Lem and the ReelsIt must have been daytime outside, because Melody slept. When she opened her eyes again, Lem had transformed the chaotic stack of boxes and bags and crates into a chaotic stack of whatever had been inside the boxes, bags and crates. In the light of his little Coleman lantern, Lem had assembled a collection of, well, everything. Comic books. Gas masks. Car parts. Cans of spray paint. Batteries. Clothes, men's and women's. There was a stuffed barn owl staring at Melody from atop a basket of cheap wristwatches. And that was just what Melody could see. It was a big room, and most was in darkness.Lem and the Reels by `Memnalar
Lem huddled in front of a metal box, fixing what looked like plates to the front of it, threading thin strips of something through little wheels in the front. One wire trailed from the box to immense headphones around Lem's head. Another wire led to a car battery on the floor. Lem clicked a button on the box. The plates spun. He shook his head, then clicked another button. The plates stopped. He u
Lem and House KeepingThe ivy on the walls surrounding Memorial Park was so thick that Lem could climb it. On the top of the wall, he reached down, helped Melody up, and they both jumped to the ground on the other side.Lem and House Keeping by `Memnalar
They had been here before, not long after Melody had been turned. On that night, they encountered things in this park that had kept Lem away every night since. But things were different now, and both Lem and Melody were out of options.
Stick close, Lem signed. Melody didn't respond. They picked their way through the thick brambles and overgrowth, until they found one of the paths that crisscrossed the old park. A decade ago, people walked their dogs along these paths, or jogged, or held hands under the moonlight. Now, it was an unkempt shambles, home only to things like Lem, and things worse.
Lem paused next to a huge, gnarled oak tree. He shoved aside a boulder next to the base of the tree, revealing a hole in the ground among the roots. He reached in, pulled out a waterproof duffel.
Grass is Really GreenerYou're looking for what? Sorry, chief. Don't have it any more.Grass is Really Greener by `Memnalar
Take that gun out of my nostril, we can talk about it. Good, that's better. You got any water? Damn thirsty. Long road behind me, you know?
Much obliged. Yeah. That's good. That's good. Much obliged. Don't suppose you got any bottles or canteens you'd like to part with? No? Okay, no, I get it, put the gun down. Shit, man. Can't blame me for asking, right? Look, I ain't here to take anything from you, I just want to trade. I don't have what you're after, I'm sorry about that. She's a big deal around these parts. I traded that copy for a pair of boots and this six-string.
Fuck yeah, I can play it. Keep being nice, maybe I'll pluck out a few tunes for you before I move on. That cool? Cool. Thank you. I feel better when there's not a bunch of guns and machetes and shit pointed at me.
Oh, thanks. Again, much obliged. That's good water. You guys got a well around here or something? That right? Wow, no fallout? 'Cause I got
Sixteen TonsAt oh-four-hundred, the intravenous tubes uncorked themselves. I squeezed a dose of Get-Up into my wrist. My eyes opened to the printouts of Camille that I'd fixed to the plastic ceiling. Top bunk had its perks.Sixteen Tons by `Memnalar
Gorzy was a tenement platform in orbit alongside the Rosebud cooperative mine. Sixteen tenements flanked Rosebud, a helium harvesting operation hugging Jupiter. Gorzy was Russian, but Rosebud was a United Maritime outfit. Most platforms were open stakes; the crews in the scrubber blimps sent home a share of the profits after UM took their cut. Gorzy was indentured, meaning that you never knew who the trudge in the bunk underneath you was, what he'd done before, or whether or not his emancipation date was worth more than a knife in your ribs.
Wrist implants told me it was 6DT-Ep; six Earth days until they pushed my emancipation papers toward me. If I signed them, I'd get the privilege of quarantine until the next carrier back to Earth, where I’d fend for myself. Or, if I s
ApertureIt's between the framesAperture by `Memnalar
where life happens,
where the Camera Men can't see,
because it's too dark, you see.
Play your part, like the rest of us,
Keep the camera pointed
At what you need it to see,
And we'll hear it rattling away,
Recording our play,
Our theatrical non-sense
And what goes behind the Camera Men
In shadow, is Real.
So I've heard, but
What I've seen is only grey.
I was Born on Camera, crying my tears
As the nurse wiped them away
In a white room, while bright doctors
Pronounced me Healthy,
Into their Handsets
For the Telephone Company
To Relay across the switchboards that
Another Has Arrived.
(S)He will consume.
(S)He is good.
Don't think on Camera.
I learned it when Momma died,
When the Camera Men panned over to me
And I shed my Tear
(Tear is the Property of the Network)
And I was ushered away into the black car,
But they didn't lock my door, and I
Still have the scars from the asphalt on my
Thighs and Cheek and Hip.
I was always a little precocious.
There was an Alley
(In
Mind the GapThat's me on the platformMind the Gap by `Memnalar
In my coat, with my bag
In my hand with my laptop inside.
Biding my time, tick tick tick
Until the train comes, just the same as
Every other day,
On my way to work then home then
Work then home again
And then
It's here, the conductor points at the sign
The wheels scream, doors slide away,
The cars are now rooms, little universes,
Purses stuffed with Still Life as we
Stare at our phones,
At the floor,
At the pages we've brought along to
Ward away the rest of us.
It's my turn, now.
My train hisses in,
It's here, the conductor points at the sign,
The wheels scream, doors slide away,
I stop short, mouth open
As the doors open to
Music.
Color, and smiles and singing and
swaying to Music, and are those
Balloons? Is that
Paint on their arms and are they really
Laughing like crazy, and not a single
Laptop Bag
Under day-glow glory,
A whole new story told
Under lantern light, and such a sight
So taken was I that I stood rooted
To the platform, mouth open, but the doors
Pimps & Whoas - September 27, 2010PimpsPimps & Whoas - September 27, 2010 by $Moonbeam13
Official dA NewsdeviantART muro: Save and Load, and Custom Sizing
Informative News & EventsThe Horror Scope: Issue Four
First Week in Lincoln Park In the city of Chicago, it is extremely difficult to tell the difference between an insane homeless man, limping to a subway station in order to get his 8 hours, (with hourly interruptions to switch trains, and avoid being noticed at the end of the line) and a man, with a liberal concept of personal grooming, who sprained his ankle during his morning jog. They both have generally the same attire, mannerisms, and smell. They also have the same look in their eyes. They both look desperate, and exhausted. They both have a goal to achieve, but something insurmountable is standing in their way.First Week in Lincoln Park by ~Nefarious-Fox
The look on both of their fa
Sta.sh
, I really apreciate it 
. Have a wonderful week 
and 
!!
Probably. But we all know he had a weakness for Selena. 
