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Dog Pack Story Part 1An elderly buck wanders aimlessly through the woods in search of food. His white tail flashes as he flicks it back and forth behind him in irritation. His worn and broken teeth make it hard for him to find edible food among the trees of the winter locked forest, and the toll is evident in his clearly defined ribs. A muffled twump of falling snow makes him fling his head up and ears flip back and forth to identify the sound behind him. He stands still for a few moments before turning to bound down a well-worn trail between two large spruce trees. Just as the deer is about to pass between them a large, gray, wirehaired body launches itself from the space beneath one of the large spruces and tackles the deer, long teeth and strong jaws clamping down on the base of the old buck’s head and easily snapping its spine. The deer falls limp in the dog’s jaws as its role in the world as a living creature comes to an end.
The large dog, a young Irish
Dog Pack Story (no adequate title yet) PrologueThe bitch was breathing heavily as she struggled to run through the deep snow, a small object hanging from her clenched jaws. Her large eyes were frightened but determined as a she paused to catch her breath and adjust her grip on the pup she was carrying. The small white bundle didn’t make a single sound, even when it was set into the deep, cold snow. The bitch, a German Shepherd, sucked at the cool air gratefully before perking her ears up and turning to look behind her. In the distance she could just see the foreboding outline of an old, black city. She stood still for a few moments longer before turning and dropping her head to sniff at the pup. It was small for its age, definitely the runt of the litter, but she refused to let it die because of that fact.
She warily bent over and picked the pup up again before turning to take one last look at the place she had been raised before turning away and running for the trees in the distance.
The DreamI have never been able to dream the dream,
Nightmares are the only ones
I shall ever see as I fall asleep.
But every time I wake up,
Soaked in sweat and fear,
I dare to believe, that someone out there,
Is dreaming the dream.
The dream worth believing in.
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More