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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Tom25/Male/United States Group :iconthewriterscraft: TheWritersCraft
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Just One More by Skysofdreams

Allow me to write the critique by following the criteria you left for me. Whats the first thing you notice?: I notice the way she's hol...

Eternity by RobinHedberg

Staring death in the face. A powerful image even among powerful images. I adore this picture. I love the lighting. I love the black and...


Skyward by THEendOmega
A snap. I didn't even realize there was a helicopter in the pic. lol
No better. No worse.
Pain is simply a feeling.
Life is our beloved curse.
Within our fate is sealing.

How beautiful it can be,
How dreadful it may go.
Its raindrops fall on me.
And in the sunlight I grow.

Planted by loving seeds,
We are a tender crop.
We have simple needs,
Our youth never stops.

It is as it will always be,
Forever a perfect sight.
No ill weather will see,
The ending of this light.

The shadows may crawl,
And the blood may run.
Yet perfect are we all,
who share a perfect sun.

All of the pain of what is,
Comes with a hidden store.
It is beauty, love and bliss.
Life is Life, and nothing more.
Just a musings on what I've felt about life.
Think about this very moment. Everything about it.
The good. The bad.

It is as it should be.

It cannot be better than it can be in this moment.
Every moment is the peak of what this moment may be.
And life is learning to deal with that.
Life is experiencing a flawed existence, full of unconventional perfection.
Every moment is not comparable. 
The previous moment may be better than the next. 
The current moment may be worse than the prior. 
But those moments could not be any better than that.
Your view on them can change. 
Your feelings can change. But not the moment.
Accept it. And allow yourself to think of things more graciously.
And everything, even pain, can become beautiful. 
The woods...

Of all his crimes... He weeps hardest for his mountain home.

"The great Yosemite Wildfire has finally been put out, but at a cost. There are a reported four deaths. A hunter and three firemen. The President has called for a moment of silence and remembrance for those lost. The memorial will be held in Helena, Montana this Sunday, at eleven in the morning-"

Seattle once again...
Silas finds himself in the rainy city. He leaves on the beach, nearby.
It's a place he can run to if he should.... lose himself.

Those poor, poor people...

Silas looked down at his water. It was in a glass. It had been years since he drank from a glass.

The sound of Sirius's lapping tongue at the creek back at their home was something he wished he could hear again. But he can't.

Sirius is gone.

Silas walked slowly up the street. To her. To his Anna.

He knocked on the door calmly.

"I'm sorry...I was looking for Anna." He spoke to the man, holding a very young boy who answered the door.

"I'll call her. Honey! Someone's at the door!"

His eyes shot to the boy.

He found himself welling up.

She had herself a son.

Anna came to the door. "Silas?"

Words... She speaks!
She speaks again!
His eyes burned with tears.
She must truly be happy now... She must have finally moved on... Onward and upward.

Silas was so happy to hear her soft, delicate voice.

She leaned in. "Is that you?!"

He nodded slowly and forced a smile. "I just wanted to say hello."

"Please...Come in!"

He shook his head. "I can't. I really have to go."


"I just needed to see you."

She wiped her eyes, "You're going. Aren't you?"

He nodded. "Slowly but surely."

"I want you to meet my family." She pulled him by the shirt.

"This is Eric. My husband."

The man smiled warmly and shook his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. Anna's told me all about you."

He smiled courteously. "Nice to meet you too Eric."

She gestured to her son. "And this is....My son. Silas."

He crouched over with a heavy grunt and said hello to the little boy. "What's your name."

"That is his name."

He looked up to her. Then to the boy.

She smiled, "I wanted to name him after someone, without whom, I would never have found the light of joy in the darkness I was living in."

Silas heaved himself up. He ignored how much his body hurt.

"All I have ever done was dream about you. In all my years...Wandering...lonliness... I thought I'd be sad to say goodbye to you..."

"You're not?" She tilted her head and sat with her son.

