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About Literature / Artist Premium Member LJUnited States Group :iconword-smiths: Word-Smiths
 
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Deviant for 5 Years
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Statistics 224 Deviations 35,233 Comments 50,913 Pageviews

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Critique "Like Math, but with No Numbers" You left no questions so I'll just give you my opinion about whatever strikes me. I don't think this story is too short or too long. It's just right. I like a story that presents word-pictures right away and doesn't spend a lot of time explaining everything....

Um

Critique for "Um" You didn't leave any questions, and I'm operating on opinion only, but here we go into a short critique. 1. It's short because I see the need to advertise such a Society, excellently made into a business card that can go up on the 'fridge. I like the address you left for FB, and ho...

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xlntwtch
LJ
Artist | Literature
United States
Interests
Miss Charlotte Marigold's ninth birthday was a formal occasion.

by EvilpixieA
__________
everything is alright, he thinks. this is how he always finds himself.

by savingcatsandmurder
__________
Cole is eleven. Age matters in October, when twelve is the only difference between the haunted hayride and the shelled corn box.

by freudenschade
__________
She is trying to find the words. The woman and her camera crew are asking for them.

by August-Green
__________
I've no idea what to do with the thing. Right now, it's just hovering between the dustbin, sink and shelf.

by bookloverblue
__________
I strained to listen through the static for the voice of God.

by Augmented4th
__________
Last night, a lamppost spoke to me.

by Laeneris
__________
Barry danced and twirled, the tutu floating unenthusiastically above his hairy man legs.

by DamonWakes
__________

Thanks to all visitors and watchers. You are appreciated! :heart:

There Were FourThere Were Four
    It was a slow day, and for good reason. November rain drummed down on the streets of the city, sluicing through gutters and filling the air with the gentle scent of soaked concrete. The only people out in such weather had good reasons for braving the cold; they walked with heads ducked and collars turned, single-mindedly hurrying towards their destinations. Few of them stopped to consider a scruffy beggar huddled beneath the mediocre shelter of a bus stop, even when waiting under the same alcove for transportation.
    It was hardly surprising. I was under the shelter because it kept off the worst of the rain, not because I expected coins. It had just seemed rather silly not to put down the tin, you know? Besides, there’s something to be said for taking a while to watch people go by, their stories trailing behind them like the ragged ends of an old cloak. While I might not have gotten enough
Oh, the Irony"You don't know anything!"
"I know."
Walks Into a Bar, Day 1A girl and two guys with baseball bats walk into a bar.  Now, that's either the start to a shitty joke, or the start to a shitty day.  More likely the latter, though, given that it was my bar.
She was the best dressed of the three.  Mostly because she wasn't trying to be something she wasn't.  Either she didn't get the memo, or her idea of business-slash-business-casual was a blue tank and an unzipped hoodie.  Either way, though, it worked.  The other guys, their idea of classy was a blazer that barely fit.
"Mornin', barkeep." She said.
It was two-thirty in the afternoon.
"We don't open for another six hours, guys."  I scanned the three of them.
The first guy, on the girl's right, my left, was completely jacked – the type of guy who benched Corollas for breakfast.  On the other hand, he was also like, five feet tall.  I probably should've mentioned that in the opening, but "a girl, a guy, and a midget, two of whom are carrying baseball bats, walk into a bar" doesn't make for a gre

Firebird           The radio was the last thing Gwen packed.
           It was an afterthought, an act of impulse. She’d been in the pantry, raiding every scrap of non-perishable food she could get her hands on. She shoved granola bars and bags of pretzels into the folds of the clothing that was already taking up the majority of the space in her beat-up purple backpack. She’d had the backpack since she started Kindergarten. Joel had never cared enough to buy her a new one.
           When her bag was bursting at the seams, Gwen jerked the zipper closed, using her knee and the side of the washing machine as a makeshift clamp to hold the bag shut. Just as she tugged the zipper into place, though, a blush of pink caught her eye from behind the dryer. She set the bag down quietly on the stained linoleum and tried to get a better look at the object. It was small, pink, and probably plastic, but tha
The CatThe cat turns once
makes a small warm den
in the bend of my knees,
and bathes a while
all needle teeth
and sandpaper tongue
with the grey brush of your chin
against mine
in the young part of the day
the sleepy salmon-colored dawn
when you would wake to me
in the bend of your arms
and the cat would rise
and move away
but now she stays.
Gus Number FiveGus Number Five
Jenna and Cindy filled their mouths with watermelon seeds, spitting them fast and hard until the air swarmed with seeds like shiny black dive-bombing gnats. “My seeds are winning,” twelve year old Cin yelled, her thin body tense and urgent with victory.
Jenna just kept spitting seeds. Eight years old, she already knew the seeds that flew the farthest would be Cin's no matter what.
Jenna puckered her mouth preparing for another losing bombardment. Suddenly she paused, lips plump and pouting as the mouth of a painted candy box cupid. Spitting the seeds into her palm, she stared at them for a moment, chewing the end of her pigtail. Then anxious with inspiration, she trotted into the house and minutes later reappeared hugging a fishbowl.
Carefully placing the bowl on the steps, she solemnly stared at the rattled goldfish who darted and wiggled his copper penny of a body. But when Jenna scattered her handful of watermelon seeds into the water, the goldfish paused

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:iconlancelotprice:
LancelotPrice Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2015
Thank you for the faving, LJ, glad to have you visit.
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:iconthetaoofchaos:
thetaoofchaos Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2015   Writer
Thanks for coming by, LJ. :heart:
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:iconjimfleming:
jimfleming Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2015
gracias :)
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:iconbark:
Bark Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you!
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:iconjade-pandora:
jade-pandora Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2015
Thank You by KmyGraphic
dear friend, for your always amazing support, and fav'ing my work, you really do honor me!

"Late departure, going south"
"Will I also return"
"Children at the Gate"

:heart:
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:iconblackbowfin:
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hello there, LJ.  Thanks so much for the fave.  Have a great weekend.  :)
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:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015   General Artist
Tag a quality deviant: You’re it! Quality doesn’t mean that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how much followers you have. Send this to 10 deviants who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them! Heart
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:icong-r-fracassa:
G-R-Fracassa Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2015  Student Writer
Thank you for the +fav
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:iconlancelotprice:
LancelotPrice Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2014
Thank you kindly for the new fave, LJ. :)
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