|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
BelarusXRussia: Ole Hallow's Eve
(Author's note: As the title states, this is a BelarusXRussia fanfiction. If you do not like that pairing well do not read. You have been warned....)
I was walking along the streets in search of something to do. The Baltics were going Trick or Treating so I was all alone in the house. I decided to go out. Adjusting my scarf and putting on my hat, I set out into the frozen night air. The time was around 9:00 PM. Give or take a few minutes. When I came to sign I stopped to read it. It was the sign of the old graveyard. No one ever goes there. It is said that it is haunted by the soldiers of the past. I read the sign. Beware all who enter here. You are entering the gates to Hell. I laughed. Like I was afraid of some silly legends or some stupid sign.
I tightened my scarf and pushed open the giant metal gates. They made a spine tingling creaking noise.
As I walked in I started to hear strange things, like somethi
~2P!England and England: Opposites do not attract~
-----Opposites do not attract-------
I was reading the local paper, when I happened across an ad in the paper looking for a baker. I desperately needed a job since I got laid off at my other one for reasons I shan't explain. The person who was advertising was Arthur Kirkland. "Hmm. Where have I heard that name before?" Scratching my head I sat the paper down and took a sip of my tea. While I was drinking it, I turned my attention out to the giant window. It was covered with perspiration from the humidity and rain coming down from it outside.
When I finished my breakfast, I got dressed in my normal attire. A white long sleeved button down shirt, with a pink vest, blue bow and khaki pants. Don't question me poppit. Before I left, I put on my black leather trench coat and grabbed my resume I had made so many times before, my blue with pink polka-dotted umbrella, and headed out the door. I stopped at a stop sign and looked around me. I noticed it had
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
Keep in Touch!
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