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A Hallway of MirrorsDeep beyond time, far away from the cave Live a country of people who are digging their graves.A Hallway of Mirrors
To join them is misery, to help them, divine, But who gets the glory? It's surely not mine.
In tears and in sorrow, in greed and in lust, These people grow weary of losing their trust.
When nobody knows and nobody cares, There's nowhere to go, and nobody dares.
-=-=-
It was a dark night. The rain fell like a ghost on the everyday houses. The insides were full of people deep in slumber. They never heard the tears that descended so noiselessly, so ignorant to all
by =Naughtbutaservant
Prose
Terre de la fontaine -Prologue“Hello?”Terre de la fontaine -Prologue
“Can you hear me?” “Good.” “Listen, there isn’t much time. You have to get down to the station. Your ticket is in the pocket of your blue windbreaker. The train leaves in ten minutes.” *click* *dial tone*
It was raining. The dim-glowing lights of the alarm clock read 1:25 AM, and there’s only one train that leaves at 1:35 in the morning. He sidled out of bed, wide-awake as always. William Fabiano was not exactly tall, but his voice towered over all who made the unforgivable mistake of attempting to ruin his plans. Will knows when to give orders, and when to take them. Tonight, he decided to
by =Naughtbutaservant
POBAW - Essay 1The perks of being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky was one of the few books that I can say that I actually felt smarter after I had read it; not smarter in the book-sense, but rather, smarter in the life-sense. I believe that the best part of the book is that we can all somehow relate to the protagonist, Charlie. Every one of us, when we read it, can say; I have done, thought, wanted to do, or felt that before; with at least one aspect of the book. It gives us a feeling of having been there, because we have. And it assures us that if some guy is writing a book about what I’ve gone through, I can’t be the only one. It’s been saiPOBAW - Essay 1
by =Naughtbutaservant
POBAW - Essay 2“I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people just because they could have. I need to know that these people exist” (Chbosky 1). These are the words of a 15-year-old boy most likely not named Charlie. His outward display can be viewed as almost sapient. However, internally Charlie struggles with a near suffocating self-restraint. Asceticism could describe Charlie in a word with his, perhaps subliminal, need for approval. Though it may be either the resultant of or the catalyst for the previous descriptions, curiosity is undoubtedly the most visible of Charlie’s botherations. Though hiPOBAW - Essay 2
by =Naughtbutaservant
Sleep - Psychlgclly spkngI have learned many things through my studies of the most elusive branch of psychology. I have been sleeping off an on for a good few years now, so I know what I’m talking about when I say, ‘Sleep is good.’ I’m just kidding, through my research, I’ve learned about things like circadian rhythm, the physiological changes that accompany sleep, dreams, and the various sleep disorders. In addition, though we do not know per se why we sleep and dream, there are theories.Sleep - Psychlgclly spkng
Circadian Rhythm is a biological 24.18-hour clock. That’s right our bodies are based on a timing system other than 2 hours. So how come we don’t lose an hour ev
by =Naughtbutaservant
A Hallway of Mirrors-Chapter 1PrologueA Hallway of Mirrors-Chapter 1
Deep beyond time, far away from the cave Live a country of people who are digging their graves.
To join them is misery, to help them, divine, But who gets the glory? It’s surely not mine.
In tears, and in sorrow, in greed and in lust, These people grow weary of losing their trust.
When nobody knows and nobody cares, There’s nowhere to go, and nobody dares.
~ Anonymous ~
“It was a dark night. The rain fell like a ghost on the everyday houses. The insides were full of people deep in slumber. They never heard the
by =Naughtbutaservant
Terre de la Fontaine-Chapter 1William made his way back to the car, and sat in the seat for a moment. It was now nearing 3:30, and he was tired. The plane leaves four hours from now, he’d sleep on the plane. By now the rain had stopped, and only the moon had a peek on the tableau of grey and sepia that lined the sleepy streets of his hometown. An adventure, he told himself. A true life-changing adventure. He assumed that he was due for one of those. The killing got boring to him by now. Besides, a new town, new country… New Continent. He was very glad when he found out later on the internet that they speak mostly English in the Terre de la Fontaine. With all of these newTerre de la Fontaine-Chapter 1
by =Naughtbutaservant
Literary Poetry
The power of One...One long day One long life One chance waiting One end to strifeThe power of One...
One daily gathering One daily meal One time to meet One time to fulfill
One glorious morning One jubilee day One chance to sustain us One day, every way.
by =Naughtbutaservant
Heed the CallThe time is here. The time is right; to take the journey, commence the flight.Heed the Call
don't sit back and wait, dare not hesitate, do now what you can, before it's too late.
There is one who is here lost, forsaken by fear. You yet hear them callng. Please lend them your ear.
'But they all look the same' in your silence you speak. We all have a name. All-in-all, we are weak.
Then you view through the haze, you see the one calling. She says 'I am here.' 'I am lost' 'I am falling'
Then the thoug
by =Naughtbutaservant
...Peace...The light of day for all i can see. The fire within, burns inside of me...Peace...
My portion though small, it brings me such peace. and though i may fall, I never will cease.
Though long is the war, as such is the fight. The soldiers cry out, it is time for the flight.
'It is done! It is done!' They cry from afar. The journey is over, The journey was far.
But there o'er the sea, behold yet another. The journey begins, Let us not lay here idle.
On this isle of the sea, there is work to be done.
by =Naughtbutaservant
The WindowThe window. Back to where it all began.The Window
It's interesting how life seems to go around in circles. How it all comes back.
It's been nearly two years now. Like a blindfolded array of changing channels. The only difference is, I'm the one holding the remote control.
I often find myself back at the window. Not one bit less awe-struck. But eversomuch more comfortable. Like a warm blanket wrapped firmly around my shoulders.
I'm human. And that means life is tricky sometimes. But i keep coming back to the window. Ever closer. &n
by =Naughtbutaservant
How many?Many exist, but do many live? many will take, but so few will give.How many?
How many go left, when it says to go right? How many won't flee, and instead stay to fight?
The world says ok, but is it really all good? So many lay idle, but have they fully understood?
Many stand up and say what's on their mind, But they might just be the first of their kind.
But at the end of it all, only one thing matters, It is the one who lives, not the one who flatters.
by =Naughtbutaservant
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