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equestriatola
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04 Nov 2012, 2:29 am

The following is a short story, from the POV of a random woman who is the only one that loves me. Her name is what you make it.......
----
I hold you in my arms, knowing that in the time that you have lived, you say that your are cursed because your Aspie's. When you tell me this, you start to cry. You then tell me you are snakebitten because of it; having Asperger's is a social death sentence. I reassure you. "Johnny....... we are all not perfect. Nobody deserves to be prejudged because of what you have; it's why our society has gotten worse and worse over the years....... too many mean people out there." I stroke your long raven locks, your chocolate brown eyes are all watery and with tears dripping down your face; all because of what society has done to you, look down on you and put you on the same level as a child molester or a baby killer. "I love you....... no matter what, and for all eternity." And then I sing something to you, that you are not alone.


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The Canadian Football League - What We're Made Of

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ComradeKael
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06 Nov 2012, 3:05 am

I do not quite understand
Has fate itself grabbed me by the hand
Where did everything go wrong?
The melancholic tune of the everlasting song

For what I doomed to live such a life
Free of glee; To only exist in perpetual strife
The blood of my ancestors; Cursed in it’s nature
Damned and doomed; Placing me ever in emotional danger

This prison in which; I was forced into upon conception
Aching and tired; Meandering with nihilistic sense of direction
Where did I go wrong; Had my essence of lives long past deserved this
Would they themselves live a life with the absence of all bliss?

Woe in which one would call my existence
Perpetually all that I am; All that I was has become my essence
Yet I do not hold delusions of grandeur
For there are others; Who’s pain they have endured

Yet I; The coward have attempted to flee from thyself
Always to attempt; Always destined to fail
The failure of that; Which would leave me destitute and frail
Remedies that would touch my lips; Do little to stave the terror

Perceiving that which has been my truth; My internal soul split by a fissure

For those which shall stand by me; Often times scowl and cry
Those whom would claim to stand by me; Often times simply fled and left me to die
But they that have abandoned me; I curse with my bitter breath
As they too; Cowards whom would leave a person to their very death

I now push first; One may pull away, yet this I have grown to expect
My actions of this would permit me to deject
The self fulfilling prophecy I have grown to analyze
I have grown to comprehend; I have grown to realize



Albirea
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13 Nov 2012, 4:06 am

(Well, I nearly made my RP character commit suicide. I'm a cruel person.)

Have you ever been so lovesick, you just wanted to scream at the world, demanding to know what you did to deserve such cruelty? Have you ever wanted someone so much that your heart wasted away, bit by excruciating bit, knowing that you can’t have them? Have you ever cried day and night, until you had no tears left, wishing that you could magically turn your life around into a perfect fairytale?

Even before she left Alfons’s house, she could feel the tears coming. It was painful seeing him every time, yet she went back again and again. The sight of him was like some kind of drug, making her heart flutter and warming her instantly. Yet it also brought a stab of pain to the core of her soul - the pain of reality, that he could never be hers.

She was not the type to start fights, and she knew that, being a gentle soul, he would not appreciate it either. In this way she felt trapped - it had been so uncontrollable, so sudden, so all-consuming, and there was no way out of this limbo. He was her every thought at every moment, twisting her heart in unimaginable ways. He bound her in chains, never letting her mind float to anything else. He held her prisoner in the most blissful of prisons, and threw away the key.

Even though she was an atheist, she would pretend that God was real and pray every night that things would work out, that he could be hers at last. Like a child, she would wish on every wishing star that she happened to lay her eyes on. She would wish to escape her torture at exactly 11:11, morning and night, every day. But she knew the wishes were futile.

She slowly trudged through the snow until she arrived home. She threw her coat onto the coat rack. It fell down, but she didn’t bother with it. Instead, she took off her shoes and ran straight upstairs to her room. She locked the door and flopped onto her bed, thoroughly spent. Like a teenager crying over a breakup, she buried her face in the pillow and felt live tears start to stream out. She was used to this by now, but since she had seen him today and had even dared to discuss her love again, the pain cut into her heart even more.

She could not live like this anymore. She was tired of being a slave to her own emotions, unable to take control of who she loved. In her desperation, she opened the drawer of her bedside table. It took some rummaging, but she found it. She held the knife in her hands, admiring its beauty and craftsmanship. Such exquisiteness the world had, such gems and wonder. It was a pity that she wouldn’t be able to see them any longer.

