Each administrator will choose one work from the galleries to feature for one month. Will be updated the first Sunday of every month.
The Black Widow
The Black WidowShe smiles,
Lovelorn DeathHe who loves must bear the pain
I’m Still Here
I'm Still HereEven after everything, I realize that
Time and Tide
Time and Tidewhat good is a day, with no hasty breeze?
The StretcherToday a boy sees a green-eyed girl for the first time
Every Little Thing-Chapter oneEvery Little Thing-Chapter one by Foxsnout45
"April!" I squealed, running to a large group hiding in the bushes. Sneaking ciggies before class I'm guessing. I've only had those awful things once, and I did it to anger mother.
"Joanie!" She yelped. I hugged her and silently reminded her to call me Sugar. I'm not going to be embarassed infront of all these very "cool" looking kids. She chatted and introduced me to the surrounding people. My eyes were drawn to two boys cooly offering a rushing teacher a smoke, and being declined each time. They were very good looking and funny. I like them. My eyes drew themselves to an approaching boy, he was sneaking up behind April. A "Teddy"? No,I think thats her boyfriend.
"Ive!" April kicked and squeal in his grasp. I looked a way as they began snogging it up. I'm not it to it, but the two boys I was watching earlier were making good game out of it. They made kissing sounds, they cheered him on, and even went as far as ask
YouYou, carving fingers - plunging into arms, legs, lips.You by lady-demented
You, nocturnal city - racing thoughts, flashing memories.
You, thundering pump - flooding and choking, drowning and screaming.
You, tremoring epidermis - shaking, shivering, quaking, quivering.
Are you - afraid?
Even An Angel Can FallWhat's your name?Even An Angel Can Fall by Treo-LeGigeo
Clarizza. What a beautiful name, what does it mean?
It means, angel.
"You are an angel Clarizza, my very own angel."
That's what you used to say, before everything happened.
I remember the time before the war when we lived freely, when there was no need to lie awake at nights listening for the shrill whistle of the falling bombs, when the newspapers weren't clogged up with reports of death and destruction, and when there was no fear of persecution.
You were tall, strong, the perfect Aryan man. You had no reason to fear. Me, however, my parents were of the Romani people; I was a gypsy.
The tragic story of my imprisonment was rapidly spread around upon the announcement of the "cleansing". You told everyone that I had attempted to flee the country, only to be found and captured on the way. And crouched in my hiding place I heard it all, from your frighteningly realistic sobs to our friends' awkward sympathies.
For months I lived among the cobweb covered
Breaking Fall The morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have appeared like a Garden if Eden of sorts if it wasn't for the plumes of dark grey city-smoke on the horizon. The cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me...Breaking Fall by Treo-LeGigeo
"Mr Parker, Mr Parker!" came the shrill cries of the paparazzi as the world famous movie star fought his way from the set back to his trailer. "Could you answer a few questions?" He ignored the onslaught and pushed his way past the hordes of fans, journalists, and magazine photographers. He didn't need this, not now. He had just received the worst phone call of his life and they wanted him to interrogate him about it? "Will you give us a quote?" He
MilagroShe lay on the narrow bed, connected to an almost frightening array of tubes, needles, and drips. Snatches of conversation flitted in and out of her awareness.Milagro by Treo-LeGigeo
" massive internal injury "
" close to death "
" no response "
" organs will fail if she does not wake soon "
She wanted to wake up. She tried so hard, but after two days of trying the small sliver of consciousness she was struggling to reach was only moving further and further away. And she was tired, so very tired.
On the fifth day she stopped fighting.
* * *
That voice. His voice.
"Evelyn, it's me, Adam."
Goodbye Adam. I'm sorry, I can't go on.
Something soft and small slipped into her hand.
"Remember the orange blossom I gave you on our wedding day? We both made promises that day. Fight this Evelyn. Wake up. Come back to me."
I can't fight anymore.
She felt something warm wrap around her fingers. Instinctively, they tightened.
"I know you can hear
The Broken Pieces of Her Sh...The Broken Pieces of Her Shattered HeartThe Broken Pieces of Her Sh... by Treo-LeGigeo
Silence Harrol sat at the loom, working her fast, slender fingers along the threads that would soon be her wedding dress. Her parents had been so excited when they told her that she was betrothed to Henry Almington, the local business personage. Of course, no one listened to her objections, that he was an arrogant drunkard who cared for nothing but money, and that he was drastically older than her, in his thirties, while she was only fifteen.
The bells tolled, "I now give you Mrs. Almington" Mrs. Almington, Mrs. Almington, Almington, Almington. The name rang in Silence's ears, the name she would have to bear like a curse for the rest of her life.
