The First ProblemThe door wouldn’t open; that was the first problem. She had the right key. She knew that part. And she’d pushed. Hard.The First Problem by beeinthebottle
The girl twisted her hair between her fingers. She should have a magic saber saw, something. Something always in the stories gave the heroine a chance. But the door wouldn’t open, and she didn’t have a magic saw.
She plopped on the porch step. No key. No saw. No knight on horseback. She glanced around, half seriously, for a bottle that said “Eat me” or “Drink me”—even a caterpillar with a hookah.
The girl whistled, pulled out a copy of Archie and Jughead. A one-eared white cat butted its head against her leg. Then, she stomped up to the door. “Pretty please, door—open?”
Nothing. The cat butted her again. It was worth a try.
The girl lingered in the sun, kicking at the rocks on the sidewalk. Something hard glittered beneath her feet. She leaned over and saw a raised, silver button, sli
saltwateri.saltwater by beeinthebottle
the air smelled of cyanide
we walked along
some Amsterdam canal
you looked at me,
then the sky broke open;
and the rains came
what I know about taffy:
it makes kids happy
it's sold near piers
it sticks to your fingers when you eat it
it's almost the exact opposite of cyanide
you can't begin to believe you've had enough
until it's too late
what i know about cyanide:
it makes you sick
it kills quickly
it comes in bottles
it smells like almonds
it is almost the exact opposite of taffy
you can't begin to understand you're dying—
until it's too late
ProgressionIt is so easy to write about the future.Progression by neonxaos
All you have to do is grab a pencil and stab the paper,
scribbling forward-pointing arrows, saying "look! look!" to anyone
foolish enough to read, a mad gleam in your eye.
You can then turn the paper every which way.
Someone will be sure to follow.
My mother mourns her birthdays now.
She once told me that age doesn't matter
and kept to that philosophy until it did.
It was the day she could not get up from the floor
at her own volition, and everything became a mirror.
When I was ten, I told her that everything dies.
It is so easy to write about the past.
Everyone remembers everything wrong,
as if they were actually there. The truth is this:
nothing is impossible, everything is improbable.
I saw a phoenix at the lake, and I see the look on your face.
Were you there?
She tells me how she saw her father in the yard after the accident,
but I was not there.
They tell us that the missiles are for world peace,
but who sat around that table?
All we have
A Day Well Spent
Sand between the toes.
The roar of the ocean.
A child's laugh.
Coming home, tired, sun baked, and wet,
Yet happy: A day well spent.
If you could instantly master a different art style, what would it be? I used to be reasonably good with an SLR camera; I'd like at least the same level of skill on my DLSR. (I finally learned what most of the settings mean, so maybe....) I'd love to be able to sketch in charcoal. But I can't sketch. I'm hopeless.
What was your first favorite? I think it was this one, by Slinkers:
What type of art do you tend to favorite the most? Poetry. Not much of a surprise there, either.
Who is your all-time favorite deviant artist? "All-time favorite"? I hate lists, and this isn't meant to be one. A few people have stood out, though—not simply as artists, but for a lot of reasons, and in no particular order: Bark, FuzzyHoser, riparii, STelari, Scarlettletters, RichardLeach, thetaoofchaos. Love to you all.
If you could meet anyone on DeviantArt in person, who would it be? Someday Ms. FuzzyHoser will actually grace us folks on the Left Coast. She's been taunting us with it for ages. I'd go visit her, but I can't speak Southern.
How has a fellow deviant affected your life? Wow, now I'm tearing up. Mr. Bark believed in me, and so I started to believe in me. RIP, my friend.
What are your preferred tools to create art? My Asus Transformer notebook, or any laptop. I barely remember how to write long hand.
What is the most inspirational place for you to create art? Pubs. Hands down. They are great places to be solitary enough so you can write but not so solitary that you feel as if you are totally alone in the world and nobody loves you.
What is your favourite DeviantArt memory? A while back now, I stumbled on this really kewl pen that had a hat icon on it, so I sent it to RichardLeach for reasons that should be obvious. I was chuffed with myself (and apparently still am...). For those not in the know, Richard's icon is: