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I know who did it. Took me a while to figure it out. Thought I had lost the scent for a while there. Took me a couple months to get back on track.

No matter what they tell you on the TV, it’s hard to find someone doesn’t want to be found. Well, and the person that did it, obviously they didn’t want to be found. But I know who it was. I know where they are. I guess what I’m saying is: I know.

So now I prepare. Get my stuff together. All the things I need to make someone pay for what happened. I am patient. I’ve done the legwork. The mindwork. I know what I’m about. I know what to do. I have a plan.

So I pack what I need. I pack the cable binders, the soldering iron, I pack the hammer.

Then I write this.

I write this to let the one I know did it know I know they did it.
See, I know.

And as you’re reading this now, I know that you know. And I know that you begin to realize what it is I know.

I know everything.

I know it was you.
I know who did it
My entry for round four of CRLiterature's flash fiction contest. The challenge was to write a piece of flash fiction length (max. 1000 words) with a fourth wall break.
And I thought I'd use this opportunity to creep people the f*** out :D Fourth wall breaks are good for that.
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The day the adverbs disappeared, few noticed. The descent into catastrophe was a gradual one. The adverb phrases stopped working. Time phrases broke down.

In the following days, more and more grammar ground to a halt. Verbs felt bland and unmotivated. They longed for the modification and the functional versatility the adverbs had provided them. Job satisfaction was at an all-time low.

Nuances vanished. Customer satisfaction plummeted.

The nouns began to feel the blow. They were the most solid and substantial of the words, but they started to feel the impending disaster.

In their stolidity, many of them refused to act. Passivity was in their nature. They were unlike the verbs, who had been running scared since the whole frightening affair became public.

One noun would prove the exception of the rule. Adverb went in search of the missing members of grammar, contracting the scorn of its peers. It felt responsible. The adverbs were Adverb’s charges, it felt. It contacted the foreign languages to no avail. They faced the same mystery. In desperation, it ventured into the uncharted wastes of raw phonetics and beyond, to the borders of total aphasia, where it was said that madness could be glimpsed. It found no trace.

It returned to find grammar and vocabulary in further panic and disarray. The adjectives had vanished. Blandness spread. Fear was paramount among the remaining words. How could grammar continue? Who would follow?

Articles disappeared. Prepositions. Time, Grammaticality became impossibility. Foreshortening. Disappearance verbs. Breakdown grammar. Question time disappearance nouns.

Imminence extinction language

Totality silence.
The Day They Disappeared
This is my entry to the third round of the flash fiction contest of CRLiterature. The challenge was to write a text of 256 words, containing no adverbs. Which makes negation a heck of a job, as not (as in don't, can't and so on) is an adverb. It's not the first time I've been happy to have learned linguistics, but certainly one of the times I've been most glad of that fact. But this also gave me an idea for a plot! Why not have adverbs vanish in the story, as well? And why then not restrict myself further, as further words disappeared? The result you can read above. I hope you like it. Praise and critique are, as always, welcome and appreciated!
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So you want to know what 'appened that night, eh? Well, lemme tell ya! I knows it all. I were there now, weren't I? Seen it wif me own two little peepers, I 'ave! Best buy us another round o' drinks. Wouldn't want me ole tongue to go dry right at the juicy bits now, would we?

Now, that night, I were out with me old Jolly Jenny an' me crew. 'ad been fishin all day, an' not a single little fishie 'ad come anywere near our nets. Right spooky it were. So I tells me boys as 'ow we're going to stay out a bit longer, see if we couldnt catch anything after dark an' make the trip not be a total waste. And so we was waitin' an' starin' into the night.

An' then, outta nothin', lighnin' flashes! Never in all me days 'ave I seen linghtnin' right out a clear sky like that. An' then, there's mist boilin' all around us, and the sea gets up and tosses us around fer a bit.

When it calms down, right back on deck we were, squintin' out into the fog. There was a rumblin' comin' across the water, like from a huge beast growlin' its anger. I goes an' gets me a sturdy length of wood, an' I tells me mates to do the same. Better safe than sorry, says I. So there we are, starin' put into the soup, all 'oldin' some weapon. An' the rumblin' gets louder an' louder.

Another flash, an' the fog tears open. There she is! The Titanic! I knows 'er right away! Them four smokestacks, that huge 'ull. A magnificent beast she was, an' no mistake, but none that you wants bearin' down on ya. So we scrambles for the rudder sharpish!
An' just as we are out the way, I hears it again, the rumble. Only this time it gets to be a right deafenin' roar of a sound. And after the great ship it comes, the beast. A sight to make a grown man cower in fright like a little girl. But I couldn't tear me eyes away, all the time clutchin' at the rudder, an' so I seen it all. I seen wha' really 'appened to the greatest ship in the 'ole world!

Giant tentacles boilin' outta the sea, grippin' 'er 'ull an' rippin' it like it were made of paper, an' the 'ole time that deafenin roar comin from the beast's beak! I only just seen 'her break in 'alf an' all the peple fallin' right into the monster's maw as the fog closed behind us. We ran for land like ole scratch 'imself were on our 'eels!