She held the blade to her throat, and closed her eyes. Her teammates and lab colleagues would miss her, but she would be duly replaced. Ember would be fed by her teammates, and Alfons… She could not bear to think of him any longer. She gritted her teeth, pressed on the blade—

She sliced herself gently.

Horrified by her action, she dropped the knife onto her bed. It stained the fabric slightly with her blood. She looked down, and there was a small spurt of blood coming out of her neck. The knife had punctured the artery, but it was not bleeding too badly. She quickly covered the wound with her hand and ran downstairs. The Medigun was right where she had left it, leaning against the closet. She aimed it at her throat and pushed the lever until the red rays radiated out of the device, closing the small gash.

She shook her head with disgust. Was she really going to give up everything she had worked for, everything she valued, just for one unfortunate love? Luckily she had come to her senses just in time, and was in control just enough to stop herself from killing herself instantly. Her heart pounding, she began to sob again, regret and guilt washing over her. Nothing was worth dying for.

There was a scar where she had cut herself. It wasn’t too visible from far away, but one could definitely see it up close. She sighed. There wasn’t anything she could do to get rid of the scar, a permanent reminder of what she had done to herself. But the least she could do was wash the blood off her hands and face.

She grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the shower.


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equestriatola
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13 Nov 2012, 3:38 pm

A random story:
----
It was the day of my wedding. Finally. Dodger Stadium, on a nice pleasant April day; my wife, Andrea and I were both in Japanese garb; this Japanese style wedding at a baseball park was just what I wanted to usher in my new Los Angeles life. My parents were not invited; I'd finally burned all bridges with them out of anger of their ultra-conservative Mormon like ways.

Nothing could go wrong. Or could it? When all of a sudden, one b**** interloper who hated me threw flour on my hakama saying, "GET AWAY FROM JERRY SANDUSKY, EVERYONE! IT'S JERRY SANDUSKY!" My 'brothers' came up to me. "You OK, man?" Jonathan said. "Yeah, it's that one b**** who hates me so much because of my social skills...... and I see the LAPD is coming after her a**........."

Jonathan said, "That girl has it all wrong, Johnny. You are not a child molester......... she apparently is stupid and blind!"

At that point, the girl who must not be named, had her flour confiscated, tased and escorted way from Dodger Stadium. The wedding continued as if nothing happened, thanks to the aid of my 'brothers' and the LAPD. Fun was had by all, and it was a nice way to start a new chapter of my life in Southern California. I could not be more happier.


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LIONS-STAMPEDERS-ELKS-ROUGHRIDERS-BLUE BOMBERS-TIGER-CATS-ARGONAUTS-REDBLACKS-ALOUETTES

The Canadian Football League - What We're Made Of

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abacacus
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13 Nov 2012, 5:55 pm

*Whistles a little*

My Writing Account

*Runs*


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equestriatola
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14 Nov 2012, 5:13 pm

A commercial idea:
----
AD: IGNORANCE
(We see a normal looking kteen who may be autistic in a convention center. As he walks by, a horde of con-goers and cosplayers scream and start to run away, until every last one of them leaves the con site, leaving the place empty. The teen starts crying.)
V/O: You wouldn't do this to any other person, would you?
WORDS ON SCREEN: "PRE-JUDGING HURTS."

This, BTW, is an ad for an Austism organization.


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LIONS-STAMPEDERS-ELKS-ROUGHRIDERS-BLUE BOMBERS-TIGER-CATS-ARGONAUTS-REDBLACKS-ALOUETTES

The Canadian Football League - What We're Made Of

Feel free to talk to me, if you wish. :)

Every day is a gift- cherish it!

"A true, true friend helps a friend in need."


Albirea
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16 Nov 2012, 7:47 pm

He was still holding her body. A thin wisp of iridescence drifted up and enveloped him in a last soft touch of warmth. It rose up and disappeared into the air forever.


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equestriatola
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17 Nov 2012, 7:45 pm

Finally, a slightly funny story from me.
---
THE BOXING GLOVE ALARM CLOCK
It was a clear day at the LACC, it was the site of the 46th annual SoCal Inventor’s Fair. I had one booth; one of the ideas that I had was an alarm clock w/a boxing glove.

