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About Literature / Student Michael "Eventua" ClarkeMale/Malta Recent Activity
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Literature
Diamond Dust (Contest Entry)
The ground was cold, dark, and bleak - much like the face of the man who now lent against the old, crumbling cliff-side, on that windy, overcast Friday afternoon. Most would have found the wind biting, chilling to the bone, as the sun only barely poked out from the constant gloom of the clouds above. Not him. Never him. It was never cold enough for him.
The man breathed deeply through his nose, taking in the scents of salt and sand. He shuffled awkwardly in place - even as lonely and cold as it was, the place still felt too warm, too alive: after all, there were fish and shrimp in the sea, probably crabs under the sand, and the seaweed continued to grow. Seagulls flew in the air, making their nests in the many coves and holes in the side of the cliff, and filling the air with a dreadful racket. His head felt like it was slowly being filled with jackhammers, thanks to their constant squawking. It was painful and noisy enough when the voice was in his head, the least he cou
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Literature
The Dressmaker's Hope
It was quite a cold morning on that early October Monday, but the people in the town of Trethgelvin just took it in their stride: they were a hardy bunch, and most of them had a tendency to just knuckle down and ‘get the job done’, even when things didn’t go as planned.
 
It was on that morning that a young woman by the name of Mary was busily stitching on buttons. She sat in front of a small table with a sewing machine, and she made dresses using the materials they gave her in a large cardboard box.
 
The dresses had to be identical. The materials, identical. The time taken, identical. Of course, not everyone was making the same dress: but she had been given a design, and it was her job to churn out as many as she could that day.
 
The clock struck 12, and she breathed a sigh of relief: this was her chance! It was lunch for most, but she was going to be spending some of her lunch break talking with Mr Engle. She had tried arranging an appointmen
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Amentia, drawn by Egophiliac by Eventua Amentia, drawn by Egophiliac :iconeventua:Eventua 1 3
Literature
The Falling Of The Leaves
The falling of the leaves was a good time, once.
It hasn't got the warmth of the rising of the sun and there's more rain, but the leaves are gentle and the trees turn all kinds of shades of brown. I see the people sometimes wear their big coats, and the little people start going to far away buildings.
I remember the one time I was taken to the far away building, the 'school'. I don't know what they said about me, but they all seemed happy to see me and there was warmth and food, so it must have been pretty good.
I would come home from outside when it used to get wet. The fire was on, and the people were happy.
I don't know why they stopped letting me in.
The great machines came and went, and all of the things and people went with them. So now the home is empty, on a little street.
I waited outside, but they couldn't hear me. Too far away, I think.
No one else seemed to care or come, so I lived as I could. Caught rats and mice and birds, annoying little things. No one was there for me t
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Literature
A Dream I Had
I wander through a city on the clouds.
It is an ancient place, and a mystery. I don't know who built it, or why, but whenever I get the chance, I wander through it.
It is filled with relics and idols of ancient civilizations, depictions of heroes and gods and legends, and the people who told those stories are long dead - in many ways, this is the closest thing that remains of their memory. Maybe that's why I feel it matters?
Regardless, I wander this place. It is incredibly vast: buildings of every design and every epoch of history can be found, a style of architecture that I can only call 'Human'.
My wanderings are disturbed by something, though.
Food. I'm hungry.
I make my way to the kitchens, a lengthy series of individually smaller rooms, where a pair of very strange men approach me.
"Hey, Michael, how're you doing?!" asks Jon, a hairy guy with a beard that you could scrub plates with.
"I'm okay, Jon."
The other man is quieter, before his face screws up into an expression that's so
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Literature
The Lonely Young Boy
The lonely young boy sits with the air, on a bench made of stories in a park full of dreams.
What does he think of?
A time when he had friends and chances, who weren't just phantasms.
And where will he go?
To the corner of his room, in a house made of bricks and vanishing moments.
Just who will he live for?
No one at all.
Then why will he live?
Because there's only two options, and the other is worse.
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Literature
I am trapped and there isn't much room
I woke up in a strange, empty room with no idea of how I got there or for what reason. Was I abandoned? Where had I been before? I had no memory of my past, and no way to find the answer.
It was a small room, rounded at the edges, painted blue and green and brown... quite pretty, I must confess.
As I sit here and occasionally look around, I see that the lights flicker at a regular basis - there's a single light bulb, very bright, that seems to be attached to the ceiling by some sort of rail. It moves across the ceiling, fades away, then returns later on the other side of the room, and brightens up again, on a cycle...
I spend a lot of time in that room. Bored and curious, I look closely at the patterns. They seem to flow into each other, and when I look closely I can see they behave almost like living things. They're so pretty... and now I'm feeling hungry. It's been so long since I ate... maybe just a few of the tiny living things?
They are so small, and so weak. Occasionally one of t
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Literature
The Strange Man (Chapter 01)
Leviathan Rising
There was a chill in the air, despite the sunshine. The sunken ruins of the old, outer city rested, as a creature as old as the history of man drifted through the currents, past the wreckage - its sleek, silvery form was in contrast to the rusting, soggy remains of the long ago flooded buildings and roads. The alien, fish-like form moved quietly and with speed, at home in the water, as if this were its purpose. Alas, it was lost, and alone, desperate to find something it deeply needed - nearby, close... under the city, perhaps.
Along the coastline, leading into the bay, the military forces of the city watched and waited. Tanks and artillery, all of them crewed by nervous soldiers - they knew that something ‘big’ was coming, but command had told them little. Most of them didn't have the faintest clue of what they'd have to face - as ignorant as the vermin that crawled in the sewers, or the occasional bird resting on an unused power cable.
"A
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Literature
Nine-Pointed Heart
One is a definer of morality, purpose
Two is a healer of hearts, kindness
Three is a champion of masks, adaptation
Four is a loner of expression, difference
Five is a watcher of secrets, knowledge
Six is a protector of causes, cautious
Seven is a jester of arts, positive
Eight is a master of confrontation, strength
Nine is a diplomat of people, peace
 
