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SwapThe bank Oliver used was quite dignified with its high ceilings and dark wood paneling.  It appeared that whoever owned the place had gone through some lengths to preserve this atmosphere of manicured decorum, for though the building was old it was nigh impossible to find any trace of decay within its walls.  

The tiles on the floor were almost perfectly flush with one another, something Oliver could appreciate as his wheelchair made its winding way between velvet ropes toward the teller.  The fake plants were free of dust or cobwebs, each little sprig formed to look as similar to its neighbors as possible. 
Hawking RadiationAs he walks into the church, Thomas leaves the main lights off. He should start setting up for the Wednesday service—he's preaching about perseverance, mostly to inspire himself—but he just can't care. The only light comes through the small stained glass windows on the west side of the building. Everything is shadow and mystery, age and polished wood. Even in this cherished place, it's so easy to lose himself in the darkness, so easy to focus on his problems instead of his faith.

Cloth rustles. He isn't alone. Thomas looks toward the front of the church. She... she can't be here. This isn't real. Quietly, he walks down the center
The Wood Beyond the World Kitty-cat did not know where he was. One minute he had been with Tommy, his best friend. The next, he was here. Here was a forest, a forest of such grandeur and age that it was nearly daunting. Great evergreen trees towered up towards the bluest sky you could ever imagine. He looked around, quite confused and a little frightened by this sudden change.

"He...hello?" he called out to the forest, wondering if there was someone there to answer him.

As it turned out, someone was there. "Hello!" called a voice, one deep and filled with cheer. "One moment, I'll be right with you!"

Kitty-cat stood still, waiting for whoever had called out to c
WineHelena tried white wine first: the liquid wasn't quite colourful enough to qualify as a daring drink, nor was it so transparent that one might mistake it for water. When her tongue stopped arching up into the sour stream to avoid the foreign edge and could sit quietly and behave as she swallowed, Helena thought it might be time to take another glass. She did so, and she wasn't sick, and so she decided the time was right to try rosé. She wasn't sick after that, either, and after congratulating herself on her constitution, she reached for the red.

After she had thoroughly customised her velvet skirt with three bottles' worth of liquid and
A life. - Draft OneHear me read it!

We were thrust, unexpectedly, into a tumultuous and decaying world. I refused to open my eyes because all about me were tears and screaming. Her voice was clinical, cynical and cold. See no.. Hear no.. With a shy, initial grasp for breath I felt the tinge of sulphuric malignance infuse into my body. My body spasmed and my voice strangled out its first sound. What a sound. For my primitive mind it could have been enough to ward off my enemies. To purify the air and neutralise the suffocating hostility. It wasn't.

Sometimes they would laugh, which I understood to be hurtful.. but with a curious glance in their direction I rea
Colors of a Sunflower--C.Her name was Sunflower, but it didn't suit her; she had black hair and blacker eyes and ink-stained fingers. Everything about her was dark and shadowy. Sometimes she found herself envying anything with color - when she looked at the other girls with their sunlit smiles and strawberry lips, she started to ache.

His name was Kirk and it didn't matter that it didn't suit him because everyone knew him as Hamster. He spent his mornings peeling the sleep from his eyes; his afternoons were dedicated to deciphering the codes of a cheerleader's walk. He used to beg strangers to read his fortune in the dimples of his cheeks; his favorite line used to
The VanThe automated muezzin calls the children to prayer.  They run with sunwarmed faces, coins clenched in sticky fists. "Ninety-nine please, mester,"  then carefully away licking icecreams: heartwarming.

A small scuffed boy stands forlorn, his lolly fallen to the ground.  I approach benignly, offer him a pound for another.

"Fuck off, paedo," he replies, running away.  "I'm not eatin' it.  You'll put Rohypnol in it or something."

I walk home.
Its Not Yet Time For Him"Step right up, right here folks.  Step up and see the amazing Pohl Sardoc use his machine to read your mind.  If I can't read it, you will one thousand dollars."  A man called out to those walking by his small tent.

A figure stops a few feet away and tips his head to the side.  He wonders if such a machine would work on him, with all that goes on inside his head.  He steps up and opens his mouth to speak.

"Ah, a volunteer!"  Pohl calls out instead, "Please, step inside.  It is a cost of five dollars for me to read your mind, and if I fail... I'll give you one thousand."

