|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Minor occurrences so ignored.I watched an ant crawl across the surface of a car today.
Tiny legs trailing across the dull metallic shell, moving slowly on the skin of the machine as it sped down a dusty highway. The creature took pauses between every few steps, as it made its way from the front of the car, passively searching for a path to the underearth haven.
I observed in curious silence as it took its first exploratory step on the windshield.
The man in the car seemed oblivious to this tiny creature crawling across the vast field of neoplastic-glass.Just as ignorant, the ant continued to venture onwards. Towards the center. And then, the man noticed.
A faint shadow of annoyance. As swiftly as that expression came, it was replaced by a browed look of apathy.
Stubby fingers reach for one of the numerous levers on the wheel, digits sprawling outwards in a searching manner, similar to the antennae of the offending creature. Fingers curl around a certain lever; the one marked with a white-traced droplet. As if it k
The Forgotten.As Evening pulls the obsidian cloth from the land;
foolishly. A thousand lanterns extinguished; fades into
A seething ball creeps ever so slowly on the horizon. With Hate; with Love.
And I stood there. In the midst of Dread.
Arms bound by Guilt.
Hands held by Sorrow.
Brought here by Pride.
Trialed by Justice.
And so He appears.
Message and Messenger caressed in his hand.
And he points it towards a
And in a
And I see it.
Death cutting through the air
It whistles a melody in the w i n d
and it dances inside me.
A quiet blossom, crimson crawling across
Charon's envoy lodged tightly between my heart.
The Man gives a gesture. Taunting, laughing.
Unblinking eyes no longer see.
The darkness whispers a chorus,
breathing someone else's breath.
And I lay there. In the midst of dream.
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
Keep in Touch!
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