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Seperate Ways (Part 3)It was growing dark. Sophie hated the dark. Monsters lurked in the dark.
The little girl huddled underneath the tree, her clothes still soaked. The wetness of her clothes made the night seem colder. She shivered and sobbed. She wanted to go home.
Not home to the baobab tree. She had vowed never to go back there. But she remember the life she had before she met Erik. With her Aunt Tilly and Uncle Ester…
They had lived outside the jungle, in the human town. Her aunt and uncle had said that her parents had disappeared long ago when she was four, and no one knew where they went, or if they were still alive. They had taken her in and raised her in their shop, selling wool, fur, and jewelry. Aunt Tilly said their village was built around a trading post. All kinds of creatures came and went in the village. Centaurs, driders, satyrs, harpies…mostly anthros and humans, though.
One night, the shop was being robbed, and the thieves had taken her hostage so the couple wouldn’t
Why we call it a Storage StomachSophie was bored. In fact, she was beyond bored. In the humid mid-day in the swamp, while Erik was napping under a beam of sunshine through the treetops, Sophie was pitifully, dreadfully bored. There wasn’t much to do while her friend was asleep. He didn’t like her leaving the baobab tree, for fear that she would get lost or something. So she was stuck in the hallow to the large tree, with nothing to do.
She had already searched out every nook and crane of the tree, all the secret cracks in the wall, all the underground tunnels made by the roots, every rock already overturned. There was nothing new to do. And she hated it.
Being only a child, Sophie was very lively and playful and fidgety. She couldn’t sit still for more than ten minutes if she could help it. And if she was sitting, she had to be doing something, whether it be yanking up grass or pacing around or humming and swaying to a tune.
She peeked out at Erik every two minutes, to see if he had woken up. He was
The Lullaby"Your hair is really soft." Sophie said from her spot upon his back.
Erik didn't respond. The naga simply continued to lay there, resting his head on his arms which were crossed in front of him.
The air was humid and warm outside, but in the boabab tree, it was a little cooler. Especially for Erik, who was laying on the cool dirt. He was resting, not doing much of anything except listening to his little human talk while she played with his long hair.
"How do you keep it so soft, Erik? I've never seen you take a bath before." she added, rubbing a handful to her face. He barely felt it. She couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not, so she talked anyway, just in case.
"My Aunt Tilly used to tell me how soft my hair was when I was a baby and complain how stringy it is now. I never noticed. I like my hair, even when it's dirty and tangled."
She paused and looked to the entrance of the tree. The light outside was dimming. Soon it would be nightfall and it would be pitch black. She frowned and
Seperate Ways (Part 1)Erik smiled gently down at the tiny girl cuddling into his palm. She looked so cute, being so small. He knew he was more than capable of crushing her with his pinky. The idea of being so powerful made him feel like a god. He was the largest, strongest naga in the land, he had no competition for the best foods and the biggest tracts of land. His strength came from hill-sized muscles and his monumental size. He could take her life away with one careless move.
The huge naga tenderly rubbed her back, his finger pad completely covering her minuscule form. His eyes wandered from his thick, sinewy hand up to his mighty forearm. He lifted it up and laid his great arm against her back. He flexed it a few times, her body moving with the rise and fall of his rippling muscles. Why did he feel so affectionate for something so small? Sophie was only as big as his fingertip. Smaller than most humans he had eaten as a mere bite-sized snack. Yet, he hadn't made a meal out of her?
He rolled onto his sto
Seperate Ways (Part 2)At first, it wasn’t so bad. Sophie had found a nice, pointy stick, and used it as a weapon against anything she came across. The jungle’s swamp was full of all kinds of nasty creatures. Frogs and bugs mostly. Many of the bigger animals left her alone, since she seemed to be too tiny to make a meal out of.
This, unfortunately, made her feel bolder. She strode along, waving her stick, even challenging some things in battle. And that was how she got the attention of Noah.
Noah was taking a nap after just eating two large cranes. His bellies were nice and full, and he was taking a nap on a warm rock, sunbathing himself. He was a smaller naga than Erik, but still large compared to Sophie. She was about as big as his thumb.
The child was prancing around, playing pretend warrior princess, when she ran smack into his mud-colored tail. She scowled and jabbed it with her stick. “Who dares attack Sophie, the warrior princess of the jungle?” she snapped. At first, she thoug
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More