As the crowd gathered around my booth, they wanted to see the wonders of this new twist on the traditional alarm clock.

“Everypony, listen. Do you ever hit the snooze repeatedly, and you end up being late to work or school? Well, this new alarm clock should help prevent that! When the alarm rings a boxing gloves will come up and tap you on the face to tell ya to wake up!” I hit the alarm clock. When the time came, it wouldn’t work. Then I jostled the unit a few times….. but then….

THWACK!! The boxing glove hit me at a speed of about 35 mph, hitting my nose and breaking it. A horrified crowd saw my nose all broken. “JONATHAN! DAMMIT! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” My assistant Jonathan said…. “Johnny, have no fear; there’s an ambulance outside the con center…… I believe there may be room for one more!”

The Ambulance sent me to Cedars-Sinai; the doctors there said my nose had been broken in three different places. Yikes. They bandaged up my nose, and now I looked like an ABSOLUTE mess.

“That g**d**n alarm clock! It was supposed to tap me in the face, and now my F***ING NOSE IS BROKEN!” It was the last time anybody saw the boxing glove alarm clock.


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LIONS-STAMPEDERS-ELKS-ROUGHRIDERS-BLUE BOMBERS-TIGER-CATS-ARGONAUTS-REDBLACKS-ALOUETTES

The Canadian Football League - What We're Made Of

Feel free to talk to me, if you wish. :)

Every day is a gift- cherish it!

"A true, true friend helps a friend in need."


Albirea
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21 Nov 2012, 12:33 am

It's still unfinished, but this describes my time at college so far pretty well.

(Verse 1)
Rain falls from the night sky
I look out and see the sun rise
And I wonder why I do this
To myself, every time
I’m stuck here spinning a web of lies

(Chorus)
What I thought had been my greatest dream
Turned out to be a nightmare.
No matter how I try so hard
There’s failure everywhere.
And I look back on my past and see
How perfect everything had been
And I wanna go back to the way it was
Blue skies, sun, and carefree.


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abacacus
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21 Nov 2012, 1:55 pm

An excerpt from one of my fanfics, modified to be... er, not-pony:


I believe it would be best to start by explaining how I came to be what I am. When I was young, barely a child, there was an incident with an older boy who thought I would be an easy target. He came after me, intending to beat me and steal what few possessions I had. Being young, I was afraid. He was larger than me, much stronger and a better fighter. I was faster, however, and smarter. I used this to my advantage, and I ran away. He chased me, but he was unable to catch me at first. He refused to give up, and eventually I found myself taking a wrong turn. I had turned down a dead end, with no way to escape. He followed me, and his laugh when he realised he had caught me is something that has haunted my dreams ever since.

That day was the first time I felt true fear. Not the unease of a horror novel, not the adrenaline shock of a long fall, but a true bone deep terror for my life. Such an emotion does interesting things to a person. It puts pressure on you, both mentally and physically. Your mind begins to race through every option, possible and impossible. Your body tightens, your breath quickens, and your heart begins to beat a steady allegrissimo tempo. If you are weak, it will break you. If you are strong, it will focus you. If you are strong, just when your fear hits its very peak, it disappears. Your mind has now chosen a path, your muscles relax to allow you faster movement, your need for air lessens, and your heart falls back in to its regular rhythm.

I was strong. I chose to fight. I refused to allow this pezzo di merda to control me. Taking the initiative, I rushed him. I surprised him, he had watched me run and thought me a coward. He was unable to react in time, and so I knocked him down and kicked him in the throat. I felt his windpipe collapse under my bare feet; I heard the crunch as I cut off his only method of bringing oxygen in to his body. I saw the same fear I had felt moments before staring back at me through his eyes. I felt sick, but at the same time I felt an immense satisfaction. I left him there to die, and began the long walk home.

Before I walked through those doors however, the dead boy’s friends found me. They had found his body, and they had guessed what I had done. They surrounded me, and they beat me to within an inch of my life. I had no way of fighting back, I was outnumbered five to one, and they were all better fighters. The last thing I remember is looking up to see a booted foot coming towards my face.

I woke up hours later in a hospital. My parents were not there, but I had expected this; they were not known to be the most loving family a foal could have. What I had not expected to see was King Sol, staring at me with eyes that spoke of both punishment and pity. Seeing that I had awoken, he spoke to me. I fail to remember exactly what it is he said, but I can paraphrase it.

