Trunk LineI watched the secondary pressure dial climb, ever closer to the primary. I kicked the lock away from the lever in the floor, the only one in the cabin unmarred from constant use.Trunk Line by Memnalar
"You sure about this?" I asked her. Hundredth time, easy. "You damned sure?"
She rumbled under me. Four blasts on the whistle, her assent. Firebox glowed as she primed her flames.
Didn't need me anymore.
Cabin door clanged open. Frost blew in like his namesake, slammed the door behind him, wheeled the seals closed. I glanced back at him.
"Took one in the shoulder. Drones can't aim for shit. We're holding them two cars down from the coal, don't know how long we can keep them..."
"Don't need to now."
He looked at me. I looked at the firebox. She was beyond the need for coal. Beyond the need for greasy hands in black gloves on levers, squinted eyes poring over dials.
Primary and secondary matched. It was time.
I reached for the gleaming lever.
Frost yelled something, slammed into me as t
Prima NoctaIt doesn't happen how you think it does.Prima Nocta by Memnalar
You're probably strung out, ducked into the wrong alley to hit the pipe. It waited there, watching you, biding time until you were good and fucked before ripping a new hole in your throat. Maybe your thigh if it's in a rush. You spray out all over the wall, all over yourself, all over it. You just see yellow eyes, fucking foot-long tongue lapping you up, and then nothing.
But then, something. Maybe you smell dogshit, old take-out containers, dried-out tampons and whatever else people threw away along with you. You reach up and around, wipe the maggots off your face. You find a door up there, push it open. Daylight. It feels like a blowtorch on your hand, and you smell your skin bubbling away as the lid falls closed.
No, you didn't smell it. You tasted it. Tasted your skin burning, just like you're tasting this dumpster and the filth you're swimming in.
Maybe you sleep.
Maybe you wake up just in time to hear the truck grab hold of your roac
Air-FueledWinter tore hell through the camp, and Serpentine blew into her palms so she could feel the dice in them. Old Taggert gestured at her with a bottle. She nodded at him as she blew. He poured, held up the glass. A half-rusted drone snatched it, buzzed its way to Serp, and sloshed half the drink on the floor before dropping it in front of her. She grabbed it, made a show of downing it, and kept blowing.Air-Fueled by Memnalar
Across the floor, Paydirt sat puffing away on a three-tined pipe that smelled like creosote and dry moss. Around Paydirt sat the Payday Gang, sharpening knives, polishing pistols and looking tougher than Serp knew they were.
"You gonna throw those, doll," Paydirt said around his pipe, "Or you want I should give you something else to blow on?"
She smiled at him. There were a hundred thousand League notes on the table. About a week's haul for Paydirt, but a whole season's runs for Serp. She was good for it, if you counted the Aphrodite.
Her dad's ship before her. Hers now. Aphrodit
Mechanic's BluesI'm getting grease on my sandwich when she walks in. The whole hangar pretends to be busy while throwing glances at her.Mechanic's Blues by Memnalar
She looks around, finds me, smiles. She's walking my way, but her eyes are all for her baby. I've been pulling extra shifts getting her baby ready to fly.
There's a monkey on her shoulder. It leaps off, and scrambles into the cockpit.
She tosses her goggles on top of my workbench, brushes a braid away from her shoulder. "How's she look?"
Perfect, I want to say, but that wasn't the question. "I patched your oil leak, unstuck your throttle problem. Had to replace your altimeter, but I told you that."
"Yeah, you told me that." Her eyes are brown. Could've sworn they were blue. They're blue in my dreams.
Those brown eyes are turning the ship over and over. My eyes? Well, I guess they're doing ungentlemanly things, but they snap back to attention when she speaks.
"Am I loaded?" she says.
I shake my head, grinning. "Yeah. The clockguns are all bolted in and to
crystallineCounting dayscrystalline by Memnalar
but not the other guy
ark nemesisCame out of the sand,ark nemesis by Memnalar
wind blowing hot
ruffling his hat brim
They had wings, we thought,
but the Good Book
never said anything about that.
Just a long chain
A long chain,
A chain as long as we've been here
crawling across His skin
A long chain,
holding a big box
on his back,
if you've a mind
Along his chest,
He pulled it,
in each claw,
and he dared the horizon
you Sons of
And as we started,
rats, crawling over the dirt
for a dark hole away from
by one he raised his hands
and turned that wheel
amidst the gun
never running dry
and the box on his back
held there by the chain,
every link our lives,
put there since the start,
every link we died
until the box was full.
And then one day,
one drunk in a dark room
encased by clay
wrote it down as a flood
when two by two every beast of the
Zero OneWe're a binary system.Zero One by Memnalar
We're all free,
all of us free,
to take what we will.
and that means
we will drive
a knife into your child's throat
so we can eat
so we can drink
so we can keep warm in that child's blood.
we're all slaves,
all of us slaves,
to serve the ones who direct us
and that means,
we are safe
from all enemies Foreign and Domestic
so we can eat
so we can drink
as long as They tell us to.
