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Dinner DateOn his way to meet his beloved Verg trotted by the building where humans cut up dead animals to prepare for their strange custom of cooking. The gentle night breeze wafted alluring scents from the back, while confirming that no humans lingered about. The runoff collecting in muddy pools ensured the slaughterhouse’s placement at the edge of town, where few humans had to live within scenting-distance. For the Ghoul community it was a priceless location for raising a family.
Verg flopped in one of the puddles and rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air. It felt so good he grinned like a child, tongue lolling out between broken yellow teeth. When the scent was well ground into his tattered clothing he rose, shook himself, and continued on his way.
Taim’s den was an hour’s trot outside of town. Usually she didn’t bother to make the trek, choosing instead to hunt meager game in the semi-wild region. Better to live with hunger than leave your child unguarded in
The Human's DaughterThe Human’s Daughter: A Desert Ghoul Legend as Recorded from Oral Form by T. P. Hade of the Nonhuman Cultural Illumination Project
Once there was a little female named Zief. She was much loved by her parents, but to her misfortune they were foolish people. They took risks where they were not needed. When she grew old enough to accompany them on hunts, they began teaching her how to steal from the wandering human tribes who passed through their territory.
One night they left her in a thorn bush and told her to watch how they took food or clothing or other items from the human’s tents while they slept. They underestimated the alertness of the human watchman, and were seen as they left with arms full of treasures. The humans shot them full of arrows, and they died before Zief’s eyes.
It so happened that this tribe had made enemies of other tribes, as is common among humans. One of these tribes watched from a distance for a chance to attack, and saw it in the distraction
The Selfish MateThe Selfish Mate: A Desert Ghoul Folk Tale as Recorded from Oral Form by T. P. Hade of the Nonhuman Cultural Illumination Project
Once there was a selfish male named Tuuk. His mate was Auwt, and she was a kind, thoughtful female.
It happened that Auwt became ill, and could not exert herself for long without succumbing to exhaustion. Tuuk promised to bring her food until she was strong enough to again leave the den and hunt with him.
On the first night of hunting alone Tuuk discovered a nest of snakes. He dug them up and ate them, so happy to fill his belly he could think of nothing else. When there was only one tiny snake left he remembered his mate. He brought the snake to her and said, “All night I have wandered the territory, and this was all I could find.”
Auwt took it and patted him on the hand. “May a thousand blessings return your generosity,” she said.
On the second night of hunting alone Tuuk discovered a patch of desert melons. He gobbled them up, so h
Desert Ghoul Creation MythThe Shaper Creates Earth from the Carcass of a Lion: A Desert Ghoul Myth as Recorded from Oral Form by T. P. Hade of the Nonhuman Cultural Illumination Project
In the beginning was the black sky, and all matter existed in the form of the few beings which dwelled in it. The stars wandered it like restless flocks of birds. They were pursued by two beings- the Great Lion, which preyed upon them, and The Shaper, who loved their beauty. (Author’s Note- though a god-like figure, The Shaper is viewed more as a force of nature, and does not require worship to encourage him to maintain order in the world.)
The Shaper herded some stars together into clusters which took the shape of beasts capable of fending off the Great Lion, but his work was slow, and the Lion was hungry. The Shaper feared he would be left all alone in an empty sky, so he made up his mind to kill the Lion.
He took the long bone from his leg and scraped away a sharp point on one end with his teeth. This end he thru
The Honor of HesiemPhil curled into a ball on the filthy cobblestones, felt the blood soak through his shirt, and tried to remember if werewolves were cannibals. The mugger had plunged a knife into his gut and extracted the money from his pocket with practiced efficiency. He could imagine no other motive for the owners of those glowing yellow eyes to be assembling like a flock of nocturnal vultures. He shivered with pain and yelled, each cry for help growing feebler than the last.
The sole functional street lamp was aflutter with moths enjoying the cool summer night. Yellow eyes bobbed at the edge of the light. Phil caught glimpses of long claws and lanky canine forms. He found a loose stone and threw it with a pitiful scream of rage.
