August was Graphics month, a culmination of
Comics & Cartoons, Anthro, Fan Art and Anime/Manga
- thank you to our fabulous Community Volunteers for Graphics...
^KasumiCR -Fan Art
^KovoWolf - Anthro
`Miss-It-Girl - Anime & Manga
^Lyricanna - Fan Art
To see the whole collection of Graphics Articles, please check out the Gallery here.
Now over to the LITERATURE Community for September!
Introducing your Lit Community Volunteers...
You are the DrugVelvet blue eyes;
rich and eager tug me.
no patch, no therapy, no miracle cure
I am your addict.
You are the drug.
The terminal infestation of dependence;
a life support where without
my mind withdraws.
The Train GraveyardRusted wheels stand still, all in a row and all attached by an equally rusted rod. Each one forgetting what life they used to have together, forgetting they ever worked together and instead fixed in immobile states. With no oil to liquor their joints, they remain stuck inside the train graveyard.
Upon their weary retired helms, they bear the weight of shabby carriages, dried engines and quashed horns. Tattered seats lie inside each carriage, row upon row up to fifty six seats all lost in their past essences wanting for human comfort. All they knew was how to serve cosiness and no longer was that warmth of a sleeping commuter touching their sides. Only dust and dirt now settles on each seat, mustering brown and grey blankets over the once lush royal blue.
Smashed windows still let in a dull light, but sunlight only illuminates the dead leaves and rubbish that the wind has deposited. Watchful eyes would rather such a bleak place was left in the dark, so nobody could observe i
Routine 23BioCorp America
Max listened to Emma's soft voice strain after reading aloud for two hours. Settled in her bed with her feet tucked under her, Emma read to him every night. A hint of rasp scuffed the lyrical recitation and she turned the page of the printed book. The paper had cost her a week's pay, necessary because the novel was unspoken contraband, but he treasured these moments. Hearing the controversial tale in her voice settled warmth inside him and, he suspected, the emotion was contentment.
At the end of the chapter she looked up. Her mahogany colored eyes were soft and the corners of her full mouth tipped up. "Are you sleeping?"
He shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Please continue."
She fulfilled his request and tucked her flaxen hair behind her good ear. The left one, burned off in combat, she kept hidden and tilted away from his gaze. Feminine gestures of that nature had been his first indication Emma had feelings for
A Dinosaur for AprilHeart in her throat and belly in knots, April Kinsey knelt in the grass and straightened her finest dress over her knees. The surrounding group of family and strangers remained silent, watching her every breath.
Shirtless beneath his tribe's blue plaid, her future mate knelt, towering over her. He stood taller than even her grandfather, who was the largest man April had ever seen. A young man of seventy-two, his broad shoulders and thick muscles intimidated her. A large gold amulet with his family's crest hung around his neck and glinted in the moonlight.
Roy McGregor, third son of the Drago Tribe leader, intended to mate her of all people. He was a full blooded shifter. She was a foundling, whom he had never met before this moment, and yet he had chosen her. Like in her storybooks, his tribe had appeared unannounced on her grandfather's doorstep two nights prior and demanded a promise ceremony.
Her adopted parents had refused upon learning she was the female they wanted. At seven year
A History of PurgatoryFor more than a millennium purgatory's souls wallowed in despair while chaos and confusion ruled the realm. As a dark and barren pit, no sun lit the gray sky and no water gave life to the dry ground.
Souls appeared one by one as they died on Earth. They lingered in purgatory, weeping and cowering, until demon underlings dragged them to the pits of hell. The souls wasted their limited days huddled together for fear of the demons' frequent visits.
One soul broke apart. A soldier. Broad and standing tall in his gleaming armor, he held his spear at the ready and stood watch over the souls. He knew no other course of action.
As always the demon underlings returned to claim more souls. Three feet tall and hairless, the handful of gray and black imps scurried across the land and snickered to themselves.
The soldier bellowed a war cry and charged the creatures.
Startled by this first ever challenge, the underlings scattered, fleeing the enraged warrior and his spear.
Emboldened by the display,