"No. Because despite all of my struggles. Seeing you find happiness... Is my light in the dark."

He went back down onto his knees and pulled a thin rope necklace off his neck. "I made this a long time ago. I made one for me, and another for a very good friend of mine. It's a reminder. There's always something nice. Always something beautiful in even the ugly places. No matter how hard things can be... Dedicate yourself to those good things that make you happy." He looked up to the boy's mother.

"Because even when they're a world away...They'll keep you smiling."

He stood up and coughed. Eric helped him up.  "Thank you..."

He looked to the man. "Take care of her. Never let her cry. Never let her dreams haunt her. And on her birthday, she likes lemon cakes." Silas wiped his eyes, "And balloons. Lots and lots of balloons."

He choked up on his words a bit. "And when fireworks go off. Be sure to hold her close. And remind her not to be afraid."

Anna let some tears fall from her face and nodded, "You remembered."

Silas looked at her and smiled, "How could I ever forget?"

He approached Anna, and kissed her gently on the cheek. His beard tickled her cheek and she smiled through her tears. He handed her a few envelopes and said, "Please. Mail these for me?"

She wiped her cheek and nodded. He smiled and said, "I never stopped loving you. Goodbye, Anna."

"Goodbye, Silas."

And with that. He was gone.

Silas walked the beach for hours.

So long.

And he sat down beside a nice big rock. There was a little lean-to up in the rocks.

He sat down and pulled his coat off, to let the nice cool ocean air hit his body.

He pulled the bandages off his shoulder..

The bullet wound was seriously infected.

But he had to take care of his good friend.

He opened a bag of dog treats and cooked sausages and left it in a pile for Sirius to feast.

He pat his friend on the head and ran a finger along the rope collar he had made, "You're going to be okay... Be happy. Never stop being you."

Sirius looked at him. "Goodbye, Firestarter."


Silas succumbed to the infection and his heart slowed to a dead stop.

The next day, the letters arrived.

One led a conservationist group to the beach to bring Sirius to a local wolf sanctuary.

One for each of those whose lives he destroyed. Apologizing. Begging for forgiveness.

One for his family, which may or may not ever be read.

And one that came back around to Anna. One telling her his story.

Anna read it and kissed it gently, leaving a pink lipstick mark there.

"Silas, do not be afraid. I'm here. I'm here."

His obituary was not read by many.
His epitaph was not carved deep into the granite.
His body is only visited by one person.


You live forever in the fire of our hearts.
In our cold lives, you're keeping us all warm.
I love you.
Rest in Peace, Finally. Rest in Peace..

A word, on Valentines Day. It's a long post, so if you'd rather not, it's cool. You don't have to read it. It's just me thinking too long about things during a late-late night. Insomnia can turn even the most tired brains into the minds of philosophers, doomed by thought, to never sleep.

So here it is. I hope you find it meaningful.


Today is a bittersweet day for me and my family. And not for the reason most people find today to be bittersweet. I lost someone very important to me on a particularly bleak Valentine's Day several years back. He was a father figure to me when my own father couldn't be bothered. But in spite of this, I'm feeling good today. I am sincerely trying to enjoy today's holiday.

And I hope you all can manage to have a fantastic Valentine's Day.

Love finds a way to make things better. It doesn't have to be the love between two people. It can be between a person and a pet. Or a passion. If you love something, today is the day to celebrate it. Love isn't something that is specifically for those in relationships. It's in everyone, is everywhere. I love my family, my friends and my beautiful Brittany​.

But I also love animals, the internet, coffee, a hearty breakfast, bacon, videogames, sports, literature, art, music, traveling, photography, comics, films, and a million more little things.
I love the bite of a cold breeze on the air.
I love the feeling of burning-hot sand at the beach,
and the look of leaves in a New England October.

I love the way that words can paint a picture,
and that a brushstroke and paint can tell a story.

