So I thought I'd do a journal update because I'm bored. During our travels, my partner and I met a cool Swiss couple who invited us to go and say in their CASTLE in Germany. It was pretty nice. After that we travelled to Berlin, but it looks like we won't be moving for a few days because I have to stay in the hospital for a little while. Hence the bordem.

Feel free to do something to make me less bored/cheer me up.

It's autumn. This is one of my favourite things in the whole world. Undoubtedly the best season of the year, so if you'd like to make me really happy, send me some autumn pictures/poems/stories!

Features!

So a massive round of applause for the honourable mentions of Writers--club's Confessions of a King contest!

:thumb399945427: :thumb404381243: Memories of a Golden AgeSitting on his seat, the old man sighed.
The air before him seemed to condense time as he sat and waited. 
The room about him was lavish and opulent, but it was empty. 
There would be no one to sit with him to await the inevitable.
It was quiet now.
The long line of relations had come and gone, putting on a show of grief.
Then he had banished the doctors as well.
It seemed as thought the Universe was standing still. 
Blinking slowly. 
The old man caught a glimmer of something in the corner of his eye.
He wondered if his mind was fading now.
Watching the flames dance in the fire before him, the old man wondered if his memories meant anything before.
He had certainly not bothered with either past nor future before. 
He had never had any need to do so.
From one moment to another he had lived, sight only on the here and now.
Little wonder those who should have been closest to him were nothing more than colourful shadows in his life.
And the people...
Faceless masse

:thumb397422004: Confessions Of A KingAs the deep and suffocating silence started enveloping itself around our ears, we soon felt the gelid winds blowing through the spaces between our bones, which were apparently guarded by a thin layer of skin and clothes. The sky acquired dark shades of blue and shining white spots warmly twinkled upon our heads. All kind of signs popped to warn us the "safe" day was no more.
Mother and father showed concern upon their expressions, as usual. I was unsurprised once my father's strong arms lifted me from the ground, my robe falling down my legs, and took me back to our little tent, placed in the safest spot.
At our arrival, the old man sharing tenement with us bowed in full respect at our presences. He was the one to take my parents to their sleeping corner, considering the tent was quite high, but certainly didn't share the same measure in width.
Father had already allowed me to place a foot on the moist ground, however I could notice his usual calm eyes show warning towards the old man,

ChessI confess that despite the death and war
I've never mourned the lost with tears.
I never let shivers crack my soul
when my men struggled across the marble field,
or burned the edges of my hickory heart,
as they lept into the synchronized fray.
I confess that though I had the crown
it was welded to my name:
that though I ruled the clamouring masses
in the end they ruled me.
No, my throne is of rusting steel
of the rotting cores of kings,
it binds me to the empty title,
and leaves the castle bitter-sweet.
I confess that all I ever did
was wait for the queen that fate assigned me
to glide on delicate wings of angels
and fall with the rage of never-righted wrongs,
that I expected my "nobility:" my knights, my pawns,
to die for what ever cause I was supposed to keep.
I confess when I saw the world fall around me
I laughed and watched it shatter on the ground,
that as my wife was thrown from the field,
part of me loved how beautifully she died.
And I confess that even now as the dark blooded

All I Know (Everybody Loves Me)It seems the eyes of the world
are upon you today.
(they always are, the people,
no, your people, have always loved you;
the golden one, the eldest son,
the favorite, the…
well, they know what you are.
Nobody’s ever let you forget.)
You smile at the man beside you,
throw your arm around his shoulder,
look the part of the supportive brother
for long enough.
(Even without words,
he knows what you’re really saying.
Better luck next time.
The pomp and circumstance may be for him,
but the people are here to see you.)
Then you go back to showing off,
because the people want you.
They love you.
(And you know exactly how
to play the crowd.
The crowds are your kingdom,
and here, you rule. You know exactly
what to say and do to make them cheer
your name, and only your name.)
You give them a broad wave
and a smile,
conscious the whole time
of how the sunlight and shadows
play across your body,
careful to stay in the best light.
(You know you’re beautiful,
but it do

And now for the winners! *drumroll*

Les Aveux D'Un Roi"I thought you said you didn't smoke?"
Roy blew out a stream of smoke, watching it spiral upwards towards the night sky. It was a cloudless sky, but the only light she could see came from the lonely full moon and the neon lights of the city. There were no stars. Not in this world.
There hadn't been any stars for a long time.
His voice came into her mind again, unbidden.
"You're keeping too many secrets from me."
They had been arguing. A family plagued by a demon had asked for Loa's help in banishing it, and in turn Loa had enlisted their help. It wasn't a particularly difficult demon, but it had been around for a very long time - apparently no one born after the 1400s was good enough to destroy it. Even by immortal standards, Loa was still pretty young, and so he had called upon them as a last resort. He didn't know what else he could do, especially since not even a combination of holy water, scriptures, religious idols, and some bad-tempered curses (and Loa was incredibl - 3^rd place

