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First and foremost, I like that you start right in with the action. I think a lot of writers get a little description heavy in their pr...

by Anzelya

First and foremost, I like that you begin with a quote. “If you spent half the time you spend on pondering over right and wrong on elim...

On Behalf of :icongrammarnazicritiques: First Impressions You do a really nice job of grasping the readers attention. This is one of the few stories i've read o...

This was a very cute story. To start off, In the first paragraph you say, "Unfortunately for me, my..." I think it would flow better if...

This piece has a very nice flow to it; I quite enjoyed the fact that you were able to say a lot with your poem without having to make i...

The first thing that came to mind after reading this was how it was it was like two poems in one. I felt like I could take out the seco...

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Appreciate all art no matter what form it comes in......


Featured DD's Ive Suggested

Counting the Ringsi
near my sick bed
he murmurs of how he's crumbling
but I'm still here
I've fought so long, I'm here
for a while I trust
I believe this, I must
even when it's bad, because
his faith alone is not enough
my random thoughts of how long
I have, and his thoughts of
"will she be able to outlive me" -
even at moments like this
it happens that
we hold on and speak of a future
rolling restless this early morn'
you exhausted and I
drying up from a virus
spying through the shredding
of 250-thread count bedding,
between the hillocks of your shoulders
we never can sleep
in anticipation for what's to come
to plant the seed and watch it grow
though we will never see it bloom
for all the other things we know
and live beyond that fertile past
of what we did and what we'll do
as sleep will still not come to us
close apart, we dare not fall
from the tree that burns in season
counting the rings of our poetry
the moon has set,
I wake in the dark
to the rush of wind
I hear him rinsing off
in the basi
ControlThe feeling came over Bill when he was out checking his trap line in the dying light of a winter evening. Eyes on the back of his head. He knew the wary scrutiny of the deer and the hungry yet restrained gaze of the wolf. This didn't feel like either. It didn't belong to this place any more than he did. He would have preferred the wolf.
He turned around, shook his gun at the reddening sky, and cupped his other hand to his mouth. "I know you're out there! This is private property! I don't wanna use this, but you'll leave me no choice if I catch you hanging around here!"
A soft rustle from somewhere deep enough that the trees obscured his vision. He waited until he felt he was alone again, then trudged through the snow to see what he could learn about the intruder. There were prints made by boots similar to his, though smaller. The thought that he outweighed whoever it was offered little comfort.
He cast one last disgusted look in the direction the tracks took as they moved away, then re
Mollie's Ribbons     I grew up in a small town just a few dozen miles from the closest water source—a slowly shrinking aquifer that squatted underneath the seat of Thompson County, our neighborly border. Fortunately, we hadn't yet been quite as devastated by our annual droughts as those in Oklahoma and Texas. Rumors would occasionally drift in with a tumbleweed traveler about how bad the deep South had dried up into nothing but an old dusty lake bed, but these flashes of news were too few and too far between to be counted on as up to date or even true.
     Once, I heard one of my distant cousins, a boy by the name of Harold, was said to have been caught up in a barn somewhere in Oklahoma during a storm where only the dirt blows—the dust and dirt block out the sun and the air until you get blown away with it. Apparently, poor old Harold had been caught up in that barn for so long (five days according to old Miss Harris) he eventually just smo
Long Time ComingMonday morning. Early, so early he can see his breath, has to wipe the liquid haze from the prefab's kitchenette window in order to even see out in to the carpark. But then this was how to get ahead, wasn't it. How to impress the boss, make your mark, all this working extra, working around the clock. So reliable and loyal and dutiful.
He glances up, peers at the white plastic dial ticking away above the doorjamb. Quarter to: Frank's due in by seven. In theory anyway. He flicks off the warmly ticking coffee machine, takes the steamed milk and teaspoons it out carefully across the caramel-hued crema, makes a fern shape on Frank's. A nice little personal touch. A sign hopefully of an employee doing more than the strictly necessary, a sign of an employee willing to go the extra mile.
At least this way, maybe he'd get one up on Michael, for once. Now wouldn't that be something. He can picture Michael's face now, the ugly fusion of fury and fear, deposed at last from his slimy throne, c
Empty GardensIt was a wine-petaled pansy
that my mother pruned from the garden box;
it reminded me
that I had blossomed late and wilted.
At fourteen I created pansy petals of my own,
waking up with hot-fisted cramps
and the proof I was a woman.
I was not a rose, perennial,
as I went from blooming monthly
to not at all.
I would rather spend a day
curled up like the fetus I may never carry
than flat on my back wondering
why God allowed worse women than me
to bear children.
Wanderer I by MarkusOskarsson MotherhoodI am a shrill mother, sometimes cruel mother
Thumping the bible of maternal knowledge;
If a mother were ever to eat her young
I can assure you it would be out of love
Digesting sorrow with the bone and sinew.
Communications 101Manning the phones at a crisis hotline was the only job I could get with my degree in communications.  I hadn’t worked since graduation.  Whenever I got a call from someone lamenting a decision they’d made, it was all I could do to keep from telling them they didn’t know what regret was.  
However, from midnight to eight in the morning three days a week, it wasn’t about me.  I had to keep people alive with my words.  No pressure.  
My line blinked.  I picked up.
“Hello, this is Brian.”
Silence at first.  Fairly typical.
Muffled giggles and a click.  Also fairly typical.
I felt like I’d been punked by my high school guidance counselor.
“Hello, this is Brian.”
“Yes, I’m here.  Is there something on your mind tonight?” I asked.  
“Something on my mind and your name spelled backwards is ‘brain’.”  They hung up.
I had forty grand in student loans.

