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The 0-5 Comments Issues feature a deviant as well as 3 deviations with less than 5 original comments from a wide selection of art. Please give your time to this article and to write constructive comments so that you make a true difference to the artists featured here.

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Featured Deviations

Digital Art
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Photography
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Traditional Art
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Artisan Crafts
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Designs & Interfaces
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Literature – Prose
Retracing Childhood MemoriesI remember from a very early age, I told people that I never wanted to get married, simply because I thought that marrying a man sounded repulsive, haha, even at the age of three.
When I was about 4 and a half, I went to an interactive show, and a guy came up to me with a microphone and asked me "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and I said "I want to be a mommy" .. hehe that has still stayed the same- someday, I want to be a mommy.
I do recall that at age 6, when I was blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, I wished for a pet zebra. I swear to god.
I've had a pokemon-themed cake about 3 times at my own birthdays in my life.
I refused to wear dresses at a young age and instead loved wearing shorts and cute little t-shirts with flowers on them. I was girly in some aspects, and not in others- I refused to play with barbies because they weren't soft and cuddly like my stuffed animals.. and the thought of having.. like.. adult women in your hands? It freaked me out, haha. The Death of a DreamFrank did not know what had happened; he just heard Gerard scream "No!" at someone or something, and his friend had not come back since. The twelve-year-old wrung his hands nervously; it was getting quite dark and their mothers would not be happy if they went home late again.
Biting his lip, he entered the forest-like group of trees in the middle of the park and began looking for his friend. He hated going into "the woods", as the local kids called this section of the park, but he hated being alone more, so he bravely tried to ignore the fact that the trees (like almost everything and everyone else) loomed over him menacingly.
"Gerard?" he called, his voice breaking a little. He cleared his throat and called again, louder and clearer. A gust of wind brought him back a whispered answer.
"Over here, Frankie," Gerard replied from behind a bush. His voice sounded weak and sad, like he had been crying. Frank followed the other boy's voice.
Gerard was sitting on the muddy ground, not caring ObsessionTheir breaths mingled as he looked down at her, awe in his eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair.  Somehow, for some reason, the Maker had blessed him mightily.  She was his.  More importantly, he was hers.  She was the one who had changed him from an untried schoolboy into a man.  Rhiamon was the first woman he'd been with, and the only woman he'd ever loved.
Loved.
The word should have sent panic racing through his being, yet with her it seemed right.  Peace stole over him as he watched the woman beside him.  Rolling off of her, he lay back against the grass and pulled her up against his side.  
Thoughts crowded his mind.  He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her from the moment she had left the tower with Duncan.  He wanted to explain how he'd been eaten away by jealousy when he'd learned she was traveling with Alistair.  He wanted to tell her how frightened he

Literature – Poetry
:thumb215732858: silent Sundaysstruck enough, the crystal cracks and we are so fascinated
by the light that sparkles off the man-made flaws.  we forget
and stand too close.  the brisant report of the facets' fail
and we are showered with the razor splinters of our folly.
jolly good fun to the observers.  but there is still a pulse,
deep within the core of this frame and I am not one given
to more than an acknowledgement of difficulties.  blood and pain
are not reason or season to turn tail and run to the horizon.
battered, yes.  bruised, yes.  but even when the tethers slip
my grip on the headboard where you bound me with a promise...
remains.  hurry home.
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.   milky waywe're buying ink and re
tracing our footsteps on
the icy roads that might
teach us how to come
home (when we are
ready).
we'll search for the right
colors to stain our hands with
because the milky way was
never stronger than our
glass fingernails, and we
could make shapes in the
fabric of darkness better
than constellations ever
did, and something occurs
to me when we
are staring at the
galaxy of our fingers inter-
twining, we are bigger than
solar systems and broken
space shuttles, more
vast even than the slow
vibratos of
light fixtures and
bits of justice.

Cartoons & Comics
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Manga/Anime
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Fan Art
^{~featured by Jenniej92}  
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Featured Deviant

Thank you for reading!

3wyl, posting on behalf of ProjectComment