The dancer moved across the stage, graceful.
Every movement perfectly choreographed
All the dancers
In the background
Still.
She twirls and spins,
Moving carefully to the melody
Of the soft, enchanting music
Her orchestra plays.
The audience is silent.
They are not there,
she realises.
She is dancing to herself.
She is dancing in a box,
a spring fixes her to the floor
Cogs rotate slowly,
Turning her around.
All the while, the melody plays.
She woke up in a changing room. Her straightjacket was off, and a clean set of clothes hanging up in front of her.
“Get changed!” the guard outside barked in German. She scrambled up, her shaking fingers trembling with the buttons. She was shaking all over, and it took her a couple of tries to get into the trousers.
She went out of the changing room, her hands shaking by her sides. She was wobbling as she followed the guard silently through the linoleum-paved hall. The walls were an uplifting yellow, but they only scared her more.
A light on the ceiling lit up. What was that?
“Face the wall, hands covering your eyes.
This is for Edd,
who ended up dead.
He passed away,
like we all shall do someday.
But not unloved,
for every kind dove,
holds him in their hearts.
(For he wasn't just known for his art)
This is for Tom,
who is really the bomb,
who is left alone,
in his very large home.
But he is not without friends,
for we shall help him on, until the very end.
This is for everyone,
whose friend has gone,
Passed away,
Not living another day.
But they are not without hope,
as they aren't alone,
because this community,
only sees this as an opportunity
to grow and mature,
and become something more.
Somehow, he had gotten mixed up in somewhere he hadn’t wanted to be.
“Government? Comrade, that has not existed for years; it’s practically dead!” his student claimed. This was the statement that would spark a revolution—had he known, he may not have opened his mouth, or, perhaps he did know and continued anyway. Perhaps he knew all along what was to be.
“Of course government exists, it is just not necessarily good,” he answered his student, ever the conformist.
“Civilization depends on government, comrade-the Party just sends people to the forest!” His pupil was enraged, fire
The dancer moved across the stage, graceful.
Every movement perfectly choreographed
All the dancers
In the background
Still.
She twirls and spins,
Moving carefully to the melody
Of the soft, enchanting music
Her orchestra plays.
The audience is silent.
They are not there,
she realises.
She is dancing to herself.
She is dancing in a box,
a spring fixes her to the floor
Cogs rotate slowly,
Turning her around.
All the while, the melody plays.
She woke up in a changing room. Her straightjacket was off, and a clean set of clothes hanging up in front of her.
“Get changed!” the guard outside barked in German. She scrambled up, her shaking fingers trembling with the buttons. She was shaking all over, and it took her a couple of tries to get into the trousers.
She went out of the changing room, her hands shaking by her sides. She was wobbling as she followed the guard silently through the linoleum-paved hall. The walls were an uplifting yellow, but they only scared her more.
A light on the ceiling lit up. What was that?
“Face the wall, hands covering your eyes.
This is for Edd,
who ended up dead.
He passed away,
like we all shall do someday.
But not unloved,
for every kind dove,
holds him in their hearts.
(For he wasn't just known for his art)
This is for Tom,
who is really the bomb,
who is left alone,
in his very large home.
But he is not without friends,
for we shall help him on, until the very end.
This is for everyone,
whose friend has gone,
Passed away,
Not living another day.
But they are not without hope,
as they aren't alone,
because this community,
only sees this as an opportunity
to grow and mature,
and become something more.
Somehow, he had gotten mixed up in somewhere he hadn’t wanted to be.
“Government? Comrade, that has not existed for years; it’s practically dead!” his student claimed. This was the statement that would spark a revolution—had he known, he may not have opened his mouth, or, perhaps he did know and continued anyway. Perhaps he knew all along what was to be.
“Of course government exists, it is just not necessarily good,” he answered his student, ever the conformist.
“Civilization depends on government, comrade-the Party just sends people to the forest!” His pupil was enraged, fire
Friendship is magic, bitch. by tygeraddict, literature
Literature
Friendship is magic, bitch.
You suck. You have terrible moodswings, and constantly whine and whinge and sometimes I want to hit you.
"I'm leaving. Goodbye. We're over! OVER, I tell you!" D'you remember that? It was today. Oh yeah, now you remember.
I'd never do that. Leave, I mean. I'll be stalking you years after we leave to different colleges, you to NYU, and I to CSM (Central St. Martins'!)
Why? I love you. No, not in a lesbian-I-want-to-get-into-your-pants way, a you're-my-best-fucking-friend-don't-you-fucking-dare way.
"Pleeeeeaaaaseeeeee? I'll be your best friend!"
"I am your best friend,"
"Even beeeeester friend!"
"Bro, we're twins, you can't get bester t
1. You must post the rules.
2. Each person must post 5 things about themselves in their journal.
3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, and create eleven new questions for the people you tag to answer.
4. You have to choose 11 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
5. Go to their page and tell them you have tagged them.
6. No tag backs!
7. No stuff in the tagging section about "you're tagged if you're reading this". You legitimately have to tag 11 people.
No I don't, I'm too fabulous!
1. I watch 4 tv shows: ATLA: TLoK, Dr. Who, Sherlock and MLP:FiM
2. I box.
3. I hate science practicals, and love theory.
This is a little apology I whipped up in half an hour
In which two teenagers are terribly sorry
There were once two friends, named Chockie and Deagle
(Whose hearing was not nearly as good as a beagle's)
They were friendly and happy, a tralala pair,
'til they went overboard and were caught in Chaos's snare.
Both Deagle and Chockie loved a good time,
(Among those were things that did rhyme)
Their friend Luna said "Hay! I've got something for you,
It'd be a riot with you two!"
A riot it was, but not in a good sense,
As the teen's intelligence was not worth two pence.
For they mucked it up badly,
And the two teens were sent away