Along with being mentally scarring,I just felt the need to share some fan fiction I found with someone, fan fiction written by a five year old. It's just adorable. Go read it: [link]
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Five MomentsIFive Moments
she chuckles, darkly. there's a smile somewhere behind hazel eyes, but you'd be hard pressed to find it.
II
he looks to the stars, knows they hold his answer. he asks them, "why?" they don't answer.
III
she dances, the crazy music much too loud for three in the morning. a grin on her face she's happy that the pressure is gone
IV
he picks up a chair, throws it through the window. the neighborhood wakes
by ~99luftbalons
Finding SolaceAria lit the candle, a pyramid-shaped light persimmon meditation candle, and tried to center herself as its sandalwood scent filled the small dwelling. Just as her concentration reached its peak and her balance was found, a crash sounded off to her side. Turning her head, she easily discerned the cause.Finding Solace
Beside the wooden dinner table stood a small boy, no more than eleven or twelve. He stood over a broken bowl, and though he was unharmed, he directed a startled look first towards the shards of glass that glittered across the stone floor, and next up towards the older woman, though his gaze didn’t stay their long either
by ~99luftbalons
Never stop dreaming.Never stop dreaming. If you stop dreaming, you stop living. For too long I have watched others cease to dream, their incandescent minds burning out like old light bulbs, and the only things that ever seem to faze them, the things that once meant something now mean nothing to them. I don’t understand why people stop dreaming, but they do, and they do it willingly. All they ever tell us is to stop dreaming, pay attention, don’t they realize that we’re paying the most attention when we dream, and if we stop, we’ll die? Still, they tell us to stop.Never stop dreaming.
I remember growing up as the only kid that wanted to make-believe.
by ~99luftbalons
And we watchedAnd we watched the Earth shatter, bit by bit as we sat on the ground. Off in the distance, guns fired and sirens sounded. Smoke filled the air, and we coughed to clear our lungs. Running seemed, to us, cowardly, but it also seemed necessary. As we ran we could hear the dogs barking and the shouts for us to stop, that we didn’t know what we were doing, that the mob was that way. But we knew that our world was beyond riots, so we must be asleep anyways. We took the stairs of the building two and three at a time, and when we reached the roof the rioters and the police stood side by side, watching. Words like “look, a white and a coloreAnd we watched
by ~99luftbalons
Journal History
- Jan 24, 2009 Along with being mentally scarring,
- Feb 15, 2008 So...
- Jan 26, 2008 Aye, you!
AdorationdeviantID
| it's simple, to write words and say they're an honest-to-god interpretation of yourself. It's also lying, and I find that actions are more reliable than words in this way. |
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- Email: auskalangley@aol.com
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*priteeboy - proud founder of ~The Worst Artists on dA club! - take a look, have a laugh
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