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Sparkfur on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/sparkfur/art/Science-361979141Sparkfur

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ValkyrieNix

Literature

Odyssey Chapter 1 The Garden

A tingling sensation came to her hand. It was like a thousand tiny swords were stabbing her there over and over and over again. But she was enjoying her sleep. It was so comfortable. So safe. Safe from… Safe from what? Her eyelids flew open and she sat up, her vision blurring as a head rush consumed her momentarily. As her vision cleared, she managed to get a sense of her surroundings. She was in the middle of a garden, and a strange one, too. All the flowers seemed to change in the dimming light of the sun, fluctuating and returning. Shakily, she got to her feet, her head spinning. Safe from what? The question remained in her head,

Literature

Amnesia

White. The room is white. White as snow. No. It is not that white. It is not a beautiful impurity. It does not glow with cold strength. It does not hold fragility in its arms. It is clean. It is perfect. It is sterile. It is sterile. She sits up slowly, and her arm automatically moves to assist her. It lifts for a moment, and then she allows it to fall back with a dull thud. Her other arm is numb with imagined pain, and she looks over curiously. Intravenous Stand. IV. With a quick pull, she tears the needle out. It slides free with a feeling that makes her stomach churn. The needle is slightly bloody, and the liquid still drips with a

Literature

The Souls

There is a place, before you are born, where your true love is written down. You are destined to meet each other. It is supposed to happen. And you are aware of this person unconsciously throughout your whole life, and that awareness is only heightened when you meet this person. Their emotions affect yours, and vice versa. They will always be there. The soul keeper writes the two soul mates together before he sends them both down, before the moment of birth. He was writing now, the younger soul mate hovering behind him, fast asleep, unaware of anything. The older soul was down below, already three years old. Chrys Wright and Evan Walker. H

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Literature

Gypsy

Perhaps she'll drop out of college, use all her bank account money and take a train to New York. Or maybe Seattle, for she likes all the cafes, the art, the vintage. Perhaps she'll return to California and live with friends and tell her parents that she's still at university. Yeah, that could work. That's one way to disappear. Maybe she'll meet a rich, married man that will take care of her as long as she's good with her tongue and her curves. He could take her to San Francisco where being strange is the norm, and she could find home in old houses smashed together for equity's sake. She'll grow fond of small towns with simple heroes an

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Nameless

I walk out of the tattoo parlor, clutching my wrist, thinking the money was well-spent. My friends walk quickly down the steps, eager to eat, be full. At the next story down there is a man huddled in the corner, ripped, dirty coat wrapped tight around his crumpled frame, worn out sneakers, stained sweatpants, fraying gloves. My friends don't really notice him, or pretend not to, but my heart squeezes a bit as I turn the corner, clutching my wrist, believing my money was well-spent. But at the third step I shudder with selfishness, heartlessness, pray to God that I don't turn into judgment and lack of humility. I swivel around, nearly fal

Literature

Dreams

A caustically fabricated memory sets a spark in the first exhalation of morning (afternoon?) and she has the urge to cry. To think that dreams -nightmares- could hold her heart with such terrible claws (but the thoughts of him hold reigns so tightly on her back; he knows many pretty women, and it's only natural to worry after the undressing, the holding hands, the crying in front of him). To think that even sleep, once repose, could beckon tears and heart-shivers and immobility. She ponders why, all of a sudden, sleep is frightening again. Perhaps it's the empathy of her nature. She feels heart-wrenching guilt for moments long past; sh

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Literature

A Viking Reborn

A Viking Reborn: The Gods have called upon me In a time when the hammer's sign. Has fallen from the heavens By the bloody heathen's design. Now weeping for the children; That will never know his name. Odin has now sent me To ease our inner pain. Remember the days of old Where once we sailed the seas. We used to be the masters Of the mountains and the trees. We tamed the rushing waters And sailed across the world. No mortal man could match us; Even mermaids gave us pearls! Our strength was the very fire That roared in the dragon's belly. We proudly wore the scales From the beasts in the valley. The dreaded monsters of lege

Literature

ASYLUM

Asylum: I scrape my hands upon the ground, Staring at my cell. I wonder why I'm trapped inside, This vivid living hell. I've heard the voices calling out, Maybe they're in my head... I wonder where my cell-mates are, Maybe they are dead... Time has no meaning in this place, Nor does the word of day and night, The food is simply human flesh, It will give you quite a fright... Upon a chair they strap me down, They open my eyes and make me shiver, They pull out a scalpel and many knives, The sight alone, it makes me quiver. They inject me with a strange chemical, The world does fade to black. I wake up in my cell again, An