A small figure broke away from the others and crept into the light. If it was a werewolf it was a sickly looking one. It had oversized round ears and appeared to be missing any trace of fur or a tail.
Phil squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps this was just a hallucination, the f
MastersFaehound lowered his nose to the dirt and took an air sample. Particles of dust, plants, and animals drifted with the air into his nasal scent analysis chamber. Filters caught particles while air was ejected through tiny holes under his eyes. The filters generated a list of inorganic materials and species, complete with an estimate of time since sample deposit. Faehound lifted his head and wagged his tail. “Master, Mistress, Tinchild, we are here.” His measured, cheerful voice emerged from a circle of small holes on his throat. “The fairy scouting party returned through the portal approximately 3.43 hours ago. There has been no further activity from this side of the portal.”
Tinchild waved a lantern over the forest scenery. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his fingers on his chin, as he had learned to do after careful observation of humans in a state of heightened curiosity.
Faehound was excited for Tinchild. The Masters said he could not go far from home because
Bloodline Curse"I do not want them to see him.”
Yril lowered his ears and frowned at his mate. He knew he couldn’t keep it from happening, but he wished he could pretend it wouldn’t for a little while longer.
Taiph nuzzled the child sprawled on his belly between her arms. Rayld was only four months old. He had no way of knowing that life was more than warm earth, mother’s milk, and naps. His pudgy legs twitched as he slept.
She met Yril’s eyes and held them, unblinking. “They are old and wise,” she said. “They may be the only ones who know how to fix him. We do him no good by putting it off.”
She was right. He knew it and he couldn’t do anything about it. “All right,” he said, reaching out to run a finger over one of his son’s floppy little ears. “I will find them and bring them here so you do not have to carry him away from the den.”
He poked his head out of the den’s main entrance tunnel, scanned for dan
Werewolf LessonsFather’s words: “Keep your head down. Don’t look him in the eyes unless you’re prepared for a fight to the death.”
Luke kept his eyes on the worn floorboards between his paws. Soft moonlight glowed through the window. The stunning view of the city spread out beneath the hill would be quite enjoyable, if not for the company.
The gang leader reclined on an antique velvet couch riddled with claw punctures. “This is your youngest?” he said.
“Yes,” Father said. His head was bowed, posture rigid, scent tinged with fear. “He is a good boy. Very responsible. He will inherit the butcher shop. We are certain he will manage it wisely.”
Overwhelming scents rose from the floor. Blood, sweat, fur shed from dozens of different coats. Dried puddles of stale beer. Their voices laughed and growled from every corner of the old building. At the first hint of displeasure from their leader they would flood into the room with murderous
Biter, BittenEllie Hade set the basket of soup ingredients by the stove, got the fire started, and plopped into a kitchen chair. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. An image of the day’s most challenging patient rose to the top of her thoughts. A runaway horse had trampled him and pulled a carriage over his broken body. Her assistance helped the doctor save him, but not before she decided to change tonight’s dinner to her favorite vegetation recipe. Travis called it You Don’t Want to Know soup, after the evening in which they decided not to swap work stories at dinner.
Tonight was one of her husband’s late nights, so she was in no hurry. After a hectic day at the hospital it was nice to come home and cook at her own pace.
Urgent knocks pounded the front door. Ellie sprang to her feet and raced to peer out the little round window set into it. A short, stocky woman stood on the doorstep. A boy who looked to be around sixteen years old leaned against her. He wore a ba
The Bear Girls
If I told you this story happened once upon a time, would you believe it then?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
Whether you believe me or choose not to, it happened. There were two little girls, and a bear.
And that is all I know.
At least, it is all I know for certain.
You were expecting more, weren't you? Very well.
One little girl was blonde, with skin white as snow, the other rosy and raven-tressed, so they say, but that doesn't seem very likely unless they weren't sisters at all, and I have always assumed they were sisters. It is almost inevitable that they were sisters. No story ever says much about the father. He was dead, or abandoned them. Perhaps they had two different ones. It's impossible to say.