I love the look on the face of someone when the music I'm listening to
is something they know and love too,
and the look of people who think
"Oh god...what the hell is that?!"
when I listen to some heavy metal.
I love the sound of a bent note on a harmonica,
The twang of a banjo, the wail of bagpipes, the scream of a guitar.
I love the thud of a bass drum,

and the heavy, heart-shaking, POUNDING of
Native-American leather drums,
with those wailing chanting singers
setting the air ablaze with spiritual feeling.

Love the sound of a crowd roaring when the Sox win,
walk-off fashion in the bottom of the ninth.
I love the feeling of watching the Pats, Bruins or Celts
making that last-second, game-winning effort.

I love the sound of clacking keys on a computer,
particularly when the words just flow out
and create a wonderful piece of story.
I love the laughter that comes from a silly bug
in a game my friends and I are playing.
I love the sound of someone laughing,
and the smile on the face of the person next to that person,
who can't help but smirk, trying not to look like they're listening in.

I love getting the window seat on the bus,
and surrendering that seat
when I feel like I want to bus-surf
like we did back in gradeschool.

I love the smell of crayons...
the taste of a leftover chunk of icing once a birthday cake is finished...
the feeling of fine sandpaper on a plank of smooth pine wood...
the look of an untouched snowy field...
and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind when I'm all alone,
sitting by the lake.

Love isn't something that belongs to couples.
It's not even something that belongs to family and friends.

It is everywhere. With everyone. And at times, with everything.

Today isn't just a day to feel bitter. So I'm going to try and live life the way that I know he would want me to. And on some level, I think he'd want us all to reserve it similarly.

I never put much merit into a commercialized day where if you don't spend a huge amount of money on a valentine's date, you failed the holiday. I still don't put much merit into that aspect. But upon a long night of self-reflection last night, I figured that there's a philosophy to be developed here. It's a holiday to celebrate love. Not a holiday of bad romance movies forcing upon the populous this desire for ingenuine chocolate-flavored affection, wrapped up in diamond-encrusted heart-shaped-boxes.

Love isn't about that.

Love is a lifetime experience.

Love is finding someone, something, or somewhere that makes you genuinely happy to the extent where life as we know it is different now, after having experienced it. Where things can't go back. It's a moment. It's over quickly, and lasts forever at the same time. It's strange, but common. It's powerful, but so brittle. It's everywhere, and somehow cannot be found.

Celebrate love your own way.
Not just today, but every day.

So, I'll just leave it here. No more needs to be said.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone.
Keep on loving.
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language)
Days? What are days? The lights never change in this god forsaken room.  There’s no windows to tell the night from the day. This gray, silent room is so small, yet seemingly vast and empty. Four walls, a floor, a ceiling and one single door is all around me, and they’re all gray. There’s a phone on the wall, but it provides no color. It’s the same gray as the rest of the room.

Toilet and sink? Gray…
The little cot in the corner? Gray…

Gray, gray, gray…

I’d kill to see something other than gray, kill to hear something other than the humming of the fluorescent light above me. My voice is gone. I am mute. I want to speak, but I can’t. I want to scream, but nothing  comes out.

Gray, gray, gray…

The phone rings once every long while, and it is the most beautiful sound. Shrill and wailing, and when I pick the phone up, I can hear again. But I am still mute. Mute… They can talk, but I can’t. They can ask me questions, but I cannot answer them. Why can’t I answer them? I could before!

Before I got locked up in here…

Why? What did I do to deserve this?!

The phone rings. I practically run to the phone.  My foot nearly breaks on the wall.

She sounds so calm. “Hey honey. How are you? You’re okay, right? I wish you could answer. I wish there was something more they could do, so we can talk… But it’s okay. We will be okay. You’ll come out of there someday, and be back here. I’ll take you home, and everything will be like it used to be.”