Literature

Journey to Valhalla

Journey to Valhalla: The sound of battle surrounds me As axe and sword will clash. The fate of a man decided In a single metal flash. On the ground I lay awakened For the blood is rushing low. It bursts from my wound In a searing bloody flow... I scream like a raging animal As with the last of strength I thrust! My sword will pierce his lung As my enemy turns to dust... A ruined body before me Cold as the winter snow. I begin to feel quite dizzy As the heavens start to glow. I can hear the sound of horses And the cry of hungry crows. The clouds began to part As from the ground we rose! Like warriors from the grave We sto

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Writings

Literature

My Wish

Mary always liked a boy in here class named Chase. She would always try to confess her love but always chocked up. She didn't know why. She was just about to give up hope when... "Huh?" Mary was startled when a flash of light filled her room. Before her stood a silver haired girl with white angel wings who smiled before her. "Who are you?" Mary asked. "I'm here to help you with your dilemma. You wish to confess to your true love but can't." The angel spoke. "Your right I do. I like him so much. I wish he was the ideal person for me and I was the ideal person for him." Mary spoke as a light flashed in her face. "It is done. Just meet up w

Literature

Time never stops

The woman in the mirror smiles with her tired empty eyes. Deep sadness now behind that smile she wears as her disguise. Without you, her time ticks slowly by, her minutes turn to years. Life goes on relentlessly like the drip, drip, drip of her tears. Another breaking dawn without you, it breaks her lonely heart. Another day alone without you, another day apart. How could she just live on without you, how could she just go on? Each passing day she longs to see you, each waking minute gone. Her life, it will go on without you, if she wants it to or not cos just like her endless love for you, the time will never stop. Poetry by Suzanne Karba

Literature

an atheist's prayer

dear god, i planted no tulips in autumn and no tulips came in spring. how silly of me, then to mourn the empty garden, to long for fields of amsterdam, to kneel at night in cold dirt, hands folded. i’ve learned there is a certain ache in lacking a thing never had, that small itch whose relief is two seasons past – so god, if you can hear me, know that i am homesick for amsterdam, whose name, like yours, i know but whose flowers i cannot see.

poetry

Literature

4-28-15

blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue deep blue blue blue blue blue blue blue within blue blue blue blue blue blue blue a sea blue blue blue blue blue blue blue of blue blue blue blue blue blue blue blue, s t a r s k e e p t h e i

Literature

4-27-15

lights! camera! ¡acción! they dreamed of a film star; a brunette, spunky, romanticized marilyn monroe with feather boas wrapping around her neck, (not a whore, a national anthem), boys piling up at her feet offering tiffany's and cartier's; "no, no, no, no, no!" they dreamed of the rise of hollywood and los angeles, where exactly, are the angels? a place where the money piles high and the paparazzi won't stay low; but i am not a goddess, i cannot influence a nation with charisma and contorted lips. gargoyles stood at the gates of hell, mocking everyone who passed through with eyes open wide, like pizza pies, licking memorie

Literature

inhale.

hearts don't work without heads, so i smashed my own car radio just so i could sit in silence.

Poetry

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Literature

Verwurzlung fern von Beton und Staat

Blauer Himmel und weiße Wolken Trotz Dezember Im Dezember. Ich lächel nach oben Und das Leben in mich. Nicht mein Leben als Explizites, Sondern das Leben in uns allen. Ich begreife viel dieser Tage, Ohne dass mein Sprachzentrum mitkommt. Ich verbinde, was kluge Menschen sagen, Mit verschiedenen Backgrounds, Ich verflechte Gedanken Und es gibt ein größeres Bild: Nur ein Teil und eine Möglichkeit. Verwurzlung fern von Beton und Staat, Sozialisierung bleibt, Aber Knoten lösen sich.

Literature

Rebuild Me

My supernova exploded, my coronal mass ejecting, leaving me a shell of myself, a neutron star core rotating— swiftly on axis, unbalanced, shifting about and wobbling— aimlessly through the universe, desperate need of steadying… I feel your hands touch along me, your strength restrained while timidly you grasp to the shards, the strongest, those that have endured fragilely, afraid they may break, or shatter, if you hold them too securely, but still you clutch on without pause, these pieces of me, steadfastly. The next thing I know, you begin, with a painstaking devotion, shards are fit in place one by one, constructing my n

Science

Sparkfur

Published: Mar 28, 2013

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Description

Photocredit: [link]

This is something I really believe in. Science is the observation of the world around us; it can't be denied, or you deny that our material world exists. Science is the basis of all things in life, and those who can't see it are blind.

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640x400px 131.74 KB

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