9 results for 'XanthusKidd'
Beautiful. Beautiful? Why beautiful? Nothing here is beautiful. Beauty was a remembrance, a sham, an illusion set to torment. I knew beauty, but she is gone. Nothing left but a failing shell.
The whisper, the cry, the anthem. The words they repeat inside their heads. Over and over, they cry for help. The torment plays its game with the hundred helpless souls. They gaze at the passersby and plead with their eyes. The doors remain locked, and the bystanders stand and try not to watch. The cries, they echo throughout the night.
The night it hung and covered and clung. It crept and... (more)
It's time to get philosophical.You know, all thoughtful and stuff.I've been wondering, am I an artist? Is art something one can express without an innate desire to call it art? I really have very little interest in conventional art. I find some paintings interesting, and I enjoy beauty in any form, but I have never appreciated any piece merely because it is art, or have I?
I immensely enjoy photography. I have since I was quite young. My dad taught me how to use film SLR systems sometime around the age of 10, maybe younger; I don't recall precisely. Since then, I have been obsessed with... (more)
Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. A nice small town of about 9,000 people. Nice people, I'm sure. Unfortunately, it seems that Mechanicsburg has a zombie problem--a holy zombie problem. Let's rewind about 4 months to October 11, 2011. Ernest Perce, a militant Atheist, decided to dress as the prophet Muhammad, zombified. Perce, a member of the “Parading Atheists of Central PA,” marched with a fellow atheist who was dressed as a zombie pope. The men were involved that night in a parade. Perce marched down the street, holding a sign that proclaimed “Muhammed [sic] of Islam.” Perce walked down the street,... (more)
"Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion. Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blindfolded fear." These are the words of Thomas Jefferson, addressed to his Nephew Peter Carr. Jefferson goes on to tell his nephew to never accept the claims of others based on the mere merits of their position or authority: "In fine, I repeat, you must lay aside all prejudice on both sides, and neither believe nor reject anything, because any other persons, or description... (more)
The house was cursed with the clamor of an unceasing silence. Dark, dreary shades hung in the windows, and the thin reflections of the leafless trees danced with the wind. The branches creaked and a light mist clung to the bleak surroundings. Soundlessly, the passersby watched the lamps slowly extinguish as the fixtures burned through their meager ration of oil.
In the house was a man. Dressed in dark garb and prepared for a sleepless night, the man watched as the flame struggled against the thick, oppressive air. The smoke from the fire draped itself over him like a misty cloak, permeating... (more)
There once was a sculptor who loved to create beautiful images. He studied all sorts of subjects, ideas, and wonderful theories. He loved sport and lived for the game. His game, however, was played with people. He poked their minds to examine the results. He prodded their emotions with verbal sticks and noted the reactions. He did not allow for personal attractions or petty feelings. He concentrated on his work and did little else. His grandest accomplishments were but experiments to him once they were finished. In his mind, he never failed or made a mistake; if there was an error, he would... (more)
The pandemonium was palatable. The whole area was a mad, buzzing mess. Wild colors and spinning vortices marred the walls. Like a ‘60s music video, the background was nothing but madness and inane sequences. There was no apparent place to stand, I couldn’t decide if it was like standing on glass or nothing at all. There was a boy in the middle of everything looking bewildered and lost.
Expressions of chaos filled the air, the humidity and fog was terribly thick. The lighting was harsh, pouring straight down from above. Its green tinge completed the surreal feeling that inundated the... (more)
The sky was a beautiful azure and the clouds were the wispy, scattered types that reminded her of paint sprayed from a brush. The hills rolled on into the horizon like ripples in a sheet, and the grass swayed in the wind as it danced to its own silent song. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t hot – the breeze provided more than sufficient cooling in the crisp country air. The flocks of little birds wheeled in the breezes, playing acrobatic games in their synchronized aerobics. The calls of the birds and the sounds of wood being chopped in the background provided a sublime soundtrack to compliment... (more)
He's walking down a gray dirt road. Wagon ruts and horse hoof-prints can be seen marring the dirt. Mottled green and brown grass is growing in the center between the two worn ruts. The banks rise slightly about 3 feet on either side of the path as they slope off gently into the dark forest. The wooded floor is littered with pine needles and oddly shaped slabs of granite. Scraggly bushes grow in groups, fighting for life in their apparently ill-chosen abode. The trees are all starkly straight pine trees. Oddly enough, the branches come quite low; so low that visibility is less than 6 or 7 feet... (more)
« previous 1 next »