I want that so badly. I want to come home. I don’t remember what she looks like anymore…

Gray, gray, gray…

The second the phone cuts out, she’s never finished with a sentence. There’s always something I miss…

“I’m so –“ Click…  Nothing… Silence….Humming from that fucking light…

I let the phone hang by the cord, hoping for some sound, some sort of busy tone. But nothing ever comes.

The cot is stiff. I can’t seem to get comfortable when I sleep. I feel like my back is on fire when I sleep too long, and my breathing is harsh when I lay any other way. The toilet is dry, and makes no sound. The sink barely drips. Every so often, another drop will fall and I’ll feel satisfied for now. Food comes as slowly, but it seems to do the trick. It’s some tasteless fluid. If I could describe the taste... it would be

It rings again. Who knows after how long…but that sweet sound has never sounded more beautiful.
“Hey honey. I feel guilty for not talking to you for a while… I missed a few trips. I hope you’ll forgive me… I’ve been….Busy. Work and all… But I promise I’ll come talk as often as I can. It hurts sometimes… To know you’re right there, but still somehow so far away… That I could sit just feet from you, but you can’t see me… Sometimes I wonder if you could hear me in there. Can you?”

She’s on the other side of the wall. I know she’s there. But I can’t think of what she looks like… It’s like she’s being erased… She says it’s been so long…but I can’t tell. She says she’s sorry, but for what?!

She’s here! She’s so close!

My body is pressed against the door, I weep for her.

“I have to—“ And it cuts out…



…Why does it cut out… Why does it always cut out?!

What are weeks?

Nothing matters anymore but that phone ringing. I want it to ring. Please ring…

Please ring… Please Ring! PLEASE RING!!!

It never does…

How long have I been here?

Now that I think about it? I think I’m starting to forget what happened to get me in here…

I remember men dragging me. I remember they stuck me with a needle and threw me onto some cart. I wanted out, I wanted to run, but I remember them strapping me down and demanding that I stop resisting… But I had to fight for her. I had to escape to see her again.

She’s so lovely… But I can’t remember her face.

Oh god…I can’t remember her name…

I mourn her.

She is still there somewhere beyond these walls, but her name, her face….

What color were her eyes again? Blue? Brown? Maybe Green?

And her hair!

I remember that…Right?

It was….sh….long? No….


What’s happening to me?

Is it the food? Is it the water?

What are these fuckers doing to me?!

And why is everything so FUCKING GRAY!




I flip the cot, and break the legs, smashing them against the door. I stomp on the toilet, but can’t manage to break it. But before I can do any more damage, everything goes dark.

“Calm down…” someone’s voice called out.

One of them...
One of the bastards keeping me here.

What did they just do to me?!

Why can’t I move?!

Why can’t…I ………think……?


It rings.


I wake up from my cot and run to the corner and answer.

“After…your episode…”

She sounds…sad?

“I realized…I’m not sure if I can keep doing this… I’m not sure if I can keep this up anymore… You’re stuck…And I can’t help you. But you did this to yourself… And they say you might never come out now…after what happened…”



“I met some—“  

It cut out.


Oh god, no…

Please, come back…


Don’t leave me alone in here… Don’t leave me… Marcy….


I remember you! Please! Please call!



Oh god please come back, Marcy….

I remember….

I remember your gorgeous brown hair, and your pretty green eyes…. Please come back!




Why are you leaving me…..FUCK! What is her name again?!


I had it…

I…I knew it….

Please, Come back to me….Remind me….

She’s gone… She’s gone…And I’m alone…

And everything is fucking GRAY!

Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I just go home… Why can’t I just find her again?!

She’s…all I had…She’s all I was…

Why did she say she was leaving? Why did they say I’d never get out? Why won’t they set me free?

Why why why why why why why why why why….Why am I alive?

I bash my head into the wall.

Again…It wasn’t hard enough.



Am I bleeding?!

Please tell me I’m bleeding.

I need something with color….Red would be so beautiful…




YES! It’s RED!

YES!!! Oh god it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!

