Karkat Monologue

Vibrant hues of orange and yellow were smeared together and they played with violent shades of red. The rising sun rested in a bed of golden rose, cotton clouds. Its rays of light spilling over the hills like pale orange paint. At least, that's what I imagined this sunrise would look like in a world without skyscrapers and other assorted buildings suffocating the horizon, sucking the life out of the beauty that nature gives us, and replacing it with smoke, oil, and the stench of our ever growing need to expand. Our need, humanity's need to leave no blade of grass behind, to cover every inch of the earth with pollution and man made roads and structures, is what is destroying the beauty that nature provides.

I pushed myself to my hands and knees. I glanced over my shoulder, and let out a hiccupping moan of

The horn has already sounded and I’m still running. I can feel my blood pulsing in my ears. The sounds of useless advice feels the air. I continue to run. I come across a cave and ran into it. I gasp in shock and as I walk into a lab filled with mindless people editing videos. A film crew rushes at me and says, “If you were able to be in Divergent, which character would you be?” I shake my head in confusion. I attempt to back up slowly, but they grab me and place me in front of a computer and yell, “Edit!” The slam the headphones on my head and everything becomes a blur.

I’m ready to fight i tried telling myself, but I’m not until I turn on my music but now I think that it is distracting me. Let's do this, it’s now or never. “For Skyrim” I yell.

This is what Malik never puts pen to paper, much as he'd like to. You're more like him than you think you are, or maybe you learnt the art of vindictiveness from the best. Either way, you've internalised your own problem of Otherness, only its no longer Other, it's you now.

She opens her mouth to say something but all she can manage is a choked sputter of, "No, I didn't...wait-"

I picked my left hoof up and used my right to launch myself to the left of my opponent. If he wanted me to go right, then so be it, I would go right. I thrashed away from him, bringing my wing up and aiming it at his jaw. I didn't want his teeth on my neck anymore. But the motions pained me, the ache he had left in my chest was still present and my breathing still wasn't quite normal. Stepping away from him was painful, too. He was hurting me even when he wasn't breathing down my neck.

The smell of burning flesh is repugnant. It lingers on every street corner, on every piece of cloth, in every shallow breath. The sky is red. Glowing through black clouds that are heavy with the ashes of those who have stopped screaming. More than three thousand tonnes of high explosive bombs are dropped. Again. Again. Again. Just like dust caught in a sunbeam, the ash swirls a slow descent. The air pulls in. Pauses. Pressure building. The blood in your veins almost recoils, your brain bruised in your skull. A moment of vertigo. Then nothing but noise. Loud. Angry. Ringing. And pain, so much pain. Screams rise, the crescendo approaches. Hellfire rips through the buildings, the sky, the people, your heart. This city is a firestorm.

“Hi,” I try to keep my voice deep but I know I sound more like a little boy with a stutter.

My vision blurs momentarily, then focuses and I freak out. I slap the hand away from me, scrambling back. Terror fires through me as my mind still tries registering what’s happening. I don’t get far in my scrambling as my back slams into a wall and I turn, panicking.

I woke up with a busting headache, "Wh-here am I?" I muttered looking around in a dark room. A bright light flashed, "Tate who do you pick?" I heard James speak. Picked!? More people? I looked over and spotted to girls in the cornor sobbing. "Her." I looked to where his finger was pointing. Me!? Tate motioned his finger for me to get up, I rise walking towards him, what's there to fight for anyway? James eyed me the 'you better not try nything stupid' look. Tate lead my limp body towards a room, "Sit." he whispered, I sat right in the floor, "What the hell i'm not bad, come sit on my be." "Ok bitch." "What kind of music do you like?" "Why." "Why not." "Alternative." "Is hollywood undead ok?" "Fucking love that band!" I boomed. Tate

“This is where the knowledge gets dicey. My family and clan are Selkie’s and now you’re entrusted to keep our secret.”

It was a bright, crisp, mellow morning in April. I, being the untalented and unwilling hair stylist that I am, decided that getting dolled up wasn’t exactly going to slide into my schedule this morning. Instead, I declined the idea and rummaged around for another alternative that was probably buried under a pile of bobby pins and hair combs. Postliminary, I discovered the only item that would shelter my bedhead from onlookers - a fashionable headscarf. Naturally and skillfully, I wrapped my unkempt hair and headed to my National History Day practice that I was already pressed for time for. I’ve always been keen on the idea and look of headscarves, and I’ve always believed that headscarves were admirable and a unique accessory, and seeing that

My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.

I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know it could kill me. One time when I was 8, I was playing with some chapstick. I was putting It on everything when I decided to take a bite out of it. I ended up getting really sick and almost dying.