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Never Forget
We are the, we are the, class of thirteen
Today, we remember. We remember those who were killed on impact, those who burned, those who jumped, and those who were never found. We remember those who lost their husbands, their wives, their mommies and daddies, their sisters and brothers, their best friends, their children. We remember.
Born in the era of humility
Today, we mourn. We mourn the memory of those lost, those who went before their time. We mourn our loss of innocence as a nation, the loss of trust. We mourn for those who had to sit in those planes, and listen to their loved ones lie and tell them it'll be alright, and had to tell them that no, it wouldn't be alright, but that they loved them more than anything. We mourn.
We are the desperate and in the decline
Today, we pray. No matter what religion we are, we pray to whatever unknown that those lost souls made it okay. We pray for the ones left behind, the ones left to miss them, the ones left to wish it h
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Winging It by AlcnorKinz Winging It :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 2
Missing You
I walk barefoot in the summer sun, missing you. I'm excited, for the new beginning, the new opportunities, but I know that everything will be different. Today, we passed, and you didn't say anything. You didn't hear me say anything, so I guess you didn't hear the sound of my heart tearing a little, either.
My little brother runs ahead, his childish laughter filling the silence. "Come on! I'm winning!" he shouts as he runs ahead on the sidewalk. I only look up briefly. "Fine."
Maybe winning isn't everything. Maybe the answer is to not even play, because yeah, you can't ever win, but you can't lose, either. You can just sit and wonder what would have happened, if you took that leap, and wonder if anything would have ever changed. That's like losing, too.
Maybe the answer is to take it one day at a time. Take each little victory, each smile, each laugh, each moment spent with you, and treasure it, and try to forget all the losses. But that doesn't work either. Because, no matter how many
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I sit here on the bed, just browsing through stories, when all of a sudden, I notice a persistent tap-tap-tapping on my window. When I look outside, I realize that the rumblings and tappings that I have been tuning out all this time, was a thunderstorm. The rain is pouring down, and the sky is gray and cold. Excited, I grab my camera. Wow, rain in August. But, no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to capture the beauty of the rain. Disheartened, I remind myself not to try to remember everything through pictures, but to remember through experience. Excited once more, I run down the stairs. "I'm going for a walk." I slow my pace to a walk, and begin my stroll down the street. I know I must illicit some odd looks, being dressed in only a T-shirt and shorts, and barefoot. I slow my pace even more, taking time to enjoy the warm water of the puddles on my feet, and the hundreds of cool raindrops pelting me.
I step up onto the sidewalk every so often, to allow a car to whiz by me. I
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Underwater Birthday Bash by AlcnorKinz Underwater Birthday Bash :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 0
I'm sitting here, alone, eating my lunch, reading a book from the library. It's a deserted hallway, and, if I'm sure nobody's around, I let a tear or two fall from my eyes. I miss my old school. I miss my old friends. I miss my old teachers, and the playground, and yes, I even miss the crazy lunch ladies.
I told my parents it wasn't fair, that they should let me be with my friends. I cried, I screamed, I prayed, but they weren't swayed by my pleas. I was so alone. I didn't know anybody, and nobody wanted to know me. They all hated me. I was a loser, you know the kind, the one kid who's always left without a partner, or a group, or a friend. I cried myself to sleep every night, because once again my prayers had gone unanswered.
So now I sit here, alone. I see one of my teachers walking by, and I hastily wipe the tear from my cheek. She squats down next to me, and asks in her kind, teacher voice, "Are you OK?" I nod, and hold up my book, just praying for her to go away. "Alright," she sa
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Maybe Soon
"Why don't we get to see Daddy anymore, Mommy?"
The tired woman let her head fall onto the dirty glass window of the train. It felt like it had happened just yesterday...
"Stop it!" she screamed. "David, you're hurting me!"
He pushed her away from him. "You didn't expect me to be angry, when I found out you were screwing that bastard?"
Tears streamed from her eyes. "I didn't mean it, it was a one-time thing!"
"What about the one before? Or the one before that? Or the one before that? I'm not stupid, Carol. I know what's been going on, and I'm tired of just standing back and watching you do this! I've been letting this go on for too long!" He paused for a minute, his chest heaving. "I'm leaving, Carol."