Horror Films I Like

I'm A Ringer by PsychoSlaughterman I'm A Grudge Holder by PsychoSlaughterman I'm In Love With It by PsychoSlaughterman I'm A JigSaw Apprentice by PsychoSlaughterman I'm A Hannibal Aficionado by PsychoSlaughterman I'm A Jason Junkie by PsychoSlaughterman I'm Psycho For Norman by PsychoSlaughterman I'm A LeatherFace Lover by PsychoSlaughterman



I got home yesterday at 2:30am (my flight was hella delayed) In the next few days I'll write up a journal with all the things I did and such. 
I am leaving tomorrow morning around 4am to go to an Officer's Training session for a month. During this month I will have no internet access or phone access. I will return on July 25th and respond to all of your hate mail then. 


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
My Favorite Series
Black Dagger Brotherhood by J.R. Ward
Dark-Hunter by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Immortals After Dark by Kresley Cole
Demonica by Larissa Ione
The Hollows by Kim Harrison
Fever by Karen Marie Moning
Lords of Deliverance by Larissa Ione
Lords of the Underworld by Gena Showalter
If you have any questions regarding writing, send me a note. If you need critiques, I would suggest submitting to the GrammarNaziCritiques group, we are very nice there, I promise!

Join my movement to prove Nicolas Cage Is Not A Real Person…
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Books You Should Read
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
Heartsick by Chelsea Cain
Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison


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Ye Old Annual Coffee Vs. Tea Poll 

9 deviants said Tea
6 deviants said Coffee
4 deviants said Cats
3 deviants said Both
2 deviants said Neither
1 deviant said Other things
No deviants said I only drink water because I am a boring and useless member of society


Add a Comment:
raspil Featured By Owner 1 day ago   Writer
welcome back, assbutt
Dr-Vergissmeinnicht Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks, asswipe <3
neurotype Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
raspil Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014   Writer
holy dogshit
neurotype Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
love you
raspil Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014   Writer
you're not my real mom
(1 Reply)
raspil Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2014   Writer
Dr-Vergissmeinnicht Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I force my cats to do that all the time. 
raspil Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2014   Writer
my cat used to poop on my pillow
Dr-Vergissmeinnicht Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I took my cats to the bet the other day and one of them peed inside of the cat carrier and then my mom accidentally poured it out on her pant leg. 
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: