Living Through Fighting by CrowPhoenix, literature
Literature
Living Through Fighting
Living Through Fighting
"You wanna go?"
The whispered words echoed around in my head, and for a moment, and I just stared blankly forward at Jonathan's smirking face. I could still hear Sensei talking, but his words had seemed to fade as they left his mouth entering another plane of existence, leaving only a slight residue of their original meanings. I didn't think. I didn't size up this man that looked as much like Keanu Reeves as was physically possible for another human to pull off without being a living caricature. I knew he was faster, possessed more finesse, and was just flat out better than me.
"Yeah," I responded.
I could feel
Holding the Dream
Perhaps all I'm doing is informing the world of my own strangeness, giving them reasons to look at me with thoughts circling words like weirdo, freak, and psychopath. I'll grant you the first, I've known my whole life that I'm a little weird, you can't spend your life inside tales that you don't even live, and by that I mean stories, and not come out just a little off-kilter. I can't answer or talk to the second and third words. Those are harsh words, words of judgment and scorn. Words I have used, will use, and have had used against me in certain moments, even if I pray for the latter ones to never come, but with the subj
Greta
It's hard to describe a friend that you knew only through text on a computer screen, communicating through E-mails and message boards and instant messengers like high-speed pen pals. That world, the on-line world, is an interesting place where things don't have to be as they seem, and one person can be three different people if they so choose— and none of them actually have to be who they really are. A fifteen-year-old boy could pretend to be something as simple as 18 or as strange as a 25-year-old woman looking for a boyfriend. Those are the simple lies, the ones that might make the frequent visitor to these places blink and scratch
My World
The places around me had always changed, but one thing had always remained the same. There was always a bed, and no matter how cluttered, covered in books and comics and games and homework and notebooks, it was always a place where my imagination could run free; and through that same pathway, I too could be free. Would my escape from this reality lead me to be a space pilot, navigating with my squad after an enemy through the perils of an asteroid belt, my jet always just missing the slowly rotating hunks of metal and stone? Or perhaps, I would become a fighter of freedom, thrown headlong into the wars of my childhood dreams, where
This was it? This is what we fought for? What we gave so many lives for? I could see it now in the distance, the coastal town of Vienna Del Sol. It was at the bottom of the hill, a bright speck of sandy white off in the distance that was threatened to be swallowed by the blue of the waves, which I could just barely hear from where I stood, amidst the moans and the groans of the dying.
The town was beautiful. I had been there once as a child, when the countries of Escargio and Flamel had still been on good terms. I had traveled there with my family: My mother, my father, my three sisters and four older brothers. We had stayed in a quaint litt
Go Fish
It wasn't my usual bar, but I had come to know it well. It wasn't a seedy little joint, like those found in the movies. This one was simple. It was an old saloon called Tin Star Spirits. There was a bit of sawdust on the floor, and a little platform in the back where a piano was set up. I'd been coming here for weeks now. This was my realm. With a beer in one hand and a deck of cards in the other, I ruled over this land like a cowboy king. I was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, a denim jacket, since it was still not that cold yet in Texas, and a black cowboy hat. I had to look the part.
It was two o'cl
Go Fish
It wasn't my usual bar, but I had come to know it well. It wasn't a seedy little joint, like those found in the movies. This one was simple. It was an old saloon called Tin Star Spirits. There was a bit of sawdust on the floor, and a little platform in the back where a piano was set up. I'd been coming here for weeks now. This was my realm. With a beer in one hand and a deck of cards in the other, I ruled over this land like a cowboy king. I was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, a denim jacket, since it was still not that cold yet in Texas, and a black cowboy hat. I had to look the part.
It was two o'cl
This was it? This is what we fought for? What we gave so many lives for? I could see it now in the distance, the coastal town of Vienna Del Sol. It was at the bottom of the hill, a bright speck of sandy white off in the distance that was threatened to be swallowed by the blue of the waves, which I could just barely hear from where I stood, amidst the moans and the groans of the dying.
The town was beautiful. I had been there once as a child, when the countries of Escargio and Flamel had still been on good terms. I had traveled there with my family: My mother, my father, my three sisters and four older brothers. We had stayed in a quaint litt
My World
The places around me had always changed, but one thing had always remained the same. There was always a bed, and no matter how cluttered, covered in books and comics and games and homework and notebooks, it was always a place where my imagination could run free; and through that same pathway, I too could be free. Would my escape from this reality lead me to be a space pilot, navigating with my squad after an enemy through the perils of an asteroid belt, my jet always just missing the slowly rotating hunks of metal and stone? Or perhaps, I would become a fighter of freedom, thrown headlong into the wars of my childhood dreams, where
Greta
It's hard to describe a friend that you knew only through text on a computer screen, communicating through E-mails and message boards and instant messengers like high-speed pen pals. That world, the on-line world, is an interesting place where things don't have to be as they seem, and one person can be three different people if they so choose— and none of them actually have to be who they really are. A fifteen-year-old boy could pretend to be something as simple as 18 or as strange as a 25-year-old woman looking for a boyfriend. Those are the simple lies, the ones that might make the frequent visitor to these places blink and scratch
Holding the Dream
Perhaps all I'm doing is informing the world of my own strangeness, giving them reasons to look at me with thoughts circling words like weirdo, freak, and psychopath. I'll grant you the first, I've known my whole life that I'm a little weird, you can't spend your life inside tales that you don't even live, and by that I mean stories, and not come out just a little off-kilter. I can't answer or talk to the second and third words. Those are harsh words, words of judgment and scorn. Words I have used, will use, and have had used against me in certain moments, even if I pray for the latter ones to never come, but with the subj
Living Through Fighting by CrowPhoenix, literature
Literature
Living Through Fighting
Living Through Fighting
"You wanna go?"
The whispered words echoed around in my head, and for a moment, and I just stared blankly forward at Jonathan's smirking face. I could still hear Sensei talking, but his words had seemed to fade as they left his mouth entering another plane of existence, leaving only a slight residue of their original meanings. I didn't think. I didn't size up this man that looked as much like Keanu Reeves as was physically possible for another human to pull off without being a living caricature. I knew he was faster, possessed more finesse, and was just flat out better than me.
"Yeah," I responded.
I could feel
Current Residence: Auburn, Alabama Favourite style of art: pre-raphaelite Operating System: Windows MP3 player of choice: None Shell of choice: Red Wallpaper of choice: Whatever looks cool Skin of choice: The one I was born with? Favourite cartoon character: Sonic the Hedgehog
So, I seem to have been a little slow to actually do anything around here as of late, so I thought I'd at least explain. As of now, I have still yet to regain my courage and still fear failure so acutely that I am incapable of anything. But more troubling than that is the fact that my imagination his left me. I find myself unable to daydream. This was one of the things that got me through the day and made my nights so enjoyable to me. Whether this is punishment for my cowardice, the loss of my muse, or the effect of the boringness of my job, I cannot say. But that's the that of that. Yar! Stupid sentences abound!
Now onto the real point of t
I was finally caught by one of these things. You can thank Plaire and Doc.
If you post a comment on this journal, I will:
1 - answer with something random.
2 - dare you to try something.
3 - say a colour I associate with you.
4 - tell you something I like about you.
5 - tell you something I always remember about you / a first memory about you.
6 - tell you what animal you remind me of.
7 - ask you something I always wanted to ask you.
8 - and If I do this for you, you must put this in your journal too!
Ok, so tomorrow I leave for Otakon. I'll be gone till Monday night, so, don't freak out if I don't get back to the literal droves of
The mood is due to the fact that I uploaded some stories, and I hope you enjoy them. These stories were all written for my creative non-fiction class, and since I rarely post anything, I felt that I should at least put these up. The stories (My World, Greta, Holding the Dream, and Living Through Fighting) all seem to me as if they are interconnected works. I had alot of fun writting them.
Man, it feels good to say that.
Peace out.
Anyway, you don't have to read it, especially if the only reason you're doing so is because you mistakenly thought I tried to throw a guilt trip on you that one time (I wasn't, I just find it hard to summarize stories when the other person isn't familiar with the material).
Hi! Nice writings^^. I noticed your comment on some Darkstalkers fan art and since you're a fan of the series I'd like to ask you something! You see I'm a representative from a group over at the official Capcom website rallying up support for either a Marvel vs Capcom 2 style remix for the Darkstalkers series (not in terms of game play but sprite filtering to make them look better, online play, etc.) a port of the Chaos Tower for Xbox Live and the Playstation Network and/or a sequel and if you like the sound of either of those I can just add only your Deviant Art name to the support list =]. The VP is quite impressed with the fan turn out numbers and it'd be great to have a few more fans on board!