Nine ways of thinking, despite variations,
         
Tri-types and senses, share nine foundations.
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Literature
Fortepiano, a prize
Black keys on white, this grand fortepiano,
The Mad Musician, Mr James Crescendo.
 
Lilac haired girl, she’s not skipping a beat,
A hopeful student, Miss Adeline Sweet.
 
Cold blueberries, chills down spine,
Not like the others, why won’t she be mine?
 
How she plays and how she speaks,
How she looks and how she seeks.
 
Despite similar ages, a student and teacher,
Illegal to act, or be viewed like some creature.
 
A dangerous tale, one of music and stigma,
But the ending unknown, an unanswered enigma.
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debbiespuppyportraits - Example 2 (Poppy) by Eventua debbiespuppyportraits - Example 2 (Poppy) :iconeventua:Eventua 4 9 debbiespuppyportraits - Example 1 (Sasha) by Eventua debbiespuppyportraits - Example 1 (Sasha) :iconeventua:Eventua 5 5
Literature
The Glory of Science...?
Once our tribes did wander green,
A world so fresh, varied, clean,
Yet dirty and untamed.
Then we mastered fire, bright,
Built our camps, safe in light,
Yet darkness all around.
Next came forges, mighty stone,
Metal cold, towns and throne,
Yet conflict in our hearts.
Making words and taming beasts,
Seeing places, we ate our feasts,
Yet now, strangers?
Coal and gas, ships with fabric sail,
Mark the map and blaze a trail,
Yet still these strangers.
Industry, steel, machines on wheels,
‘Disproving’ God with fervent zeal,
Yet the sky turns dark.
Speak and think at lightning speeds,
Ideas and notions, old ways bleed,
Yet are we us?
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Literature
The Girl Who Went To The Woods
Once upon a time, there was a little town, called Harpur. The little town was quiet, built on the edge of a great forest. Living in the village was a little girl, named Summer. Summer was very naughty.
 
