I wasn't just plain untalented, I was incompetent, undeveloped and inadequate in comparison. And they could never leave it at clumsy, no, I was inept, gawky; a tactless, blundering oaf.
Sometimes they got creative. One day in science, a boy I liked ventured from their usual insults and decided to comment on my hair, describing it like a lion's mane, to which I took offense. It was wild, he told me, too frizzy.
As I got older my hair became an interesting topic for insults
Brendan's VisitThe mental hospital was in worse condition than any other time Brendan had seen it. The cold, grey building stuck out in the green landscape, though the ivy growing on it's old walls helped blend it into the background. Though the fence was tall and intimidating and the yard unkempt there was a certain quaintness about the old building.
As he was brought in by a maid, Brendan made note of the minimal lighting and stench that was stronger than the smell of thirty men aboard a ship for several months; which was a scent Brendan was very familiar with.
The woman who checked him in was short and rather stout, and beneath her choppy, dark hair she had very pretty blue eyes. Brendan admired her quiet voice through the shrill screaming that came from somewhere in the hospital. When she called a guard over to lead him to the patient he'd come to see he saw her eyes light up with excitement.
The guard himself was the near opposite, tall and bulky with muscle. He wore plain clothes, and had his o
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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