Confessions of a KingAll he could remember was the horror in her eyes when she found out. And then it turned to pain, and then to sadness. She was sad for him; the pain in her eyes was for him.
He didn’t know if that was beautiful or tragic. Maybe both. Her eyes always were a tragic beauty to him; so enchanting yet so dead. Perhaps that was what compelled him to her: To him she was like a puzzle made up of a thousand pieces, needing time and patience to put back together. She haunted his thoughts; he concluded that she was a mystery, because the warmth she gave others was neither in her eyes nor in her smile, and that she was broken into a thousand pieces, because the smile she wore never reached her eyes.
He stared at her calm, sleeping face. She was beautiful, with orange, wavy hair and full lips; her cheeks dotted with freckles and her eyes a deep blue that always managed to capture him. The sunshine that filled the bedroom made it seem like she was glowing; she was smiling, and he f - 2^nd place

Four of a Kind (Confessions of a King).I am
The upward curl
Of her mouth,
The smile she wears
When she has no doubt
That what she sees
Is true.
I am all her cares.
I am the glimmer
In her eyes -
All she sees
Because I leave her blind.
I am the polluted oxygen
She thrives off of -
The very same toxicity
Coursing through her veins,
Merely a harlequin
Who increases her pains.
I am the king
Of her body,
Of her heart.
I am all that she values
And I value all that
She has to lose.
I am the fall
Before the pain,
The slow dancing
Of the dying leaves
In a season
Without the rain.
I am the largest planet
In her universe,
Maybe not her sun
But I am the only one
Her earth
Revolves around.
I am the diamonds
Around her neck,
Throttling her with authority
And leaving her to be
Nothing but a silent wreck.
I am the one
To whom she willingly
Sacrificed her sanity,
The one
Who should consider himself lucky
To receive it all for free.
I am lacking
The adrenaline that conquest
Should bring -
The fire I set ablaze
To triumph her
Old ways
Now mea - 1^st place

Groups

Right, so I'm thinking that Pocket-Stories will be the name of the new group I make. I'm going to get writing/planning some workshops while I have nothing else to do. (Be excited!) ^.^

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Recent Commented/Critiqued Pieces

These writers all deserve a bit more recognition. Give them a bit of a read and perhaps even a watch!

Godsfall Chapter 1: Call to the Gods.The priests had said prayer would save his mother, so Osar prayed for a year and a day. Dawn til dusk, beseeching shadow and sunlight. Oft late past the darkening hour he’d bowed his head and grovelled, bargained, begged. He had devoted himself to Dionas the Golden God. But Dionas hadn’t heard the prayers, or worse, refused to answer them. Even the gods couldn’t cure cancer.
Osar wrenched another weed from the overturned earth.
And for all of his devotion what did he have to show for it? A grave dug by his own hands and a dead woman to fill it. The Golden God might have been the city’s patron and its father, but Osar didn’t want to trade his mother for a surrogate deity.
Osar gained his feet, brushing dirt from his vestments. His knees were muddied and earth was jammed between his toes thanks to the open-end sandals. His hands, soft and delicate from months of prayer, were bloodied and engrained with dirt from tending to the grave.
A voice from behind Osar Friendly FireRudi Foerster idly swirled the red wine in his glass before downing it in one gulp, much to the distaste of the waiter hovering nearby.  The Luftwaffe officer thumped the glass down, making the bottle – and the waiter – jump. His chair scraped against the pavement as he stood up and waved at an approaching figure. “Hey, Heinrich! Over here, my friend!”  
Heinrich Drescher raised his arm in reply. This was the first time he’d been in Paris in just over a year, being caught up in the fighting on the Eastern Front. He was recuperating from a thigh wound and his leg was still a bit stiff.  He pulled out the chair opposite his friend and sat down.
“Would you like to try some wine?” Rudi enquired, holding up the bottle.
Heinrich shook his head politely. “No, thank you. Too early for me.” He turned to the waiter. “Just a coffee, please.”
“Certainly, Monsieur.”
The Wehrmacht captain turned back to his DollsI hate dolls. Absolutely hate dolls. They're creepy. Oh, not all dolls are creepy. No, the glass dolls were the creepy dolls. They're eyes never moved. They stared at you all day. They stared at you all night. Never blinking. Oh, no, pardon me, dolls don't blink, yet some dolls blink. They blink when they're not supposed to blink. My hate for dolls didn't appear over night. No, my hate for them stemmed from one particular doll. My mum called her Dahlia. Dahlia was my Christmas present when I was 8 years old. Hey, I was delighted when I got that nasty doll. I wanted a doll. All my friends had them. They were all the rage of that day and age. It was the best Christmas present in the world. 
Well, it was the best present -- until it started to happen. 
I was a happy 8 year old. My family life wasn't bad, and I got whatever I asked for when I wanted it. (Ah, perks of being an only child.) My life was perfect, and, at the time, nobody could have made me believe