The man follows along him into the tent and is sits at the small tabl
Birds in flight.She says I'm a bird, but I know she loves to fly
as we're soaring down the freeway,
ending our adventure and migrating back
to our own worn out homes.
Now we're driving through cities
that died before we were born
and watching men without faces
retrace their footsteps through the cold.

The sun's been gone for months
but the darkness is just beginning
to taste the edges of the sky
and lights are streaming by
above boarded up windows and weather-faded signs.

The roads branch out and the men trudge on
with hands in their pockets and snow in their shoes
and head bent low like crows in the morning.
What is there left
FamilyHe tells me to stop fidgeting, I tell him to.

He throws his head back and laughs. He always had the best smile, the best laugh. Teeth not too straight, and laugh too loud. But infectious, and enticing. It was a sound I hadn't forgotten after eleven months, but missed greatly.

I don't know why, but I expected a big change. Nothing has. His hair, still buzzed short, a sharp black against his tan skin. The reddish scar jutting out from his hairline, halfway down his forehead. I always thought his tattoos were his best feature. One he wasn't born with, but he wouldn't be himself without. His gang symbols, lacing his neck. Reminding him, and eve
the bluest of flames}!{
such is the stillness
when we have touched
                   in longing and in the bluest of a flames

it is then
when we have bathed the depths of our hearts
                                          with the warmth of tears

it is then
that these adornments
these gifts
of the softest of lights
... .sends me to quiver
 
RainPitter patter pit pat
The sound of the rain
A soft and gentle sound
Washes away the pain

Pitter patter pit pat
The sound of the rain
Lulling some to sleep
With its gentle sound

Pitter patter pit pat
The sound of the rain
Harsh against glass
Intertwined with the wind

Pitter patter pit pat
The sound of the rain
Soft against the leaves
Those break the fall of the rain

Pitter patter pit pat
The sound of the rain
Heard against our harsh breath
As we lie together
Broken glasspaint me rose red and let me lie
the music is not here
the rhythm is slowly being filtered
by the breaking of my glass
and i am falling alone beneath the moon
with nothing to hold onto
…with nothing to keep as a reason

i cannot breath
i cannot seem to find the essence of living
and while my soul sleeps in Decembers dreams
the cicada calls to me
of June and what could be
…but even still i cannot find a reason

there once was a burn inside
a burn that ingested frailty
that fascinated drama
with the eccentricities of love
but what is left now are the mauled petals
the ripped & torn adorations of
condescending wo
Strangers on a TrainI got on this train at half past two without telling a soul.  My family never could have let me go if they had known.  But this was something I had to do; I really had no choice.

The people gazed politely out the tinted windows, or on the floor, or at their own pale hands folded neatly in their laps.  But never at me or anyone else.  The car I was in was dimly lit, small, cold, with orange plastic seats lined up on either side of the center aisle.  I stood in the middle, one arm hooked around the metal pole near the door for balance and the other buried deep in my pocket.  There was no luggage at the feet of the other passengers, nor was the
a woman with wallsthe queen realised an empire. she conjured it straight
to the sky and said sunshine. and said be happy, and said
harbour yourselves in the existence of trees and sand

and moon. she wore a blue polka-dotted bathing suit and
a wide-brimmed hat, solid with belief in everything. she opened
her arms decisively and made room for entropy under

the glass. the tide came in and she dug out the walls.
her breath caught in the capacity of the ocean when she tried
to sing sunshine. her sterling crown lay wrecked upon

the coast. she said dissolution is an element of legend,
and said atlantis is the triumph of chaos, and said smile. smile.
this u
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I was outside my house, not a place I've ever lived but possibly similar to one of the places my aunt, uncle, and cousin have lived at. The houses and streets were bigger than they are at my current place.

My dad had bought me a new car, some kind of big red clunky looking brand. I was out with it in the driveway cleaning it and looking at it when I heard some kids approaching on the sidewalk. They were probably no older than 12. They were talking about how much they liked to mess up cars. They put graffiti on my neighbor's car, but I was too lazy to do anything to make them stop. When they were done they

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:iconthewritersmeow: :iconwriters-guild-da: :iconscribblers-anonymous: :iconlive-love-write:
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Wardog

:iconleonca:

I can't let him see that I'm scared. I have to be a good boy and he doesn't like it when I'm scared. Look at my tail wagging, Mr. Vance. I'm happy to be here.

