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185 deviations

Literature

How to Sleep and Never Wake Up

The year they discovered my best friend, twenty years old and silent under the heap of her wrecked car, I learned one can sleep forever and never wake up. That year, her sister, only seventeen, ate magic mushrooms and lost her mind and her brother, fourteen, started running and stopped eating and I didn't eat magic mushrooms but lost my mind anyway as everyone watched my skin, too white to be real, disintegrate before their eyes. That year I flew to Colorado to see an urn surrounded by pointe shoes. It reminded me more of a wastebasket than the last I would see of the girl who shared my soul. Her sister ran naked through the street a few da

Literature

61 deviations

Street Photography

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How to Sleep and Never Wake Up by beastbookbody, literature

Literature

How to Sleep and Never Wake Up

Remover by Clockchat, literature

Literature

Remover

She decided a young woman like her had no business being imperfect. Impurities had to be expelled from her life, no matter the cost. An universal remover promised to be her savior. It lived up to its commercials, doing away with the stains that disgraced her floor and some of the walls. Would domestic hygiene free her from being flawed? Doubtful. This product guaranteed to exterminate any kind of filth. Could it go beyond the material things? She rubbed the substance on her forehead, and conjured as many negative thoughts as possible. They were recalled, only to vanish from memory a second after. Satisfied? Not quite. Even the good recollec

Helicase by VolkesWagondaOtaku, literature

Literature

Helicase

Helio and I were always sitting on the stairs, chatting about the lamina and occasionally making snide remarks about ribosomes. There wasn't much for us to do. Our job was to simply be, and let the RNA polymerase scribble down the letters on our foreheads when they came around every once in a while. Helio was a G, I was a C. It wasn't exactly fulfilling, I suppose. There wasn't much to be filled. So to pass the time, we talked. "You ever wonder?" Helio asked. "About what?" "About...well...what's out there." Helio and I were rooted to the stairs, quite happily, but it was awkward to move in. He kind of twisted in the general

Do you know the taste of the universe? by Synesthi, literature

Literature

Do you know the taste of the universe?

One day, when you’re five years old and made out of fractured sunlight and mirror shards, you sit down on the bench of the MAX train. You’re dressed in your winter coat and boots that are too big and one of your parents has pulled your hat too close over your ears. You’re sitting next to your mother, and on the other side is a man that smells like loneliness, something that you’ll later know as cigarettes and alcohol and homelessness. He’s crying quietly into the top of his jacket and you’re scared to look because you’ve never seen an adult cry. The train ride goes on for five minutes, which is a lo

Love Letters On the Train by Rosary0fSighs, literature

Literature

Love Letters On the Train

Dear Stranger, I'm leaving this post-it tucked in the side of the train-seat. If you're reading this, you've seen it. I've seen you sit here every few Monday mornings, sometimes tapping a bent, unlit cigarette against your thigh, sipping from your tea (who brings a tea cup onto a train anyway?); sometimes staring at the rain outside, or reading your well-worn, beaten copy of Jane Eyre (I hate that you fold the corners down - it's bibliophilic abuse. I wish the book would papercut you to defend itself a little, but I digress). You seemed so sad this Monday morning past. Please smile again. I love it when your eyes catch the light of something

Goodnight Enigmatic Song by 0hgravity, literature

Literature

Goodnight Enigmatic Song

She was the song you hear and, at first blush, don't like. Well, you don't know how you feel about it so you keep listening in an attempt to discover how exactly you feel and then you reach the end of the song and you realize, you don't like it; you love it. That was Grace. She was my coworker and she was my friend. We carpooled together, I drove and she slept most of the way. "Don't get much sleep at night, do you?" I asked her, catching those drooping lids mid-descent. "Insomnia, love." She looked out the window streaked with rain; it spoke in percussive touches filling the car with quiet overcast conversation. I felt the warmth of

petaled memories of a younger dreamer by enigmaticsmile, literature

Literature

petaled memories of a younger dreamer

I miss the days when I thought girls felt like roses, and the rain was my worst enemy I thought I'd never understand a soliloquy in all its purpose and adulthood still loomed a distant thundering possibility the open road was a hobby flipping cassettes in a car that's no longer made on a longer mountain road the time of life when you believe finally in what you never knew you believed and friends lived wide hung close I miss those days when getting older felt new and when I anticipated my first touch of a rose

Loss and the Five Stages of Grief by Vexten, literature

Literature

Loss and the Five Stages of Grief

The five of us bought two pipes on University of Houston dime in likely the only hookah bar in St. Louis, Missouri on a Sunday afternoon. Something we do as a team to calm our nerves after a long weekend of competition in a cold, damp city. They were real fancy pipes too – tall, glassy and gold. Two flavors for each pipe - watermelon-mint and strawberry-mint. David says mint keeps the smoke cool and flavor level. He was a red headed Syrian who had his own pipe at home and has been our debate captain for three weeks. Only a little while ago he had mustered enough courage to admit to everyone he “

The Run by Rieal-Dragonsbane, literature

Literature

The Run

There are some sounds you only hear at certain times though they are ever present. For example, a clock ticking down until the end of the work day, or the high frequency vibration inside silence. Like that, sometimes you can hear the universe cheer. The wind blew through the wild grass, and the grass clapped. She ran at full tilt. It’s do or die. Her bare feet slapped through puddles of yesterday’s rain, and each splash exclaimed what she needed to hear. Alive. Alive. Alive. Rock and grit scratched the soles of her feet. Her shoes had slipped off in the struggle between her and The Clippers. They had dragged her by the ankles to

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