6 Years Later
Silence Almington slowly stirred the stew that would soon be dinner. It was the meal she cooked every night for her husband when he returned home to hurl abuse at her. She was nothing more than a slave. During the early days of their marriage he had treated her kindly, even s
Lady DeathThey think Death is the Reaper,Lady Death by Treo-LeGigeo
Carrying his scythe,
Able to disappear into vapour,
Like a shadow in light.
But no, Death takes the shape,
Of a person, a woman at that,
With a pitch black cloak a flowing cape,
A crucifix of coal, and grace like a cat.
On rhinestone boots she treads the land,
With midnight eyes she tracks her prey,
A spear of onyx in her hand,
Her hair of ink soaking up every sun's ray.
She dons a studded ebonite vest,
With denim of iron sitting on her hip
A blood stained cutlass at her wrist,
Rings of beryl through her lip.
Her ears are pierced with needle sharp bone,
Her eyelids smudged with ash,
Her mouth a deep, blood-red tone,
the colour of night on each eyelash.
So who is this Queen of Darkness?
Who can she be?
An answer finally comes to a question ageless.
Death, is me.
Not YouI thought there was a black hole,Not You by Treo-LeGigeo
In my chest, where others have a heart.
I've hurt so many and not cared at all,
But now there's a feeling which just won't part.
I see you standing there,
A victim you would have been,
But now I sit and stare,
Now I think differently.
Your innocence and your beauty,
The look you have in your eyes,
Took me back abruptly,
Took me by surprise.
You befriended me, unaware,
Then started changing me too.
I can't continue, no I can't bear,
To do what I planned to do.
Is this love no it cannot be,
Surely that couldn't come from,
Someone as heartless as me,
Or perhaps I'm wrong.
This I've never felt before,
What is it that you do?
I only know that I can't hurt you anymore,
No, not you.
FearI stand, the night closing around me,Fear by Treo-LeGigeo
I stare into the dark whirlpool of black,
I feel the cold wind lash at my skin,
I am afraid.
Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to go,
Lost in the woods,
Stranded in a void of nothingness.
Rustling of leaves,
Frozen I stand,
My heart racing in my chest,
The silence like a thick blanket,
There is a tap on my shoulder.
I force myself to move,
Gallery folder submissions are as follows:
Featured: ONE (1) submission per month. Subject to THREE (3) votes.
Activities - Weekly Prompts: ONE (1) submission per week. Subject to ONE (1) vote.
Monthly Activities: ONE (1) submission per month. Subject to ONE (1) vote.
Club Contests: ONE (1) submission per week. Subject to ONE (1) vote.
Other Folders: THREE (3) submissions per day.
Favourites: TWO (2) requests per week. Subject to FOUR (4) votes.
We look forward to seeing your work!
Hope you enjoy your stay!
Our vision here at written-from-within is to bring writers of all styles and genres together to not only share their works with deviantART and the world, but to also connect with those who have something to say. written-from-within is a place for members to support one another in their writing endeavours.
We want this to be a very active club, and when we get enough members then we can start having contest's and plenty of activities started.
There are many things available here, and we also feel this is a place where someone can ask questions/get advice from fellow members.
( Avatar done by LadyLuck89 )
Please feel free to note us with any further questions or request.
Sweet dreams...???"Father?Sweet dreams...??? by DEANJENO--art
Where are you?
Lightning pierces the darkening sky
as rain continues to pour.
But above the thunderous storm could be heard
the sobs of a little girl all alone.
Drenched in her own pool of tears...
her heart torn and bruised.
Her swollen eyes lifts towards the sky...
as her minds drifts...drifts above it all...
" Wake up, my love.
Daddy is here."
Her eyes lit up
as she runs into his arm.
Unable to contain her joy
her heart burst with excitement and laughter.
"Why are you laughing? "
"Cause you're here!
I'm so happy you're here!"
"I am happy as well. "
He lifts her up.
Holds her closer than he has ever done.
"Look my dear.
the sky is all clear now..."
Now we can do all those stuff you planned.
"Now we can go to the movies together.
Now we can walk in the park, while i hold you close.
Now we could go bike riding together
we could even make something together for your mother.
On The Chair Of Guilt .....On The Chair Of Guilt ..... by GhostWriterV
On the same chair of guilt I sit
I sit to ask for forgiveness
On the same chair of guilt I sit
I sit to confess my weakness
On the same chair of guilt I sit
I sit to watch my sin with regrets
Still on the same chair
And my ashtray is filled with cigarettes
And my mind can't stop thinking
And my conscience
My conscience is neither dead nor a live
It only shows up when I sit
On the same chair of guiltiness
|More Journal Entries|