How long have I gone without seeing color!?

How long has it been?!

I need more of this!

More color….

…More red….

No, not black. No…..

How long have I been here?

How long since the red stopped coming out?

It rings…

I can barely muster the strength to get it, but I manage…

It’s….It’s not her….

“You’re lucky to be alive. She came in to see you…And when she saw what happened…What you looked like…I’m sorry, she couldn’t stay. We were worried she’d rile you up again…since…it was her visit that caused your little episode last time. She blames herself, but we promised her that it was just normal for someone in your circumstances.  But…I hate to be the one who says it…but you will likely not come out. You’re going to be stuck like this for the rest of your life. I’m sorry. And if you do…ever get out… I don’t know if you’re ready for what you’ll see. I don’t know if you’d be able to handle it. It’s---“




I don’t…

I give up…

That’s it… Isn’t it?

I’m done?

I’m going to die in this room…

I’m going to never get away from this fucking buzzing light, and this fucking gray room…

I’m going to be a rotting, gray corpse in a stagnant gray room. Robbed of life, robbed of her…

What have I done that was so bad to get locked up in here?

I… I give up…

Sweet death, give me your hand and let me die. Help me escape from this room… Help me…

Hollow eyes and humming from those lights…

What’s that?

My heart stopped?



NO! Don’t’ save me!

Please don’t!

Brilliant light and red…RED!

But….It’s not blood…It’s….My….


I can’t open them….

“That was close, Mr Carlyle. Wasn’t it.” The nurse spoke quietly. “Gave us a fright.”

“Why di yuh do thih?” Wait… I spoke?!

“You spoke!”


“Calm down, Mr Carlyle…Doctor! He’s awake!”

The bed was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t roll over.  Bedsores?

“Good morning Mr Carlyle… I’m Dr Rene Mueller, and I’m going to help your rehabilitation… Are you able to talk?”

I shook my head… I was so tired. The lights above me in the hospital room were buzzing, like the one in the room, but at least the ceiling was an eggshell white. The curtains in the room were a similar color, but outside… There was…Blue….and Green…. Sky and Treetops…

“Mr Carlyle…how about you blink? Blink once for yes, twice for no. Okay?”


“Do you know where you are?”

Blink, Blink.

“You’re in the hospital…do you know why?”

Blink, Blink.

“You were in a car accident… Your blood alcohol content was way too high. You hit a van. But you’re alive. That’s what counts. For the past six years, we’ve done whatever we can to keep you alive. And here you are. They said it would take a miracle to wake you up. Looks like all it took was an aneurism. Congratulations, Mr Carlyle. You cheated death… But I don’t want to excite you any more than I guess I have already… I have a letter here. It doesn’t say from whom… but we’ve been waiting to read it to you. Do you want me to read it?”



He exhaled, reading through it. “On second thought… I think it’s best you wait before you read this. Okay?”


“Don’t talk… Just trust me.”

The doctor sat back and looked to the side. “Rest up, Mr Carlyle. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Til then, try not to talk, don’t strain yourself.”

Sleep is no refuge…

I’ve traded one prison for another, but…This seems more real.

I was in the room for six years?

Why am I so thin?

Why am I so weak?

“Put her there.”

Eyes open, and see a new bed rolling in. “What happened to this one? Shit, the bruising is really bad.”

“Attempted suicide, cops found her hanging from a tree outside.”

“Do they think she’ll be here long?”

“She’s not expected to make the night. She’s completely brain dead…”

“Well…That sucks.”


The two orderlies left my neighbor and the light went off.

I pity her.

Death seems so shallow, compared to all the colors… Life is so full of color and so full of light. There’s sound, smells, sensations worth living for. Sensations that I took for granted for so long…so long…

I want to talk to her.

I want her to know that what she did, she did for her own reasons. But that she wasn’t alone.
I don’t even know if she’ll hear me. But coming to terms with life and death…I feel obligated somehow.