I could tell you the girls were beautiful princesses who ran into the great dark forest to escape their wicked stepmother. Or perhaps they were abandoned by their poor woodcutter father who could no longer afford to feed them but could not stand to see them starve. Or were they just two ordin
GirlBarely under the shallow waters, she remained and surveyed the hillsides on the outer reaches, among the cool breezes, under a mild sun. Young girl noticed the circulation was on, undulations fluttered passed her, making light hills and valleys on the surface. She lowered her sight, thinking then of the texture of the bright blue pavement at her feet. All her range of feeling tuned to some mild volume, Girl remembered the pale afternoon shine, just a moment before a dark ingredient mixed with it, filling the light ripples with grayness. Girl’s eyes, still upon the area of her feet, observed the light blue pavement under the shallow pool reshuffle, quietly as the waters, into the pavement approaching the Funeral House.
Girl stood in the shadow of its front roofing, between the columns. Not far in the direction of her shoulder, the grasses weaving in and out of the burial stones rose and fell, faintly. She extended her gaze out this way, a
Help from the EighthIt was calm. Quiet. Content.. Things Ichbur didn't think he would ever find pleasing, only to be proven completely wrong. Everythign was perfect in his 'life', now. Not feigned perfection, no pretense, no stretching the truth.. Everything was truly perfect and he couldn't ask for better. There -was- no better. He had an amazing, gorgeous wife who adored him, for whatever reason she might see in him being 'worth it'.. He had Three wonderful, unique children, even if two of them might not be truly blood related, it couldn't make less of a difference to the Warlock. They had a quaint little house cosy and snug and away from too much 'hustle and bustle', unless the family, themselves, caused it.. He finally had a family. A life to br proud of. something to look forward to existing for. Both in the quiet and in the chaos.
Today had been particularly chaotic. The Twins had been coaching Sera on shadow-crafting, which he was proud to say she was quickly mastering. However, it did still have i
[Tarot vs. Kenny] Preventative Lesson"Oh KEN~NY!"
Oh this was going to be good. Tarot was a lot of things, but tolerant of threats he was not. Of course, Kenny MIGHT have been simply teasing when he said 'Hmm, well, lemme tell you a little secret....I live by a very strict code to never, ever eat humans, under any circumstances. However....I do like the occasional monkey every now and then.' Of course, the look had implied that Kenny wasn't talking about any of Tarot's underlings but rather Tarot himself. And naturally, threatening the self-proclaimed Monkey King with being made into a meal didn't sit well with Tarot. In fact, he'd lost some sleep over it. His paranoia was one thing when it came to day to day interactions with folks but Kenny was different. Kenny was one of the few people Tarot was sure could follow through on that threat--and while the roguish Monkey King couldn't deny that Kenny's tummy was more than pleasant to look at on the outside he wasn't sure he wanted to see it from the inside
Don't Miff the Monkey King"See, now, Kenny, this is why you don't ever want do stupid things. You do stupid things and I have to reciprocate by doing something clever to teach you the difference."
Tarot sat on the naga's back, legs crossed and his balance perfectly even as he looked down at the struggling naga under him. On one end, Kenny's tail was wrapped around the post, only barely clinging to the hold he had on it. On the other end, Kenny's finger tips clutched at the edge of the stone floor. And beneath him, yawning open into the darkness below was the trap that Tarot had laid for the naga...
It had been simple enough. Tarot, leading Kenny into the 'Monkey King's' so-called palace and temple under the guise of goodwill, had led the naga through the various pathways, explaining that since he was now the King of Monkeys (and a handsome one at that), that he wanted to give Kenny the grand tour of the hidden temple that had up until now been a home for many of the primates in the jungle, with the promise to e
Snow KittensSomeone is prodding him insistently. A nose, or maybe a paw, digging uncomfortably into his soft side. In his ear, a voice registers. "Belly! Belly, wake up!" He is not awake. He doesn't understand at all what's going on. Confused and groggy, he feebly kicks his legs. The voice - Dove's voice - hisses quietly in annoyance. "Get UP!"
The prickle of nubby milk teeth and drool collecting on his ear is still not enough to get the kit up. Sounding a little resigned, another voice comments, "He's really out. I don't think he's waking up." There's a response from Dove, but the words are muffled by her mouthful of Belly's ear. He tries to flick it away, but she retains her grip, and starts gnawing.
He's slowly starting to take note of what's going on. As he wriggles and furrows his brow, Zuzu pipes up. "Let him be, Dove. We're missing it!" The impatient thump of her paws on the packed dirt towards the entrance to the den. "And be quiet, guys, or you'll wake Papa and Mamas!" Dove, still
Fairy of DeathShe's the prettiest woman on earth. A dress woven from ivy and lilies whispers of death, unheard.
Is she even human? the prince thinks to himself as he tries to get closer. He wants to touch those rosebud lips. A faerie's kiss means immortality, doesn't it...
But she takes a delicate, white fingertip to prod his nose, and he falls back beneath the surface. Cold, black water embraces him. Sinking deeper, the prince hears only the first few notes of her song.
After the ritual is finished, the cursed witch of the woods cackles with laughter. She'll last another hundred years from now. A royal child’s bones, a drop of blue blood in the pond of youth... These days, she has given up rivalling dragons and stealing away fair princesses.
No one ever sets out to save the prince in a fairy tale.
ArrivalThe forest was covered in a thick, white blanket. The soft rustling of the falling snow muffled the scrunching of the lone wanderer's footsteps. Her hair had the same colour as the snow around her and her worn down parka was hard to see against the confers around her. The imprint of her feet were quickly filled by freshly fallen snow. The lone wanderer was on her way down the mountain. In a long forgotten time ago, her father's court had been up there, but now, there were only rock and snow left for her. Staying up there alone would not help her and she knew it. The way down would be exhausting for a human, but the wanderer wasn't one. She wasn't even mortal, as she had discovered to her own surprise. But that didn't make her careless. It would be a shame if she would get caught by an avalanche. This was her home and her domain, after all. It had been way too long since her last visit. It was good to be back, even though things had changed. The air was differently and glaciers had retr
Soul FlyUncle Levi and Auntie Gertrude and Katie didn’t miss Gramma. They didn’t even think about her until her Soul Fly Day came. Their flies were silver with big sparkly opal eyes, but Momma said the wood ones Grampa carved for us were just as good.
It was my first Soul Fly Day ever. Momma got me a new black dress and told me it was all right to cry. Katie’s dress had white ruffles and silver flies stitched into it. She pointed at my wood fly and called us poor.
There were so many people there was barely enough room for the shaman to get to Gramma. Everyone got real quiet so we could hear him say words I didn’t understand. Gramma’s Soul Fly came out of her mouth and started flying over us. It was like a paper doll, only just black. It landed on my head and Momma cheered and we sang Soul Fly Day songs. Katie whined about how she should have got the blessing because her fly was so pretty.
And that’s how my painting won first prize at the fair.
Unbirthday Literature ContestOur beloved home-on-the-internet turns fourteen (with a special "Alice in Wonderland" theme) this week, and we all know what "fourteen" means: acne, the step-and-sway at awkward school dances, and confusing emotions.
Or, it means a 14-themed, surrealist literature contest hosted by CRLiterature! This one allows both poetry and prose submissions, so there's something for everyone.
Dates NOW to Aug 19th, 2014, midnight PST (14 days long)
Tone Surrealism - blur the line between reality and the unconsciousTypes of Entries Both Poetry and ProsePoetry your entry must be a sonnet of 14 lines (for more about sonnets, check out this excellent article by futilitarian)Prose your entry must be a complete story, exactly 14 sentences longSubmission respond to this journal with a link to your submission and the words "CONTEST" and either "POETRY" or "PROSE"Also your submission must have a link to
Prompt: A surreal story that is 14 sentences long.
Word count- 185
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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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