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How The Other Half LivesThe door swung open unexpectedly, and a chill of cold air rushed through the otherwise warm bar. A couple of patrons, upset from their beers and conversations, looked up to see Sol Reese enter, closing the door a little bit too slowly behind him. Sol, baby-faced and rosy-cheeked from the cold, wiped some of the flakes of snow off the shoulders of his coat, looking around him nervously before shuffling a couple of spaces inside.How The Other Half Lives
These people are mostly townies, he thought, unwinding his scarf a little. A different type of townie than the type he was used to. A lack of determination in th
by ~festivemanb
ShoeboxesShoeboxesShoeboxes
Ian Speeking was laying on the bed taking an afternoon doze. He had the local newspaper folded against his chest, the television was still on, and the late afternoon light slanted in through the unblinded window. His day-dreams had been anxious, but he didn’t know why. He was not worried about school, exactly, but he found himself thinking about the coming term as he was waking up. There would be plenty to do, and he really had to hit the ground running (as he would often say) just to get through the year in one piece. He heard the sound of his grandmother’s
by ~festivemanb
The True Story of John HenryThe True Story of John HenryThe True Story of John Henry
John Henry was a black man. He was six feet straight of useful muscle. He held a hammer in his hand from the day he popped out his mother to the day he laid himself in the grave. This was when America was still fresh, when its stories were only halfway told. Then the world was sleepy waking up from its dreaming, and everything was a little bit lazier than it is now – it’d take what we’d think of as a week for it go get from Monday to Tuesday sometimes. Back then, some animals were still curious, some people still were too, and it was not unknown f
by ~festivemanb
You are a mystery, just like..There are hieroglyphics hidden in the prairie’s hills whispering mysteries sometimes when the wind moves just right through the sways of big bluestem and goldenrod. Speaking in a shuffling, dusty voice…. The roots cling tough to the black earth, and spell their words to the soil and worms.You are a mystery, just like..
It’s hard to hear from the road that hems the prairie’s hips as the blades of grass blur together when you move too quick. You can catch the plants dancing from the window of a squat farmhouse, or from the city, but you will not be close enough to see the plants speak unless you walk a
by ~festivemanb
Favourites
The Garden In ReverseThe Garden In ReverseThe Garden In Reverse
He bit her from the other room unaware of what he'd done
He found her lying there the drops of blood two unassuming tears like rubies at her neck
He put his mouth to hers and tried to kiss away the pain
when, with a snake's unexpected grace she opened up her mouth and poured the poison out, as though
it were no more than a mouthful of words she wished she hadn't heard
by ~epimetheus
WinterWinterWinter
I look out the window as the train starts rolling lazily in the growing dark days of winter.
We’re all lazy these days.
My reflection bobs along with the rhythm of the car ahead, mingling with the other winter weathered faces piled against each other like dying autumn leaves.
Soon there will be snow,
and the faces will turn as ashen as the slush on the curb and vacant against the bitter winter winds that bite at their cheeks.
Our only solace
will be the quiet winter dreams of soft sunshine through lace curtains as we pull on our down comforters a
by ~rainey
Concrete KissConcrete KissConcrete Kiss
I.
The city is a glass knife a blunt blade against the edge of the sky carving heaven into pieces sold by the foot length and width: new measures of respect Relationships now defined by distance propriety pared into necessity handshakes hugs and the artificial kiss
Skylines divided by highway and skyrise distance diminished by subways and trains riding smoothly skyward in elevators silent, but heavy with bodies and breath sliding skin to skin into a crowded car slick with the smell of metal and tensed flesh
Unle
by ~epimetheus
Hey! You can see my stuff, and give me money.deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Grinnell, Iowa
- Interests: interesting
- Favourite poet or writer: Reading Nadeem Aslam & Doris Lessing
- Favourite game: speech
- Favourite gaming platform: SNES
- Favourite cartoon character: Pogo
- Personal Quote: Never let facts get in the way of a good story.
- Email: mackiebr@grinnell.edu
- AIM: festivemanb
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--
"most of this garbage I write
that these people seem to like
is about you, and how I let you infect my life..."
-Atmosphere
i'm intrigued by your work...
i'll definitely keep reading
~katrina
i tried swearing at it, but its hard plastic cover seems to be cuss-word-protective.
--
Days of wine and roses, days of wine and roses
All the artists flew in and all the arseholes flew out in '72
<`MinorKey> and don't drink so much that you remember having fun...
--
if the music's too loud, you're too old
I'll be keeping an eye out for your work in the future ^_^.
By the way, is your favorite game FF3 or FF6? Those titles always get confused. Anyway, I was just curious XD;;.
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