I can’t form the words properly…but I tried to tell her that life is beautiful, and to remember her life fondly. To think of every moment she had where she smiled. Think of when she saw all those people that were involved with her life, and maybe some who weren’t, and think of them fondly… Think of the birds, the trees, the ocean waves, and the cold of winter…. It is beautiful… It is colorful… Reds and blues, Greens…. Yellow, Purple, Orange….and yes…sometimes…Even Gray…  Treasure every memory of sound, of voices and language. I told her to treasure every breath she had the opportunity to breathe. I told her that I’d be with her until she went. Until she passed on.

The machines beeped…and I hummed a little song…something from some faint memory. I had no more words to offer the poor woman. And when the machines that kept her alive stopped running, when her body finally gave way… I thought about Marcy. And the letter that she left. The letter I so desperately wanted to read.

Dr Mueller came in and sighed, “Damn…”

I couldn’t turn my head, but I heard the blanket pulled over the poor woman’s head.

“Call it.”

The machines went silent.

“Patient: Marcy White, Time of Death: 3:45am, on December Fifth, 2021.”


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
A man...

On a mission....

To find a local cinnabon....


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Journal History


Add a Comment:
jemishiback Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2014  Student Filmographer
jemishiback Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2014  Student Filmographer
He was happy to talk to you
jemishiback Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2014  Student Filmographer
I saw many beautiful and unique things you
jemishiback Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2014  Student Filmographer
Hi guys, I jemishiback
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hello Jemishiback. 
Nice to meet you. 

Thank you for your comments. I see you're from Iran. Are you need to English? 
jemishiback Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2014  Student Filmographer
You're too kind
Thank you so much if you help me to help you if you need me I'll be done in
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. And I will be sure to find you if I need to. 

(1 Reply)
22Hussars Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you very much for the watch!
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No problem!
MattVoscinar Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you for becoming a member of #DA-Poetics. I hope you enjoy the group!
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No problem, I'm glad to have been invited :) 
ChariMud Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2013
Thank you for the comments, and watch, all that shizzle. I feel so special to be liked by an amazing artist!
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No biggie :D 


I'm less of an artist than most of the people on here. But thank you for the kind words :3

You're welcome for that shizzle too. 

s'all good
Skkon Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2013
Ohhhh my gosh I hit the random deviant button and came to your profile right? so I start scrolling down as the page loads and then I scroll back up and see your deviantID
Have a nice day.
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
hahaha well, hey, it did its job! :D

You have a good one!
Kiriphorito Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2013  Student General Artist
Thank you for the llama! :llama:
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Like :icontupacplz:.

its no :iconbiggiesmallsplz:.
Le-Rainbow-Wolf Featured By Owner May 13, 2013
Arza: here's what I'm trying to say,
"United we Stand, Divided we fall"
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Okay Benjamin.
Le-Rainbow-Wolf Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2013
Arza: ^^; sorry, just a lesson I've learned
THEendOmega Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
A good lesson
Le-Rainbow-Wolf Featured By Owner May 9, 2013
Windra: ...! Oh sh!t.... uhm, yeah, I've needed to apologize to all the sh!t I've done to you and the one who calls you her sister.... I've been a Tad Vengeful and I thought you were Bezzulbub.... seriously.. I'd understand if I was going to Hell for hurting you as I have.... I didn't mean it as it may said.... it in comparison is like How Gabriel tends to loose his mind sometimes... ^^; we need to talk more?
THEendOmega Featured By Owner May 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You've done nothing. As I said before. Fear not what presents no threat.

You don't bother me at all.
Le-Rainbow-Wolf Featured By Owner May 10, 2013
Windra: k, as a note, have you heard what's coming in the 577th turn? (44 billion years) I won't speak it, just think and write it, I know it's a cautious bisness)
THEendOmega Featured By Owner May 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Too cautious if you ask me. I've lost track, whose turn is it , yours and mine?
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: