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Happy Feet: A Sweet Serenade
The sunset reflecting off the pack ice in Emperorland was bright orange. Romance was in the air. Among all the eligible bachelor and bachelorette penguins desperately practicing and singing out their heartsongs that evening, one penguin was particularly nervous. His mature, black feathers bristled in the breeze, and he balanced on one foot, then the other, breathing and concentrating on what he heard deep inside, just as he had been taught all his life. Today, however, he was listening even harder for her song.
Her song was the biggest reason for his nervousness. Even with his years of practice, his tiny struggles with pitch, and the many praises he had earned from peers and his ma and pa, her voice was just perfect. He could remember how in Penguin Elementary, when she had started to sing, he was hypnotized. Every penguin surely felt the same way he did when she sang, but to him–even at times when she didn't sing at all–she was…well, she was so much more.
A funny fact about her
Nightmare: The Shadow Part I
A long time ago in the land of Halloween, the king grew tired of his holiday. When he discovered Christmas, he felt as though he had discovered a new purpose in his afterlife. In reality, his love of the winter holiday lead him on a grievous misadventure to try leading Christmas himself. He nearly destroyed Christmas that year and much more, but rather than turn further away from his holiday, he decided to set things right with both worlds and his undead heart. And since that Christmas, the holiday worlds and the creatures that inhabited them were never the same.
But there was more to Pumpkin King Jack's story than his Christmas mishap. Jack believed that one true nightmare of Halloween's past had been left behind. He was wrong
* * *
The towered manor at the edge of Halloween Town Square was always a rather noisy abode. Whether it was from the visiting ghosts or the residential family, frightening shrieks could be heard at many times of the day (and e
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More