"Getting excited, are we? Go on then. Help them out with a little distraction."  

Oh no, he wants me to go closer to all those guns. Be a good boy be a good boy.

So loud. They're all yelling and shooting and it's hurting my ears and wish it would stop. I can feel my heart beating faster. I don't like that. Stay in the shadows stay in the shadows.

I can smell them. Five different people. Men. Sweat, gunpowder, blood.

Be a monster.

Their eyes can't see in the dark. I'm safe as long as I keep moving. They'll shoot at the spot the noise came from but I won't be there anymore so I'm safe.

"żQué es eso?"

"ˇSonaba como el diablo!"

That was close. Be careful be careful. I'm scared but they are too and that means that they won't shoot as well so I'm safe.

Go to the window go to the window. Be scared of my voice. Go.

Mr. Vance's men are so good at shooting. He will be very happy with them and call them good boys now. The ones who talk weird are dead but I don't have to think about it because I am a good boy and Mr. Vance will be happy with me and call me a good boy.

Wag and pant and whine. Please pay attention to me and say what a good boy I was.

Oh, you guys found some money. Everyone wants money so much and it must be good but it is not for me because Mr. Vance never gives me any.

Oh hi oh hi look what I did! I did a good job didn't I?

"This is all we found."

"That's fine. It's more about sending a message, really. Yes, Dog, I see you there. Good boy."

701

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:iconleonca:

Wardogby *Leonca

DescriptionDetailsShare
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Music prompt for :iconyouasthenarrator: Piece: Final Fantasy IX: Kuja Theme - Millennium Version [link]

Characters-
Dog, the amnesiatic shapeshifter
Samuel Vance, the crime lord [link]

Vance’s men trap a few members of a rival gang in an old building, and it is Dog’s job to distract them to make the shootout end quicker.

Decided it was finally time to try a music prompt. I’ve heard many people say that music inspires them while they write, but I’ve never tried to use it as the basis for a piece.
When I heard this music the first thing that came to mind was a tense feeling before a battle. I needed to try my hand at writing first person from Dog’s POV, so here I imagined his nervousness as he puts his life on the line to serve his master.
©2010-2013 *Leonca
Category: Literature / Prose / Fiction / Fantasy / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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June 19, 2010
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:iconalecwolfe:
Mood: Love ~AlecWolfe Oct 29, 2010
Interesting. The POV is a nice change from the norm. I like the one track mind idea. This was really quick and easy to read. Great piece and congrats on the DLD.
Reply
:iconleonca:
*Leonca Oct 29, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you. =)
Reply
:icondailylitdeviations:
=DailyLitDeviations Oct 29, 2010
Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DLD (Daily Literature Deviations) in a news article that can be found here [link]
Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by ing the News Article.

Keep writing and keep creating.
Reply
:iconmiss-s-bird:
*Miss-S-Bird Oct 29, 2010
It is difficult to give a narrative voice to an animal, without loosing the sense of the creature. In this short story, you manage to create that voice well, finding the balance between characterisation and informative voice.

~Rovanna suggested this piece to me and I have decided to suggest this to *DailyLitDeviations. If chosen your piece will feature in one of their daily newsletters. Good luck!

It would be appreciated if you would take the time to send me a note with a link to any prose pieces, by any other deviants, that you feel deserve to be featured. :)
Reply
:iconleonca:
*Leonca Oct 29, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Glad you enjoyed it. I always like to be able to entertain by creating unique voices for characters. =)
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:iconalphabeticalmisery:
~AlphabeticalMisery Jul 17, 2010
Oh wow. I really went through this quickly. I liked how Dog (his name is Dog?) kept wanting to be called a good boy. :meow: It seems very much like an animal. I like it.
Reply
:iconleonca:
*Leonca Jul 17, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks. =)
Dog is not his real name. It was given to him by his master Vance after he was brainwashed to be his slave. He is a shapeshifter, so it is secretly demeaning because it emphasizes his canine side.
Reply
:iconcu-sith1:
=Cu-Sith1 Jun 27, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Dog is so cute, I love his personality, as simple as it is =D I like the repeition and the wya his mind is constantly flipping from onething to another, very dog-like.
Reply
:iconleonca:
*Leonca Jun 27, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks. =)
Reply
:iconcu-sith1:
=Cu-Sith1 Jun 27, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
:)
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