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Charlie Vole Chapter 1-7ishAn old wooden cart with drinks on them. The clatter of the cups crashing each other is the most homely sound I hear, the drops of the tea and coffee spraying on me is so routine that it becomes comfortable. The routine of everyday is the only thing that is part of my life. I use a computer, but it's the state's computer that I'm borrowing. I sleep on a bed made of cloth, but I don't own it. The cart I push is not mine. Nothing is mine except waking up and pushing the cart around. I would like to say that they can't take that away from me, but the truth is that they can.
I am at one of the lowest jobs they can give me here. My father was a great mouse, he one of the ones that organized the building, getting it out of the rut it was in and into the place it is. He was praised as a demi-god, and his death caused a wave of grief through the community, and his funeral was attended by all. He was remembered, but his family was forgotten. His wife, my mother, mentioned only twice. All eleven
Charlie Vole Chapter -1Charlie Vole
by Konrado Cirilo
I would like to start off by saying that I am not a cat for consumption, and I will never be one. One side of my family was bred for hunting, and not mice and rodents. They were bred and raised to kill animal at least two times larger than me. I can make a kill alone, or take down a beast in a pack. We are able to do it fast, bloodless, and with the least pain possible; if I choose to show mercy. My other side of the family is completely feral. They are cats who are to surviving the harshest of weather that this desert can send.
I live, if one can say so, with cats that are only meant to be eaten. They are born in a breed that are naturally fatter, and meant to be eaten, they are fattened from kitten, then they are killed, cooked, and fed to hungry humans. I see dozens of them die every week. I am not saddened by their deaths; they are dumb and and only care for food and sleep.
The reason I am here is because my previous owner was desperate for money, and
The Noise of Shovels Chapter 1I'm in a room. There are cages on the ground. There's a man. He's a bleeding. He's dead. I'm looking from the man's view. I'm scared. The room is a mess. I see blood everywhere.
I wake up. Everything is wet. There is grass, and there are apples. I get up. I eat an apple. I like the taste of the apple. My fur is sticky. I walk around the tree. I like my fur to get rid of the stickiness. I notice that the tree I'm next to is different from the other tree.
I hear something above me. I look up. There is something in the tree. It is blue. I get scared. I run away from the blue thing. I run until I run out of breath. I stop. I look back. Nothing is there. I turn my head forward. There are more trees. I start to climb on of them. I go on the branch, and I sit on the branch. I notice the bark, and I start to eat it it. It tastes weird. I see something mobbing in another branch that is next to mine. It looks at me. It is an animal.
I get scared of the animal, and I jump my branch,
The Sound of Shovels Part 1Call me up
And I'm on the ground
Can see the tree top
Apples all around
The grass is wet
So is my fur
Animals stir and I take the hint
As I take a sprint
This is where my story begins
From branch to branch
Then to the river
I meet a bird
And I begin to quiver
A Writer's AngstEveryone's writing poems
But they aren't saying a word
Everyone was fighting honorwars
But now they're shooting the bird
So I come here
I come here wishing to win
But the world keeps closing
Their minds keep closing
But it's they same old poem
The same old lyrics
The same old words
But the meaning's changed
That Time Again
Is it that time again?
I guess it's that time again
We're both writers
We both know that
But I never really knew anyone
So I'm not very good at making friends
Every little mishap
Can bring this relationship down
The incorrect groove
It's suddenly over
We both live in Virginia
You live in the UK
But that's okay
I didn't want it to end
But that depression was the jealous type
Never answered any of your calls
With zir around
It was always bound to fall
But I'm not saying it's over
You only live a few streets down
We can have some pizza
And we can tell each other what's been going down
We did such great things
In the time that we were friends
But I guess it's that time again
There's no point in clinging
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More