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EvelynTaliette

Embodied insecurity
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Literature

Our Ritual Dismemberments

...And when she spoke the world shrunk down and became simpler, softer, a better imitation of itself that held no possible pain. Like a dollhouse with its utopian storyline that was, by nature, created by those with young and innocent lives. Somehow she touched that world with her voice, despite how often it fled her grasp. "I ignored it for years, which is a good thing I suppose. But now I'm unsure where it started, where it truly began, because I spent so long pretending that it wasn't there. That I was normal, like the others. Not normal, but...equal to them? Not broken in any way." She paused as her words caught in her throat, some sque

All

75 deviations
Literature

The Truth

We lie in wait and I say, "He's as determined as a child being eaten away by cancer, Swearing that she'll cure herself one Blackened cell at a time." Though as we spoke his frailty was being swallowed whole by a bed of wrongs, made servant to the things he wished to Change, Transform, into both the common and the beautiful as one strong of heart does, but with all the anger and resolution of one helpless to do so-- "But when the enemy is already inside, throwing fits of Reckless destruction like a human-animal (refined/Confined by its thoughts)..." They are (and he was) Prodded into the fight, and in the face of death he bowed into a sta

Featured

64 deviations
Literature

Shattered Glass and Stepping Stones

The brilliance of the setting sun Is captured, held tight By the surface of the pond- Dark and unknown Beneath its reflection. Tranquil beneath its stuttering gait, Encompassed by thick woodlands, And guarded by strong-armed branches That wave at all passing by With their feathered, individual leaves. A ghost of a little girl- Scraped knees, bird’s nest of tangled hair. Laughing, bare feet pounding in tune Across fallen logs and exposed roots Flitting in and out of sight As she traverses Her little forest kingdom. Hidden are her special stones Plucked from the depths of the pond And piled in hidden nooks With woven grass crowns- Calm

Strange Little Girls

27 deviations
Literature

Human Dynamics

She’s never been anything other than lies. Not even good lies, any type of lie will do. (Each weapon is still a weapon, no matter how dull.) They line her skin, gliding over each and every inch like live snakes, or maybe just the silk she often wears. Her smile…one kiss (one bite) and you’re paralyzed, trying to discern the overwhelming tide of beckoning lies from the solid body of reality underneath. (Flying high over the world, the clouds obscuring any semblance of solid Earth below. It’s only a matter of time before someone goes splat.) -- He was (and still is) made of soft things. A duckling encased in a thi

Stones in the River

15 deviations
Literature

Remembering Who You Once Were

Little Eve, Life can be told through numbers- did you know that, dear child? That by saying a few simple syllables, by writing a stream of organized marks, you can communicate so much. Everyone knows you can pack a world, a story, a person into just a few words- but none consider numbers. Then again, I know you’re not one for numbers- even now (if this letter arrives on time, of course) you’re beginning to favor the weaving of words instead of the futile calculation of numbers… Enough of all that rambling, I have a feeling that you’re wondering why this is here. Well, I’m here to tell the story of us- of every

Rants

10 deviations

Pictures of Mine

11 deviations
Literature

Our Unseen Beings

The first emotion I can ever remember is confusion, and shortly after that: pain. It all began in a crumbling cabin near the outskirts of the Dread forest, a single glaring lightbulb dangled over my head as I was born. It burned my eyes, seeming to bathe the small, moldy room of my current existence with unreal light. It was a forceful kind of light, and my first thought was wanting out- needing out- all because that light seemed to be pushing me away from reality. Maybe it was a warning. I wish I could I blame all the problems that soon surface on that single bulb, but in the end, I know its only my fault. I wasn't quite sure where I was

Potential Chaptered Stories

3 deviations
Literature

Angels

  *OKAY, so. Please note that this is for an improvement contest and that I wrote this 3-4 years ago, so it's really low quality- I apologize in advance. It's completely unedited due to me wanting to show just how much I improved over time*  The stars sparkled overhead as Raven flew through the night sky. His midnight-black wings pushed up and down steadily.The wind ruffled his long, midnight colored hair in the cool night breeze as he dived towards a clearing in a forest. He tucked his wings into the curve of his back as he stepped gently onto the ground.    His child, Snow, had to be here somewhere on the Solid-ground, where humans live

Old Works

2 deviations
Literature

The Joker: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 No, no, NO! This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, everything had been going perfectly! Why did I even hesitate, why did I have to get him involved? I could have ran, I could have called the plan off, I could have done SOMETHING. Alternate ideas bashed me around as often as the dark, angry waves surrounding me. Look what you did to yourself Ariah, look what you did, but at least you survived the fall. Everything was blurry, I could hardly move in this relentless force around me- the sharp pain of the still fresh wound cut red-hot through my thoughts as a wave tumbled me around like a toy. Hopefully the Runners will bother to ca

The Joker

2 deviations
Literature

A Rose's Obituary (Reflections Prologue)

 I left my old life with only two souvenirs; my name, and my prized scarlet-rose necklace, both given as gifts from my mother. But yet, in a fleeting last-grab to leave every speck of history behind, I searched for a new name to replace my own- Alice, Alexandra, something beautiful- but my mother insisted it’s common courtesy to take your name on the way out. Alathe- the name sticks no matter how I try to scrape it off. Now that I look back on it, I can only wonder at what I was thinking at the time. Did I expect Heaven’s holy gates to rise up from the cracked concrete of the train station? For angels to sing as I furled my umbr

Reflections Novel Work

3 deviations
Literature

Tumble

Deliquescent equilibrium, Tumbling to and fro Beneath your trapping thumb- Pushing, and yet pulled to the Earth. Up and Down is lost again As well as Left or Right- The lying brothers of opposites The struggle, arms locked tight Until gravity itself Is erased.

The Occasional Poetry

6 deviations
Literature

Human Dynamics

She’s never been anything other than lies. Not even good lies, any type of lie will do. (Each weapon is still a weapon, no matter how dull.) They line her skin, gliding over each and every inch like live snakes, or maybe just the silk she often wears. Her smile…one kiss (one bite) and you’re paralyzed, trying to discern the overwhelming tide of beckoning lies from the solid body of reality underneath. (Flying high over the world, the clouds obscuring any semblance of solid Earth below. It’s only a matter of time before someone goes splat.) -- He was (and still is) made of soft things. A duckling encased in a thi

Daily Lit Deviations

3 deviations
Literature

Synergy Assignment: Short Poetry

(Not that important either, move along.) Prompt: Marcescent (flower term, withering, but not falling off) + Nimiety (excess, overabundance, superfluity) One drop tipped, glided, grappling with the hands of gravity One tiny cusp caught on edge of an aging flower's bloom. Sliding down between two smile-wrinkles And barred by the walls, floodgates Nudged with each movement of its brethren. It so plunged into the abyss below; a crack in the dam left to leak. Churning, slopping, waiting to rise; The excess of the ocean behind. The other drops form one being entitled "water", rush after the droplet and devour him, until he is forced to become one

Scraps

4 deviations