One day, Summer went into the woods. Her mother had told her not to - "No Summer!" she had said, "There's terrible fairies in the woods!"
 
Summer didn't listen. She went anyway, and wandered through the undergrowth for what seemed like miles. Whenever she turned to go back home, however, the undergrowth and trees had changed! Summer was lost!
 
Eventually, Summer found a fairy. It was slimy and bug-eyed and short. She assumed it must be a Boggart or a Pixie. They were always playing tricks, or so mother had said.
 
"I want to go home!" said Summer to the fairy. She knew she shouldn't talk to fairies - the only good fairy is a dead fairy, that's what father always said. But, she was very lost and lonely, and the ugly little fairy was the only thing she cou
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Literature
Mel

Mel was mauve,
Not violet or purple,
Light as a feather
and rather nocturnal.
 
Mel was a moth,
Not a spotted fritillary,
Once a pupae,
Before, an armillary.
 
Mel was Maltese,
From the moors she did come,
Didn’t like light,
Addicted to rum!
 
Then that she realized,
Malta doesn’t have moors,
Just deserty hills,
And an army of tourists!
 
Her whole life a lie,
Was rather depressing,
Into a spiral,
Her problems repressing.
 
Maybe one day,
She’ll flutter carefree,
Until that day,
Just drinks rum by the sea.
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Aliens on Camera! With More Angles! by Eventua Aliens on Camera! With More Angles! :iconeventua:Eventua 0 0

Favourites

Dreamodile by Monster-Man-08 Dreamodile :iconmonster-man-08:Monster-Man-08 96 11 Masks by wylielise Masks :iconwylielise:wylielise 1,736 40 Nidl Extras 1 by lgliang Nidl Extras 1 :iconlgliang:lgliang 274 12 Man of the Future by Jeep-Senpai Man of the Future :iconjeep-senpai:Jeep-Senpai 7 2 Kachou Sittin Progress by Doodallyflipicus Kachou Sittin Progress :icondoodallyflipicus:Doodallyflipicus 3 0
Literature
Lost in My Mental Sea
I did what I thought was best for you,
because I knew you were happier without;
so I decided I would row this boat alone,
but I found myself drowning in the burden of doubt.
And believe me about this--I tried to keep on rowing.
I kept my hands in a state of perpetual motion;
doing my best not to think about the static on my mind...
And in my delusions I believed there was somewhere I was going;
I hoped I'd get from point A to B.
But without a lighthouse on this open sea,
there would be no destination for a desperate me...
:iconWordOfChen:WordOfChen
:iconwordofchen:WordOfChen 23 18
Brunds by Doodallyflipicus Brunds :icondoodallyflipicus:Doodallyflipicus 3 0 Draw This Again-Kachou by Doodallyflipicus Draw This Again-Kachou :icondoodallyflipicus:Doodallyflipicus 2 0 Day 1370. Susheep by Cryptid-Creations Day 1370. Susheep :iconcryptid-creations:Cryptid-Creations 3,307 64
Literature
Delectable
How delectable, this tiny little morsel,
This poor beating thing that you call a heart.
Once again you've given it to me
And I promise I'll find a good place for it.
Perhaps somewhere warm on a little shelf
Along with all the others...
:iconWordOfChen:WordOfChen
:iconwordofchen:WordOfChen 17 7
More Chou by Doodallyflipicus More Chou :icondoodallyflipicus:Doodallyflipicus 1 0
Literature
Lock and Load
Humanity's fuel has always been cruelty.
Disguised beneath a smile and solemn 'objectivity'
No subjective judgement ever crosses a mouth.
Except when it is behind the back of the person denounced.
The verbal punishment is strength
No matter how wrong, the Schadenfreude is addictive
And we are not strong
Enough to resist it--we are but addicts in the snow
Our chilled bodies aching for its warmth and its glow.
But this is why I never trust,
For how could I pretend I must.
Play the fool of society.
A tool of sobriety.
Acting as the mortal definition
Of the average man...
If it is the world that requires fakery
Then the world itself is a forgery
And if it takes both blood and bullets.
I will return us to the arms of reality.
:iconWordOfChen:WordOfChen
:iconwordofchen:WordOfChen 19 8
Literature
Never Going Back
'Never Going Back'
Is a phrase I used too often
Until I woke up one day
And realised much to my chagrin
That burned bridges
May never be repaired...
:iconWordOfChen:WordOfChen
:iconwordofchen:WordOfChen 18 1
Literature
The Cost Of Love
People will tell me
Love is built of trust
But darling, I must disagree.
For simply trusting
That he will not lay a hand on you
When he slams the door in your face...
Trusting
That he will never mean it
When he says he will do you harm...
Trusting
That his words, although echoing,
Will never transform into a fist,
Willing to do anything in order
To get the things
He craves...
That is not building love.
People will tell me
Love is formed from accepting flaws
But, oh, dear, how I disagree!
For accepting the way he screams at you
When you talk to people
He doesn't approve of...
Accepting the way
He looks into your innocent eyes
And touches you with
Such a meaningless caress...
That is not forming love.
This is hatred
Coated in sweet sugar
And dipped in everlasting fantasies,
Dreams, perhaps...
Dreams
That maybe he will love you
The way he claims
He does.
Love is not equivalent
To locked doors
And unnecessary restrictions.
Darling,
Do not spend your nights
Nor your wishes,
Nor your dreams
:iconMikkiMarie:MikkiMarie
:iconmikkimarie:MikkiMarie 70 16
Literature
Burning Snow
The rising of black
doesn't kill the snow.
The forest goes crack
with each fiery glow.
The flames don't hold back,
alive as the snow down low.
Both crawling like plaque
towards a village not in the know.
Not a soul flees in fright,
all the dogs lay lame.
On the darkest of night,
all the living were tame.
It all ended in white,
under our Lady of Flame.
:iconDrSurgeonGuy:DrSurgeonGuy
:icondrsurgeonguy:DrSurgeonGuy 6 5
The boys by Doodallyflipicus The boys :icondoodallyflipicus:Doodallyflipicus 3 0
My favorites, myes.

Groups

Watchers

So! After much thinking, I have decided to award the prize to :iconvan-nessie:!

Congratulations! Her entry is here: fav.me/d65mbjs

800 points will be given! Also, a feature, as promised! :D

Her gallery shows skill and potential! Also, lots of bizarre and brilliant OCs! Some examples that I thought were excellent, below!

and Top Class Nyan Around The World by Van-Nessie and James Crescendo re-make by Van-Nessie

Just... look at those designs! Brilliant!

Regarding the 'poem based on a previous image' (the third prize), you will receive it when I write it. I will make sure to do so! Unfortunately, suffering from a case of writer's block right now - but I will get back to you with it soon.

And, um, so, yes...!

Till next time, folks!

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:iconhaileymorrisonbooks:
HaileyMorrisonBooks Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch! :excited: Llama for you!
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:iconeventua:
Eventua Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2015  Student Writer
Aww, thank you! :D
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:iconhaileymorrisonbooks:
HaileyMorrisonBooks Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! :happybounce:
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:icontommyboywood:
tommyboywood Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:) :)
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2014
Thanks for the fave :D
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2014
Thanks for the fave :]
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2014
Thanks for the fave :love:
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:iconeventua:
Eventua Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2014  Student Writer
No pwoblem. :3
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner May 27, 2014
:rose: Thanks for reading again
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:icontommyboywood:
tommyboywood Featured By Owner May 27, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks michael
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:iconspigarose:
SpigaRose Featured By Owner May 26, 2014
thanks a lot for the watch :iconletmehugyouplz::heart:
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:iconeventua:
Eventua Featured By Owner May 26, 2014  Student Writer
No problem.
Reply
:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner May 25, 2014
:rose: Thanks for reading
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:iconeventua:
Eventua Featured By Owner May 26, 2014  Student Writer
Oh, no problem. Thanks for writing! :P
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2014
Thanks for the faves :love:
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