“Young one, I fear you do not understand what it is you have done. You have murdered a fellow citizen of my kingdom, and even though I know that it was in self defence it is still a terrible crime. The boys that beat you have been arrested, and they will be punished for their act of vigilantism, but I cannot find it in my heart to punish you. You have done evil, but I see no evil in your heart. If your parents allow it, you will come with me to the palace, and you shall live there. You will be removed from this place so that no others may come to you for revenge.”

I told him then of my parents. I told him how they neglected me, how I survived on my own even though I was still in their house. I told him of my father’s drinking and gambling, and of my mother’s constant abuse. I explained how they would not care where I was, and I invited him to go to my home and see those facts for himself. His eyes turned dark, as close to anger as I have ever seen the King. He told me to wait in the hospital, and that he would return before the hour ended.

True to his word, he returned less than thirty minutes later. He informed that he had spoken to my parents, and that they had given their consent for me to travel to Canterlot. I could see it in his posture that he was saddened. He had confirmed that everything I told him was true. He called a chariot for the two of us, and throughout the journey I do not believe he ever once let his arm leave my side.

He asked me many questions during that flight, everything from my name to my schooling. With every answer he held me tighter, though at the time I did not understand why. At length, we arrived at the palace. As the chariot ascended the short road to the gates, my heart fell. I felt my time with the King had been all too short. For the first time in my short life, I had felt cared for. With the hope only a child’s heart can hold, I begged him not to leave me alone again. I begged him to, at the very least, allow me to serve him. He smiled at me, and patiently explained to me that I was too young to think of such things yet. He made a promise, however, that when I came of age he would gladly accept my services if I still wished to give them.

Instead of calling a servant to guide me to my room, he personally led me there. He opened the door, and with that simple action he cemented in my mind that my life was about to change. In my old home, a small closet served as my only living space. In front of me now was a single room that was larger and more radiant than anything that I dared hope to see. I turned to him and asked where the others were, and as he looked at me with confusion I explained that surely such a room could not be for a single boy. He smiled at me again, and told me that this was room was indeed for me alone. Beyond that, he showed me that there were two more interconnected rooms as well. One, he explained, was for a servant that would be my own for as long as I wished to stay in the palace. The other was a washroom, complete with the most luxurious bath I had ever seen.

He called for the servant that was assigned to me, and introduced me to him. He was an old man from the lands far to the south, an unusual sight for a boy as young as I was. His name was Cleansing Step. He had a very gentle demeanour, and I felt that I would grow to like him. I was informed that I would begin attending a private school, both to learn the arts and sciences and to receive physical training for the sake of my health. The King then told me that he had duties to attend to, and so I said my goodbyes, thanking him profusely for what he had done for me. It was humbling to have a figure that so many revere as a god go out of his own way for you, a small boy who had never known a loving home. He smiled at me for a third time, assured me that it was his duty as ruler of his kingdom, and left.

Cleansing Step then began to teach me the ways of the palace. He explained to me, an awestruck child, where I was and was not allowed to go. He told me what exactly it meant to have a servant, and what his own duties were. For my part, I was told only to enjoy my stay until I was placed in school. From that point, I would be expected to study diligently and perform to the best of my ability.

I thanked him for his exposition, and asked him if he could perhaps bring me some food for I had not eaten yet that day. With a small salute, he went off to bring me what I had asked for. As soon as he left, I climbed on to the gigantic bed that was now my own, and I cried. I hung my head and wept in sorrow for the life I had taken, I raised my face to ceiling and allowed tears of joy to run down my face for the new life I now had, and finally I lay down and thanked the boy I had killed. I gave thanks to his memory, for even though he did not know it at the time he had traded his life in exchange for giving me a life to live.

That day taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten.

Respect the dead for their sacrifices, no matter they have done. In death, all souls have a chance to redeem themselves.


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We'll not rest until the purge is complete
You will reap what you've sown.


TeaEarlGreyHot
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24 Nov 2012, 12:33 am

Battle In Shadows


We stare each other down
Wary
Waiting for the other
Understanding
But never comprehending
We each walk away
Only to look back

Weariness invading
Speaking all
But the truth inside
Hidden in shadows
The dance that tires
Push and pull

Bleeding alone
Baring scars
For all to see
If they knew
What angle to stand

Warrriors dressed
Ready for
The battle
That never comes

Standing tall
Pride a barrier
Unmovable

Decay within
As we push along
Each knowing
Seeing disaster
As it looms on the horizon
Ignored
As it grows
ever persistent


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verlorenModus
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12 Dec 2012, 6:36 am

Awakening

In that time
I was tinder
Dry and brittle
Waiting for a spark
And when it came
I blazed
In a holocaust of rage
I achieved escape velocity
To find myself alone
In the void
Burning up my soul to survive
And now i am spent
Cooling coals under a blanket of ash
Waiting for tinder

-LaShell Cherrie- 7/11/10



MakaylaTheAspie
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13 Dec 2012, 1:16 pm

Part of the novel I'm writing. I took it from an awkward starting place, but I don't have any other part typed up.

"How much did Suki tell you?"

"She told me that you went through some terrible things," Tren said. He scooted closer to Allen and put a brotherly arm over his shoulders. "Things that a young boy like you should never have to go through."

"I don't know where to begin."

Tren gave him an encouraging look. "You can start by telling me where your sister is."

"She's dead." Allen said bluntly.

"How?"

"Killed, in a lab accident."

Tren ruffled Allen's hair, but noticed something under his shaggy blonde bangs. He lifted them up, revealing a nasty looking scar that ran across his entire forehead. It looked like a stretched out letter z.

"What the hell?"

"I was beaten a lot. I have worse, physically... and mentally."

"How did you get this? It looks like it was painful."

Allen sighed, his eyes darkening. "I... I was, well, uh..."

"Does this have to do with what happened earlier?"

Allen nodded.

"They really messed you up, didn't they?"

"They were allowed to do it. I wasn't considered legitimate, then."

"Do you have any other scars you can show me?" Tren asked.

Allen scooted closer to Tren. "I want you to see for yourself." He held his right arm out.

Tren rolled up his sleeve, dropping Allen's arn the second it went past his wrist. Several scars were visible from Allen's wrist to what was exposed of his forearm. Allen continued to roll up his right sleeve until it reached his shoulder. Scars littered every patch of skin Tren looked at.

"Most of these are self inflicted," Allen told him. "That one-" he pointed to a fresh scar, still a little bit pink, "-was the last one I got before I ran away. One of the head doctors was trying to slice me open without sedating me. I got my arm out of the binds just in time."

"What's this?" Tren asked, gently touching a glowing red mark on Allen's shoulder.

"You know how computers have USB ports?"

Tren nodded.

"This is pretty much the same thing." A small smile appeared on Allen's face. "Wanna see it activated?"

"Sure."

Allen closed his eyes. The red mark was glowing brighter and brighter, with more intensity. Tiny geometric lines began to move away from the mark, spreading all over his body. It stopped on his face, woven like a geometric spider web. Allen opened his eyes, which were glowing blue and green. His irises were pixilated in appearance.

"It didn't use to be this big," Allen told Tren. His voice, although retaining personality, sounded like it was computer generated. "A few years ago, it was just on my arm."

Amazed, Tren ruffled Allen's hair, a few strands were glowing as well. "Wow."

Allen made all the lines retract back to the glowing mark, and his eyes dimmed back to their deep blue. The mark flashed brightly one more time, and dimmed back to the way it was before.

"I'll admit," Tren said, still amazed. "That was pretty cool."


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BrandonSP
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13 Dec 2012, 2:34 pm

Short historical fantasy:

Quote:
Hatshepsut crunched onto the sand flooring the arena with her sandals. Trumpets blared and the spectators roared all around her from their terraced seating. The summer day's warmth may have glazed her dark brown skin with perspiration, but her flesh underneath chilled like a desert night. Her own Egyptian people mingled with Britons and Macedonians in the mottled audience, and they chanted her name the loudest. As their Pharaoh, a goddess as well as ruler, Hatshepsut could not fail them. Her dynasty’s future, and thus the future of all Egypt, lay at stake today.

She tightened her damp hands’ grip on her spear.

To Hatshepsut’s left a podium projected over the arena from the side terraces. Atop it sat Alexander of Macedon, whose bronze breastplate and smooth, golden face glowed from the sunlight. He curved his mouth into a smile while gazing down at Hatshepsut with his amber eyes. Her heart drummed. One only needed a single glance at Alexander to see why women all over the world swooned upon his name’s mere mention. No other man that ever lived would better complement a Pharaoh like Hatshepsut.

The trumpets blared again.

Alexander turned his head away from Hatshepsut. “And now, from the emerald forests of the distant north, comes Queen Boudicca of the Britons!” His voice bounced off the arena walls despite its soft quality.

This time the Britons took their turn to cheer. They stamped their feet and brandished their fists above their head as they hooted for their Queen. Hatshepsut pressed her spear against to her body. From the opposite side of the arena Boudicca, who tilted her white and blue face up, strutted towards her.

The Queen of the Britons must have towered at least one head taller than the Pharaoh. Her arm muscles, bigger than those of most men, bulged underneath her tunic’s sleeves. Behind her Boudicca dragged a sledgehammer with both arms. Human skulls with cracked domes mounted her breastplate’s pectorals.

“Are those skulls real?” Hatshepsut asked. Although she kept her glowering expression to feign bravery, her legs still wobbled.

Boudicca showed her teeth in her smirk. “I have many more at home. Yours shall join them soon!” She stroked her left hand back over her fiery mane. “I wonder what your people’s hair feels like?”

Hatshepsut removed her crown to show the peppercorn tufts on her scalp. “Alas for you, I shaved my hair off recently. It has only begun to grow back. Anyway, at least it never reeks of lime like yours!” She wrinkled her nose and grimaced.

The Egyptian spectators’ guffaws joined the Britons’ boos into a dissonant din. Boudicca dropped her jaw for a gasp, her face’s skin flushing red.

“If I stank so badly, Alexander wouldn’t even consider me, would he?” she said. “Admit it, skinny b***h, a strong man like him needs a strong woman at his side!”

“Oh, does he? You may have much in the way of brute strength, O Boudicca of the Britons, but real men like their women graceful and
intelligent.” The Pharaoh swept an arm upward to tap onto her head with one finger. “And by the way, I’m not as skinny as I look in front. Have you ever seen me from behind?” She swished her hips sideways, bringing out snickers from the spectators.

Boudicca raised her hammer in front of her face with both hands. “Wisecrack one more time and I’ll have that juicy rump for dinner!”

“Both of you, behave!” Alexander slapped his hands together. “The game begins when I say it begins. Right now I need to go over one little rule. Namely, if any combatant wishes to surrender, she shall cast her weapon aside and shout it out. Otherwise the fight goes down to the death! Either way, I shall take the victor as my bride.”

Again the audience clamored with cheers, boos, and taunts. Boudicca waved her hammer over her head and hooted back at her supporters all around the arena.

Hatshepsut crossed her arms and snorted. “You really think you’re going to win, don’t you?”

Boudicca leaned forward until her forehead touched Hatshepsut’s and cackled behind a grin. “You know I will.” Hatshepsut loosened her brows’ furrow and stepped back, her veins icing up again.

Alexander jolted up from his seat and banged his fists together. “All right, this contest of regal combat shall begin now. Both of you lovely ladies…FIGHT!” The trumpets went off a third time.

With a roar, the Queen of the Britons swung her hammer sideward until it crashed into Hatshepsut’s cuirass. The impact knocked the Pharaoh off her feet and threw her across the arena. Once she landed, her body scraped against the sand before stopping. Although the cuirass’s dent dug into Hatshepsut’s skin, thankfully Boudicca’s first blow did not break any ribs.

The spear Hatshepsut dropped lay on the ground between her and Boudicca. The Queen of the Britons swaggered to the spear and raised her hammer overhead. “This has proven even easier than I expected!” she said with a cackle.

The Egyptian sprang off the ground, grabbed the spear by its butt, and swiped it away from Boudicca. When Boudicca sent her hammer downward, it pounded onto empty ground that vibrated.

Hatshepsut laughed back at her adversary. Boudicca growled and stormed towards the Pharaoh with hammer drawn back to her flank. When the Briton came within a yard away from her, Hatshepsut shot herself up into the air and rammed a foot into Boudicca’s jaw. She then wheeled her body backward and landed on all fours, catlike. The Egyptian people hollered out Hatshepsut’s name with clapping.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “There’s more of that coming!”

“Oh, really?” Boudicca spat blood onto the nape of Hatshepsut’s neck and hammered her cuirass’s other side in one swing. This time the Pharaoh’s body slammed into the arena’s wall and plummeted face-first onto the floor. If the cuirass’s bronze had not pierced through her flank before, surely it did now. For that matter every muscle in Hatshepsut’s body throbbed with so much pain that she could not move a limb.

Boudicca’s cackle pierced the Egyptian’s eardrums. “And so the famed Queen of the Nile falls before raw British strength! Not that I expected a puny n****r like you to put up much of a fight anyway. Alexander’s hand is mine!”

Hatshepsut did not budge, instead letting her breath fade into silence. Boudicca stretched an arm upward to brandish her hammer and roar out the Britons’ war cry. The British spectators exploded into a din of cheers and stamping feet, with some even bouncing off their seats in joy.

“Congratulations, Boudicca of the Britons,” Alexander said with a sigh. “People of Macedon, I guess I have finally found my bride. May the gods bless this marriage and bring our countries together for once.”

The Pharaoh pulled the corner of her mouth up into a smile. “No one calls me a n****r!” Hatshepsut snatched her spear, jumped back up, and chucked it into the back of Boudicca’s skull. The Queen of the Britons did not even scream as she collapsed onto her breastplate. All of the spectators gasped in gusts.

Alexander blinked several times. “Did you just feign your death in order to catch the Briton off guard?”

Hatshepsut lowered her head in shame. “Would that count as cheating?”

The King of Macedon beamed with his pearly teeth sparkling. “Far from it, it demonstrates a cunning that most women or men would envy. Truth be told I knew your intelligence would win in the end, Hatshepsut. Besides, you have a much finer rump than Boudicca.”

He tossed a twinkling gold object from his podium down into the Pharaoh’s hands. It was a ring encrusted with diamonds. Hatshepsut quivered even more than she had before, but not with fear or anxiety.

“People of Macedon, now I really have found my bride, the woman of my dreams,” Alexander said. “May the gods bless our marriage and our countries together!”

Even though the spectators’ gleeful uproar drowned out all other sound in the world, Hatshepsut felt too choked up to speak. Now she and Alexander could embrace either other and produce the heirs they needed.


_________________
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Fight_for_Autism
Emu Egg
Emu Egg

User avatar

Joined: 12 Dec 2012
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Posts: 3
Location: Charlevoix, Michigan

13 Dec 2012, 5:19 pm

My anti-bully poem, written with experience.

Learn From My Pain
(Anti-Bully Poem)
By Ian Weller

You had another rough day.
Those bullies came back.

Before you leave
Listen carefully to me.

Listen to what a survivor
Of you kind of situation
Has learned from experience.

Listen and learn
From my story.
Learn from my mistakes.

First,
Tell a teacher
Or the principal
What’s happening.

I never did.
I hoped
They would go away.
They didn’t leave me alone.

For two long years
I had to put up
With fools
Who got kicks from
My bursts of rage.

Of course that was
Before my freshman year
Of high school.
Once I was there,
I had a guardian
In my older brother.
Even though I had
Someone who would
Help me;
Be on my side
When trouble came.

The damage
Was done.
The scars were made
And remain still.

Even after all these years
I hold a grudge against people
And they woke a dark voice.

Even with all the medicine I take
The dark voice still whispers to me.

Now that you heard my story,
Try to do what I could not.



SaintHuck
Hummingbird
Hummingbird

User avatar

Joined: 14 Dec 2012
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Posts: 21

15 Dec 2012, 2:25 pm

Fortress New York

We Purchased a Billboard Dream
Repackaged, Resold
To Manufacture Cyborg Being

Stainless Glass, Globalized Trash
Trump Tower, Corporate Power
New Veil of a Bronze Camera Flash
The Ragged, The Weary, The Woeful
Filed, Reviled, Exiled

Wraiths, Translucent, Starving
Tattered Souls
Mussulmen of
The
Never Ending
Always Changing
Trail
Showered by Bulky Blue Hail

Behold, this Eastern Fortress
Sinking Battleship of Totalitarian Geometry
Pluto with a Silicon Sea
All Possibilities, a 2.25 Fee
Lens Barrel Shoots Nothing Amiss
Advertising Eyes, Nothing to See
Except Disney
then Sidney
To this Twisted Neon Dream
and Our Oligarch King
Hail! Hail!