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Literature
Penance
    The bar is small and dingy, the air thick with the smoke of cheap cigarettes. It swirls above the dark figures, forming a hazy fog over everything. The floor is sticky with spilled liquor, the bartender too busy ignoring everything but requests for another beer or another shot to notice. Not that anyone minds. Each patron is there for the same reason: to forget.
    From her corner, sitting alone at a small table, a woman looks on, her eyes glazed by alcohol. The haze in the air reflects the haze in her mind. She has drunk enough that the sounds around her fade into an indistinct buzz; her vision is clouded; she only sees blurry figures around her – if she had been in a brightly lit room, she would not have been able to see much better. In a room full of people, she is utterly alone, just like every other broken soul sitting at the other tables. Some of the patrons laugh... a harsh, hollow laugh, more difficult to hear than actual grief
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Mature content
Screw Driver :iconyaotl:yaotl 0 0
Literature
Untitled
Why did you have to love me? Every time I look there you are, your eyes, your face, your future. I don’t want to destroy that future; I don’t want to see that face in tears. And so I toil forward, no matter how much it hurts, and it hurts so much.
Why did you have to look up to me? I am your hero, I am special, and I am awesome in your innocent little heart, incapable of any wrong. Delicate flower that is your mind, I shudder at the thought of what might hurt it. So I trod on, never mind that I want to stop so badly.
And I love you, and I care about you. And it is you the final thread that holds me fast to this life I’d rather quit. I don’t want to do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore, but every time I want to quit I see your face and I hear my name from your lips. And I grit my teeth and keep going.
I smile for you. And when I don’t, I shrug and act as if it’s no big deal. I just feel sick today, I tell you, and you nod. How could I tell y
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Literature
My Journey
It shouldn't have taken this long.
For a long time I wandered: lost, alone, unable to trust myself. Within, I called myself all kinds of names: screw-up, fuck up, lazy, weak... unable to get up on my own, I was merciless in my self-criticism. No one could have inflicted pain and remorse on me the way I did – not as effectively, and not as relentlessly.
“Write,” “study,” “work,” “wake-up,” “get up already,” “DO SOMETHING!” The worse I felt, the more I scolded myself: mind over matter, yes?” “Just do it!” “raise your hands and type...” Then I would sit there, in front of the computer, my mental anguish translated into throbs of pain shooting up my forearms, to my hands, into the joints of my fingers... and that voice remained, torturing.
By nightfall I was exhausted. All that self-deprecation only had served to drain away my energy without the satisfaction of accomplishing anything
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Excercise: Tree :iconyaotl:yaotl 4 2
Literature
Blood: The Fledgling, part 2
     The warehouse was not dark as he had expected; in fact, it was very well lit by
the full moon, shining through several gaps on the roof. Still, there were enough
dark corners for him to exploit, and with his eyes perfectly adapted to the dark he
navigated through the abandoned equipment without a problem. He crouched
behind an old machine that was too worn out to tell what its function had been. In
the furthest corner of the warehouse was a sleeping man, the reek of alcohol
surrounding him; he was the perfect victim, helpless and too far gone to even try to
defend himself. The fledgling smiled and licked his lips.
     He had crouched, ready to jump on his victim, when he heard several voices
approaching. He barely had enough time to hide from the intruders: he could tell
there were entirely too many for him to fight off, and as the warehouse entrance
was his only viable exit, he was trapped.
     The doors
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Literature
Blood: The fledgling
       The sun had just set, and as the light dimmed, the tension in the air grew. The
town's people hurried home or scurried for shelter, trying to hide from the nightly
onslaught of the undead. The homeless and destitute, among them entire families
with children, made easy targets and they could only pray that they would see the
next sunrise. They huddled together in small communities, relying in numbers to
protect each other, trying their best not to be the next body that would appear in
the streets come the morning.
       Among the populace walked the young vampires; too young to have acquired
the deathly pallor of the elders, they blended easily with the general population.
One such fledgling wandered around the dark alleys, too nervous to venture among
these small communities. Fledglings, as a rule, were too weak to deal with but very
small groups, often no more than three or four depending on their age. Thus,
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Literature
Chasing the Sun
     There was a story, told from long ago, about a girl who wished for nothing more
than freedom. What happened may be magic, or may be the imagination of the
story tellers. It may have been that the men in charge of bringing her back to the
fields didn’t want to admit a young girl had outsmarted them and so came up with
this tale. However it came to be, this is the story; you may believe it or not, as you
wish.
     It was the end of yet another exhausting day. With the sun setting over the
fields the slaves began to take their tools back to the shed, another day worked,
another day ended. Their bodies slumped in exhaustion, longing only for the comfort
of their beds.
     Among them was a special young girl. She could talk to the sun and understand
the whispers of the wind; they’d told her of the wonders outside of the field and of
her little hut, of the lands that lay just beyond where the sun set.
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Literature
Paranoia
I take a step and my boot sinks with a deaf crunch into the snow. It’s quiet; there are no birds, no squirrels, not even a breeze to move the tree branches. I didn’t know the woods could be so quiet. I feel like I’m walking into a temple; I feel an urge to kneel down and pray. The noise Pepe and I make feels sacrilegious.
We follow the trail so we won’t get lost. We usually follow the creek, but today I want to try a new road. The woods are my favorite place to be. I like it better in the summer, when it’s warm and squirrels and birds move about, when the breeze makes the branches dance and sing. Today everything has been plunged into a strange world; a world where everything is white. Thin clouds cover the sky like a blanket; no, like a giant fluorescent light. Maybe this is what heaven looks like. Suddenly Pepe perks his ears and stares into the distance. I try to see what he sees; maybe a squirrel, or a deer. I see nothing.
Stupid puppy, I think. We continue
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Literature
Merry Christmas, Tammy - II
The aroma coming from the kitchen announced that Christmas eve had finally arrived.  The women were busy in the kitchen preparing for the night's feast, while the men had all gone out to get tables, chairs and other supplies from the stores.  Tammy sneaked into the kitchen, squeezed in between two aunts and took a look at the turkey slowly baking in the oven.  The delicious aroma was making her mouth water.  It sizzled in its pan, and she could even see the meat sweating its juices.  It had been baking all day, Mama Lola taking it out occasionally to bathe it in sauce.
"Tammy!  Out of the kitchen!"  Mama Lola shoed her away while carrying a very heavy pot of rice.  As soon as Papi came they would all go home to change.  But at the moment Tammy was very bored.  Her cousins were upstairs playing with the video games, but Tammy had lost her turn; she didn't like the game anyway.  
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Literature
Merry Christmas, Tammy - I
Christmas was Tammy's favorite holiday.   All of the good things that happened to her happened during Christmas, not the least of which being that Papi came home from the States to spend a whole three weeks with them.  Tammy and her little brother had gone to the airport in the morning with Mami.  They had waited impatiently outside of the terminal along with all the other people waiting for their loved ones.   Christmas was always mayhem at the airport; there were people shouting and waiving, laughing and hugging, some even crying.  Every person leaving the terminal could have thought himself a movie star because of the cheers and the amount of people waiting.  (Papi would joke that Salvadorans took their parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles just to pick up one person.)  Tammy had looked around and agreed with Papi.  Why, her uncles and cousins were all around, all waiting for him.  She
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Literature
In your memory
The chapel is full.  I look around but there are no seats available.  Then I spot the little room they have opened to the service, there are some seats there.  I see a lot of people, most of whom I don't know.  My Class B uniform is sufoccating me.  
I sign in the book.  It's a pretty book, full of the signatures of all the unit.  But what cathces my breath is the pictures.  There you are, so full of life, smiling.  Well, not really smiling, just serene, but I can't help thinking of you as smiling.  You were always such a ray of shunshine.  I like your eyes.  Your eyes are pretty; they're the color of a summer sky.  
I take my seat and wait.  I start seeing a few faces I know.  
Then we all stand up for the National Anthem.  They are all so quiet.  The american anthem is so awkward to sing, but I try anyway. 
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Priestess of Fire :iconyaotl:yaotl 1 4
Literature
Brother love
The sounds of the battlefield fill my ears. My heart is racing; I never thought I would find myself in this situation. It stinks of blood and smoke; I step carefully over the dead bodies trying not to trip over them. I see different uniforms: members of both sides lay on the floor; separated by war, united by death, their blood is one and the same; it's all red. I have to smile. It's a bitter smile. I'm a writer, a journalist. No, right now I am a fighter. I guess I always was a fighter deep in my heart; maybe that's why I joined the service.
I know I'm out of ammo; the supply train never made it to the base and my unit was sent to retrieve it. But we were ambushed. Now I wonder if they'll send anybody to retrieve us. Maybe there will be no miracle this time. I shake my head; I have to make it, I have to. The piece of paper on my breast pocket is the reason, the end of the mission, the most important thing we could receive. If only I could find a radio. But the enemy kno
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Jacquie-roses :iconyaotl:yaotl 2 4
Literature
Mind Games - Chapter 1
The night had been lively. Hour after hour she had thrown her body into pirouettes at the club, in the small dance floor that no one cared to use at the back of the club. Sweat poured down her face, and trickled from her short hair. Her spins sent silvery droplets shimmering in the air as the music pounded in her ears.
She ignored the exhaustion in her body, welcoming the ache in her muscles as a testament to her life. She let the rhythm and the music flow into her body and command her every step and her every jump. Her white, long-sleeved shirt stuck to her back, and her black sports bra showed through the sweat-drenched cloth. She loved to dance, and as she danced words for her poems flowed into her head while her arms and legs described verses in the air.
The music stopped. Like a puppet whose strings are cut she fell slumped to the floor in exhaustion. She was laughing. The world had not been kind to her that week. The stress of the overworked hours had tensed her muscles
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yaotl

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States

Activity


I made a little writing blog where I'm going to be adding all my little stories. It's called Jacquie's Doom, Gloom and Coffee. It's at doomgloomandcoffee.wordpress.c… and we'll see how well I can handle it. 

Yay! :3

Comments


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:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2013

Now this is the story all about how
my life got flipped turned upside down
and I'd like to take a minute just sit right there
I'll tell you how Its yaotls fucking birthday





Happy birthday.

Reply
:iconyaotl:
yaotl Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You remembered my birthday! :iconhappytearplz:
Reply
:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2013
Of course bby gurl ;3;
Reply
:iconyaotl:
yaotl Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:3
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2013
Id just like to inform you that atomicLEGO and i decided to call everyone "penus" now instead of "bby", because bby is kinda getting old.

Have a good day, penus.
Reply
:iconyaotl:
yaotl Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Likewise, penus! 
Reply
:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2013
Wonderful!
Reply
:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2013
Damnit, person closed the thread. But i came to the conculsion you have to be a gurl :shifty:
Reply
:iconyaotl:
yaotl Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Sure, dude! Whatever lets you sleep at night! :giggle:



I will never tell! Never ever ever! :evillaugh:
Reply
:iconhorresco:
Horresco Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2013
:iconnotsureifplz:
Alright.... ma'am......sir >.>
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