She looked at him tearfully. "What about Hailey? You can't just leave me to raise her on my own! She's your daughter, too!"
He looked at her quietly. "No, she's not. Goodbye, Carol." And without another word, he walked out of her life, out of both of their lives.

She loo
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Mature content
I'm Not Crazy :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 0
Love? by AlcnorKinz Love? :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 1 1 DeviantID 2 by AlcnorKinz DeviantID 2 :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 1 Standstill by AlcnorKinz Standstill :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 2 Underbrush by AlcnorKinz Underbrush :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 0 Nighttime Sun by AlcnorKinz Nighttime Sun :iconalcnorkinz:AlcnorKinz 0 0
She stood by the rail of the boat, watching sadly as her homeland drifted away, lit by the glow of the setting sun. She glanced wordlessly back at her captors, who payed no attention to her. Quietly, she stepped onto the rail, her balance unwavering, and fell quietly into the ocean.
The shouts of those above remained unheard to her. The only thing left to her was the water's warm embrace, the sea's caress. She looked up to the surface, the light rippling through, a beautiful mirage of freedom. She closed her eyes and smiled. The water was her home, and it was her freedom.
As the slave traders hauled the body aboard, one couldn't help notice the woman still was wearing the slightest hint of a smile.
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Cliched Horror Story
It's a cliched horror story; a psycho killer on the loose, the terrified teenagers running for their lives, futilely. A chainsaw and an ax, a knife or a gun, danger lurks around every corner.
But what if it's all in your head?
What if the terror and pain, the death and misery, it may exist, but not in the way you think; the cliched horror is all in your head.
And the frightening thing is, you don't know who you are. You know who the starring roles are, that's easy, the scary guy with the mask and the the terrified victim. The problem is, in the real world, the bad guys don't always wear a mask and the victims don't always scream until their last breath. It's impossible to choose.
But what if you're a third character, the writer dreaming it up? What if you have to see horrible memories and images of your gruesome creations, day and night, and continue to breathe life into them, keeping them alive so they can haunt your dreams?
Isn't that enough to drive anyone crazy?
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He slipped  in through the crack in the door, a shadow in the moonlight floating in from the window. She lay there, pale in the dim light, limp hand resting on  her forgotten book. He stood beside her, and gazed down at her. Her hair was tangled, splayed across her pillow, her lips slightly open.
He leaned down, and gently kissed her tearstained cheek. Then, quickly as he had come, he was gone, no more than a fading memory.
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Blank Slate
Blank slate. Start over again.
She knits a new row of blue stitches and smiles:
"Why are you crying?"
I'm not, I tell her. Do I look like I'm crying?
Your face is dry but your eyes
are that blue that they only get when you cry
even if I can't see the tears.
You're crying on the inside."
I'm not, I protest. Really, everything is fine, and I'm
just making this simpering face because that's the face I make
when I write on the blackboard in my head.
It's really full right now, I say.
Lots of shit going on these days.
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She frowns at her finished row and counts the stitches
with her thumbnail.
Pulls on the end and the whole thing comes undone.
"Start over again."
Start over from where? I don't have any loose ends, nowhere
to retreat to. I can't just spin back the clock
try to knit my rows again if they don't work out.
"Make it a blank slate.
Blank slates don't need beginnings or clocks, they just
exist and you can start from anywhere. Pick a spot and start
writing ag
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juliannam4 Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2010
Thanks for the watch :P It means a lot <3
sourgum33z Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
thanks again <3
sourgum33z Featured By Owner May 13, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
thanks, thanks, thanks, etc. haha
sourgum33z Featured By Owner May 13, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
thanks for the fave :D
sourgum33z Featured By Owner May 8, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
why thank you :)
AlcnorKinz Featured By Owner May 8, 2010  Student Writer
you are very welcome :)
ytwars Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2009  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
♥thankies for the fav!♥
lilacbird Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2009
Thanks for the watch! HOW DID YOU FIND MEEE?!
AlcnorKinz Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2009  Student Writer
KimberJim Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2009
Thanks so much for the watch! ^^
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