Full Moon Surprise“Nah, we’ll find it, mate.”
Thus spoke the driver of the removal van while he and his crew idly puffed on their cigarettes. ‘It’ in this case was Jim and Jill’s new home, a converted bungalow. It was one of three bungalows originally intended as retirement homes for wealthy couples  in their dotage. Nestled in a pine forest, they gave the impression of  isolation, despite being only several miles from a motorway.
The driver’s assurance soon rang hollow as Jim spent twenty minutes on the phone pacing fretfully on the gravel driveway trying to give the driver directions, exactly what he offered to do earlier.. Apparently, the road in question didn’t show up on the driver’s sat nav.
That wasn’t the last of  the newly-married couple’s troubles.  When the van finally arrived, the crew simply dumped the furniture on the driveway. When Jim confronted the driver about this, he was met with a solid wall of imp Going HomeI awoke from what I was certain was my death.
I remember it quite well.  I had been in traffic, aggravated because I needed to get home. But why had I needed to get there? The landlord. The landlord had called and said that he was coming to my house because the neighbors had reported water leaking out my kitchen door. And I had to get there.  I had to get there before him.  Why?
I know I was in my car, stuck between 39th and 40th streets on Darcy Avenue, waiting to merge onto a grid locked Interstate.  I wasn't going to make it in time.  He was going to go in before I got home, and that couldn't happen.
There was stress in my life for sure, and the chest pains hadn't been abnormal. But I remember the dizziness and the steering wheel coming at me with the Chevy logo looming large in my eyes.
And now here I am, sitting on a hillside.  There are high hills with rocky outcroppings all around me, lush grass covering all the soil wi Kadler's Keep - Ch IGrace and Honor were the first to go.
They mean nothing in Kadler’s Keep.
Past the mountain’s secret place,
Through the dungeon’s deepest pit.
Your light means nothing in Kadler’s keep.
There’s a legend passed down by song in my hometown I’ve heard over and over again like it was some fairy tale the mothers told their children before bed every night, but this tale was always spoken of—whether something bad happened or not, but especially when something bad happened. That thing was Kadler’s Keep.
Before I get into explaining what Kadler’s Keep is, let me start with the story of how I started talking about Kadler’s Keep to begin with. A week ago, a soldier from a nearby town came stumbling into our small village. We, the villagers, were gathered around the town center in our weekly prayer when he stumbled out of the Black Forest. There were gasps, shouts and screams from the women and some men. My sister grabbed onto my s

I Hate SupermarketsI never liked going to the supermarket.
Too much variety. I never knew what to choose. I picked up a brightly coloured box of cereal that declared it was new.
“Spaced Out Sugar Flaky Puffs?” A weird name for a weird-looking cereal. It looked like a cross between a cornflake and a puff of rice. It also boasted a mystery free gift. Couldn’t be too fancy, but what the heck?
I bought a box.
I got back to my shoebox that had the cheek to consider itself a flat. Some people ate cereal at other times of day other than the morning, but I usually wasn’t one of them.
Usually.
This time I decided to be different.
Opening the box, I pulled out the bag to check where this free gift was supposed to be. I found that it wasn’t in the bag itself, but the bottom of the box.
It was a moon-shaped pendant, of all things. It looked metallic, but I fully expected it to be made of plastic.
I was wrong.
Something made me rub it between my thumb and forefinger.
Big mistake.
I was i Handmade LessonsHe decided to raise the baby well.
(He had decided this previously, but the newest plan only clicked and secured in the hardest throes of grief.)
That was why he designed the baby mobile and cot from scratch. They were perfect and ready for when it returned from social services. They were filled with lessons.
The baby cried as it left the social woman’s arms to the father’s calloused hands. She told him not to worry about that and it’ll be fine. He fed the crying baby as the social woman watched, and when the social woman left he took the baby to the cot.
(The real one. Not the Ikea cot in the decoy nursery.)
The skeleton of the cot was normal enough, but he had wrapped it in a football net, so the baby would learn that it was caught and trapped. No one chose to be born. Not even him or the child’s mother. Everyone was pushed in and everyone was ripped out. And in the middle, everyone struggled.
He put it in the cot, and wiped the wet tiredness from his cheeks. Matched Ch. 6School had always been enjoyable to me. I loved to learn about anything and everything. Taking in information was honestly what I felt that I did best. Now, however, I was beginning to feel like an intruder in my own classroom as I looked around the room at the faces of my classmates who were in on Gage’s plan. I was becoming paranoid that they were constantly judging me and wondering if I was strong enough to go through with the plan, and I could tell that Lily was beginning to notice.
When we went out to lunch that day we sat in our same spot and ate our packaged meal provided by the Government just like we did every day. I stared down at our food that consisted of the ideal servings of fruit, protein, and vitamins and wondered when the Government even started giving people lunches like this and wondered if this was just another way they had for controlling us. As I stared down at my lunch Lily touched me lightly on the shoulder and I looked over at her. She looked concerned an

