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The RoomRichard sat still as his eyes adjusted to the darkness shrouding his surroundings. A weak light bulb flicked on above him, suspended on a shadowy wire. He could faintly make out that he was inside a small room with colorless, stone walls. The floor was cold and dry to the touch, yet the air smelled of a stale water. Richard eased himself up and leaned against the dead walls, still dazed from what he knows not. He felt the walls, his vision still clouded, and found nothing. No windows. No doors. How he came to be in this crude prison he knew not, but he was certain he would not leave. The still air had become frigid.
A dark iciness shot through his core. A force pressed down upon his shoulder, a vice-like grip from behind. Richard spun back and struck the oppressive force. A hot, numbing pain shot through his crushed fist. Nobody. Nobody there. He was an inch from the wall. He felt fresh blood splattered across the stone where he had attacked the wall. He gave up. Shuddered
On A Limb"Good morning, Mr. Johnson. The procedure is complete."
I opened my eyes. A bright light shone in from the ward window. I slipped my glasses on with my left hand. I pulled the covers off of my right arm. Though I expected it, I went lightheaded at the sight of it. Sleek and white, my new metallic arm was flawlessly fused to what used to be a fleshy stump. I instinctively tried to hold it up, yet it lay heavy on the bed.
"Doctor!" I called.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I forgot to leave it on for you," spoke Dr. Anderson, "here, let me activate it."
The doctor turned a knob in my new wrist. The dark stripes across the arm's length lit up, glowing a soft blue. Just like in the catalogue. It became light, like a feather almost. I raised it to my chest, listening to the gentle whirring of the servos. My new skin was a shining white alloy adorned with silver
Is AboutCarlin is about laughter in the tragedy of Man
Voltaire is about freedom, and knowledge with a wit
Da Vinci is about the Renaissance of the Mind
The Internet is about connection, immersion, submersion, and diversion
Anonymous is about truth in shadows and painful honesty in a smiling mask
Europe is about a far off land, many small nations, ancient history of modern times, obscurity, Socialism, strange accents, next door from Britain
Britain is about world conquest, imperialism, Kings Henry and George, Her Majesty, Keep Calm and Carry On, Beatles, Monty Python, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, fish and chips, and funny accents
America is about towers, trailers, mansions, gutters, promises, illusions, Capitalism, superiority, mediocrity, invisible money, power, fame, war and pride
Only a concept, but a concept is all you know
A concept is about what you see with your mind when you paint what you read in a book which you wrote about concepts
Genius is about juggling concepts, discovery, vision,
The MachineThey smash us into the ground
Crushed to bits, we march on
Rolling cogs, the pistons slide on
Black and rusted, the machine is death alive
No escape, escape means waste
All waste is cast aside, burnt for fuel
Incinerate the bold, enslave the meek
Faster, faster our gears are turning
Your choice to live or die
The dead are silent, the living are dead
Cull the dreamers, outliers are errors
Efficiency before all, iron fist is your fall
Our Ford's great foreman
Whip in hand, gun in the other
Fear us, fear them, fear all
Screaming silence, the sheep are sheered
Blood stains don't matter
Serpentine tendrils feed off the sheep of the Iron Lamb
Steel syringes siphon off time
Time is money, money is power
Power is bait, power is poison, power is Death
Throw a wrench in the machine
Smash the system
Tumbling, thunderous, the hydra collapses
Towering columns shatter the Earth, fire rents the sky
Life begins anew
The LibraryThe marbled halls extended endlessly. Adam Wright stood in the chamber as a lone willow, spared in the ashes of a burnt clearing. He wished for knowledge and now he could have all of it. The Library called out to him in silence. Entranced, Mr. Wright ambled into the ancient hall. Completely devoid of life. Sterile. Perfect. Each of Adam's dull footsteps came with a sharp echo. The only life in the halls were the shadows of his every move. The domed ceiling, the gleaming tile floors, the mighty columns, all sublime, white as ivory. A golden-white light shone in from above, illuminating that which nobody has obtained, nor will ever obtain.
Adam slid a book off a shelf. Leather-bound and silky smooth. He slid his palm over the blank cover. Not a speck of dust. Not a speck of dust had ever chanced to land upon it, and never would. He opened the book to a random page. He could feel the yellowed pages creak open like an old door in a long-forgotten house. The text was in some foreign or anci
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More