|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Lizard ManThe Lizard Man
I smiled as I looked out the car window at the passing landscape, this was great, we were going to get to test out some of our prototypes today. I should explain, see, I build recreational craft, skee-doos, quads, dirt bikes, snowmobiles, and stuff like that. Today's special, jet powered dune buggies and turbocharged rocket sleds. Not everything we make in our shop involves five foot columns of flame, but last month, we got a great deal on some jet engines, and felt we had to do something with them.
We pulled into the testing grounds late in the day, and while the others began hurridly unpacking, I stretched, and wandered around the salt flats for a little while. James, who was halfway through unlatching the chains around the dune buggy, asked "why aren't you helping unload?" and I replied "it's too late in the day to do any tests today, I'm just gonna set up my tent around nightfall, we can do everything else tomorrow morning."
Why do you struggle, little one? Don't you know it's over?
those who care are gone, you have not a lover.
You are doomed now, you shall quench my hunger,
So why fight anymore, why show such anger?
Your fate has been sealed, by way of your hand.
You have blundered into my land.
So why fight, naïve?
why not accept you grave?
The small one looked into mine eyes
and it gave out a shrill cry "I shall not die!"
It beat on my legs, it swatted my scales,
yet it's desperate assault, was doomed to fail.
I picked them up, and to them I spoke
You be not an ordinary bloke
Little one, little one, when all is lost, you still fight on,
how do you carry on, with no promise of the dawn?
They stared at me, with eyes red with hate
and then they spoke "I shall not accept my fate!"
In all my years, in all my time,
never once did truer words chime.
I set the tiny fighter down, and set them free
yet, to my surprise, the warrior did not flee
Go on, young one, you have earned your right to live,
The CameramanThe Cameraman
We drove on through the African savanna. How I got this job was still a mystery to me, my agent just called me up, and asked "how would you like to help with a documentary?" Now I was holding a camera, sitting in the passenger seat of a customized humvee, following the tracking device signal on a lion they had tagged a while ago.
"alright, it's moving around a lot" the naturalist guy next to me said, I looked at the screen, it was darting around, and was about two hundred yards ahead of us. I powered up the camera, and leaned out onto one of the four little "camera turrets" as I called them, which were extensions to the deck that allowed a cameraman to have a 180 degree field of view.
I looked around in the direction that the signal was, and even after toying with the zoom, I couldn't spot anything "alright, it's stopped moving." I looked back at the screen, and it was stopped, I zeroed my camera in on the approximate direction it was c
The HistorianThe Historian
I leaned back, took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, this latest find was straining my knowledge of the 2010's. it was a human artifact, and in surprisingly good condition, which was why they sent it to me, I was one of the few who had a knowledge of pre-war computers.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment, before my colleague, Carter, said "you really shouldn't overwork yourself, that thing will still be there in the morning."
"I know, but this is the first time they sent me one."
"What is it, anyways?"
"It's a laptop computer, idiot, it's what they used before they had neural interfaces."
"Oh, so it's a human one, then?"
"Uh, yeah? All I need to do is rework the power supply and I should be able to conjure some life out of it, who knows what knowledge is hidden inside, it could answer hundreds of questions."
"But weren't all those things fried when the bombs fell?"
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More