Matched Ch. 7A few weeks went by, and Gage never mentioned the idea of going to the other Villages again. I knew this should have comforted me, because maybe if he wasn’t talking about the idea then it was possible he had dropped the plan to do it altogether. This was a nice notion to try to believe, but I knew better. Gage’s silence was not good; in fact it was making me worried. Gage’s silence could only mean that he was figuring out how to convince us to be a part of his idea, and thinking in depth about how to execute his plan. I was glad to have convinced Gage to do what Liam wanted, but I was worried that perhaps in doing so, I had sparked even more craziness in Gage. I knew today would be the day that I would find out at least some of what he was thinking since today was our first meeting as a group since the day he’d first brought me to them and told my fellow classmates that I knew about their plans to attempt escape.
Gage had met me after school and we’d walk Matched Ch.8I stood in front our Village’s Government building and I felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. I knew this day was coming and I had been feeling ready for weeks, but now that it was actually here I felt like my nerves would cause my heart to explode.
Gage, on the other hand, was just as calm as ever. He stood next to me beaming as we took in the grand sight of the large white building before us. The Government building was about as old as our library and had huge pillars holding up the marble roof and an intimidating amount of steps leading up to the front doors. I wanted to proceed up the stairs to get our task over with, but I couldn’t find the strength to move. I was so nervous my hands were shaking. I had never actually been in contact with someone from the Government and I was worried they’d see right through our fabricated story and right into our real intentions. I thought of the Government as something that was omnipotent and simply going Matched Ch.9Ivan was never found, and we knew that he never would be. A few days passed by and there was no acknowledgement from our Village’s Government that he was even missing. No one in our class discussed his disappearance and our teacher never mentioned his name in class again. It was almost as if Ivan had never existed.
After this our group was visibly shaken. We hadn’t met in the woods since, and we hadn’t had a chance to discuss the matter yet, but whenever I looked around the classroom I could see that everyone’s demeanor had changed, especially Gage’s. Ivan and him had been good friends and Ivan had been a big supporter of Gage’s plan. With him gone, I could see worry and fear written all over Gage’s face. Ivan’s disappearance was either a warning to stop what we were doing or some other Government scheme. Either way, this was not good for our Village or our plan to leave.
Lily and I had been eating mostly in silence. There hadn’t be

Tale of a treeDark.
The world is dark.
And... wet. Water like the smoothest caress.
But it is not enough.
Thirsty.
And... it's strangely warm. Like... like in a warm embrace of a living being. Covering you whole.
Thirsty.
Thirsty and suffocating.
Need air.
Drink water, but not enough.
Air not enough.
Warmth not enough.
Need to stretch.
And stretch.
Stretch towards the weight. Weight is calling. Weight promises more water.
Stretch away from the weight. Away from the weight, away from the warm embrace. Break free.
Free.
Thirsty.
Following the weight, going deep. Cooler here. Dark, in here. But there is water. Deep is a refuge. Deep is safe. Deep is water.
Deep is life.
Going away from the weight. Escaping the weight. Break free. It's hard to break free.
But then -
Air.
Air, and the world is suddenly open, awaiting you.
Away from the weight, there is air. It shakes you. It caresses you. It embraces you. Dancing around you, kissing you. Sweet, beautiful air.  
Take more breaths. Fill yourself with :thumb384132421:

Quote of the Week

"Love alleviates you the moment you become too sick with it. Live to love, even if you don't outlive the experience." 
― Bauvard, Evergreens Are Prudish

Picture of the week