It cannot be both.
Take your guns, or
take your indenture,
Now or Later.
Watered downI asked the old sailorWatered down by Memnalar
as he sucked on suds
my coin had brought him,
I asked again
the question that had brought me.
Yea, he spat.
He didn't say Aye,
Yea, you whelp, I saw one once.
Hair like the sun topping the waves
Scales like the calmest blue
around the islands where coconuts grow,
and speaking of coconuts, she had...
But what happened, I pressed him,
another coin down, another glass down,
'We'd gone down,' he said, a Spring gale
ripped our sails, and sent us breaking
over the breakers on the Eastern coast,
rocks like teeth, the Devil's tits.
I coughed at the color.
Another coin down.
And the man went on.
Water was black, he said, wiping
beer from stubble
"I followed the bubbles up," but something grabbed
What, I leaned forward, was it, man?
It was black as night, I told you whelp
it grabbed my foot, I gulped a mouth of
sea and yanked my knife from my sheath
And hit nothing,
and then I saw her.
Her? I half stood, and he smiled, and tapped his glass
Prompt 1: KISSKISS - Keep It Simple, Stupid
I've always heard this in relation to design. Good design centers around creating an easily navigable interface. One way to accomplish this is simplicity: you don't create a million submenus because people will get lost. Likewise for writing—when your space is limited—subplots, characters, etc.
What does this mean for our very first SadPrompt?
Your story cannot be more than 500 words long. Include word count in your description.
See that thing about story? That's what this needs to be. KISS. Don't waste words.
It must begin with a birth and end with a death. How you interpret those terms is up to you.
Link your piece on this journal.
If you are given feedback, you are responsible for paying it forward. Critique doesn't grow on trees.
Site Update: DeviantArt Mobilewreckling
In our continuous effort to improve the DeviantArt experience, we're publishing weekly Site Updates to keep members informed and to gather feedback. Below is a list of recent changes to the site, bug fixes, and feedback that was brought up by members in the last Site Update.
The DeviantArt Mobile App Is Now Available
The world's largest art gallery in your hand is now available on Android and iOS 8 for free. Get it now!
The DeviantArt Mobile App moves the experience to hand-h
A Senior's RantRanttiganusi
projecteducate is making an honest attempt this week at dispelling some myths about senior members of deviantART. However, I want to weigh in - as someone unaffiliated with the project - about some things. I'm not purporting here to be the word of God or anything, these are just my personal views, and my personal effort to dispel some of the misconceptions that senior members have about the misconceptions the community has. And foremost is the misconception that we are somehow obligated to be your hugboxes.
I hate to be the voice of dissent for the senior community, but I kind of get tired - very tired - of these generalization-type articles about the senior membership base here on deviantART. I've been seeing these types of articles for a decade now. There were, at my last count about a year ago, twelve hundred or so senior members on this site. Only a fraction of that number are people who give back to the community, or give any sort of a damn about the community; it states
A Smattering of Lit NewsFeaturedneurotype
2014 Hearth and Home Contest Jan 1
Once Upon A Time in a Town Called Apocalypse Dec 8 - Feb 28 - Seeking Prize Donations
pyrohmstr is currently offering histograms of letter use (and color, for you visual artists) as commissions. Data data data!
Book Club at CRLiterature
WordWars' Upcoming Events
Weekly prompts: Apocalypse-writing House-of-Playwrights TheWritersMeow
theWrittenRevolution posts monthly prompts.
Eastern Poetry Forms at the-haiku-club so ffs you no longer have an excuse to call a senryu a haiku.
Need to ask an expert questions for your project, or have a skillset to offer? TheKnow!
Ghost Stories Lit. Contest UPDATE: CONTEST CLOSED. Total number of entries: 28! Thank you everyone that entered! Please allow the judges until Friday, November 7th, 2014 to read all the entries and choose the winners!OfOneSoul
It's October 1st.
And OfOneSoul, IrrevocableFate, DreamingAutumn, & DrippingWords
are proud to announce their next Lit. Contest...
:iconscaredplz: <--------- THIS is you.
:iconpetpetplz: <--------- THIS is us.
No time to be scared, lovelies! It's time to write.
Although the "Bestest Friend Contest" that IrrevocableFate & DreamingAutumn headed up together has yet to end, we're just TOO<
October Book Club: Selections from Lovecraft Note that the first of two discussion journals is now up!ShadowedAcolyte
To help get you in the mood (hint: the mood is "insane") for Halloween at month's end, this month CRLiterature's Book Club will be reading a deranged selection of short stories and a novella by Western horror's creepy grandfather, H.P. Lovecraft.
excellentabominable anthology contains all the pieces we're going to use, as well as many other enjoyabledisturbing tales.
The Antediluvian Details
The atrocious works we'll be reading are: "Pickman's Model", "The Music of Eric Zann", "The Thing on the Doorstep", and "At the Mountains of Madness".
The mid-month dis