An' that's what really 'appened to the Titanic, I tells ya! Not what all the newspapers worte, 'twere no iceberg what got 'er! If ya don't believe me, jus' look at me mate Freddy over there, 'is 'air turned all white from fear, an' all twitchy! I knows the truth! There be a monster out there, an' I'm not goin' back out. They calls me a dunken ole liar, but just you wait till it gets 'em! Jus' wait...
What the Old Sailor Saw
This is my entry for round 2 of CRLiterature's flash fiction contest. The challenge was to write a piece with an unreliable narrator, counting 527.5 words. Well, my count says 528, but I think the 'alf word is well taken care of in this text :)
I hope you enjoy it! Praise and critique are, as always, very welcome indeed!
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I breathe in the smell of your hair.
I hear the little sounds you make,
as I touch you
here
and here
and there.
Taste your sweat on my tongue
as I let it travel.
Feel the smoothness of your skin,
and feel it ripple with goosebumps.
I feel your hot breath caress my face,
and taste the inside of your mouth.
I shiver as your teeth scrape my neck.
Just feel.

I feel your slow breath
as your chest rises and falls
under my hand.
I feel your warmth against me,
sinking into me.
Hear the comfortable little sounds you make,
as I stroke the nape of your neck
and kiss it.
I feel the comfort
the calm that your presence brings
after the heat
or the cold.
I feel myself
and you
drift off
or just drift.
Just feel.
I close my eyes and breathe in. For a moment I think I can smell your hair on the wind. For a moment, I think I can feel your lips on my eyelids. I open my mouth and it almost seems as if I could taste you on the breeze. I stretch out my hands and I can almost feel your silky hair slipping through my fingers. For a second, I feel as if I could just reach out and touch you. A raindrop on my hand feels like your tear. I open my eyes and the moment is gone.
On the Inside
I wrote this for the Flash Fiction contest at CRLiterature.
The challenge was to write anything in precisely 100 words. I used these 100 words to describe something fleeting, that is almost not even there. Like a story in a hundred words.
Not exactly very original, I know, but I like it, and I think it works rather well...
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I feel another rant coming on. What's more, it is about how I understand art, once again!

Art is supposed to be free. It should be free. Free to do its own thing. Free to be its own purpose.

But! Art should also be free to be political. Opinionated. Not only about beauty, but about issues. Free to be unpleasant, uncomfortable.

All art is about things that matter to the artist, in one way or another. That can be both "Ars gratia Artis" (Sorry for stealing, MGM!) and art that kicks some issue right where it hurts.

And another BUT! Art does not exist in a vacuum. Art exist as much because an artist makes it, as it exists because people see it. Art does not only spring forth from the artist's pen (or brush, or graphics tablet, or guitar, or hammer and chisel), but is also created in the heads of all the people who view it. (I have already done a journal entry about this.) Thus, NO ART IS ABOVE CRITIQUE, as no opinion is above opposition. And neither is it above dislike. No art is objectively antirely true, or valid, or good. Neither is it entirely untrue, or invalid, or bad. The rest is a matter of taste, and argument. A whole lot of argument, sometimes.
And that is just as well, because if it wasn't: Why bother? Why provoke? Why challenge our peers? Why be inspired or angered or touched? Why?

Knight-Poet out!

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Knight-Poet

Artist | Student | Literature
Germany
(Profile Pic: My own Coat of Arms by Citrus-Orange)
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:iconbook-of-shards:
Book-of-Shards Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2015
Meinen Dank *verbeug*
Reply
:iconweirdandlovely:
WeirdAndLovely Featured By Owner May 27, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist

Welcome to CRLiterature!

 

We are so happy you have joined.  Our Journal is filled with community news and features that many find incredibly helpful!  Our #CRLiterature chatroom is always open for you to connect with fellow writers, provided you read our Chatroom Guidelines.  The gallery is open to News Articles that are in some way related to the literature community and the guidelines can be found here.  If you’d like to contribute writings, please look at our Favorites Submission Rules.  Any other questions should be directed to the admin team via notes.

 

Thank you,

WeirdAndLovely

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:iconknight-poet:
Knight-Poet Featured By Owner May 28, 2015  Student Writer
Thanks :)

and sorry to bother you about this, but all the guideline links just seem to direct me back to DA's front page... where might I find those guidelines in the group?
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:iconweirdandlovely:
WeirdAndLovely Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey!  I am SO sorry this has taken me FOREVER to fix!  Life got really busy for me... :grump: This message should work:


Welcome to CRLiterature!

 

We are so happy you have joined.  Our Journal is filled with community news and features that many find incredibly helpful!  Our #CRLiterature chatroom is always open for you to connect with fellow writers, provided you read our Chatroom Guidelines.  The gallery is open to News Articles that are in some way related to the literature community and the guidelines can be found here.  If you’d like to contribute writings, please look at our Favorites Submission Rules.  Any other questions should be directed to the admin team via notes.

 

Thank you,

WeirdAndLovely

Reply
:iconknight-poet:
Knight-Poet Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2015  Student Writer
Thanks :)
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconbook-of-shards:
Book-of-Shards Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2015
Merci beaucoup, gentil Monsieur :)
Reply
:icontutziputz:
Tutziputz Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hallo :wave:

Herzlich willkommen bei uns :iconmusenkinder:

Wir freuen uns schon auf Deine Werke und wünschen viel Spaß beim Stöbern in unserer Galerie. :)
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:iconknight-poet:
Knight-Poet Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2015  Student Writer
Danke für die Aufnahme! Ich habe soeben einige Werke gepostet, mehr wird folgen ;)
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:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the faves and the watch! Much appreciated.
Reply
:iconknight-poet:
Knight-Poet Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2014  Student Writer
'twas my pleasure :)
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