Literary-Devices

The woods are deep and dark, night has descended upon this planet. “Woods,” exclaims Catherine. “We’re always in woodlands, I swear, first it was Gameworld Gamma, then Shallana, and it just keeps going.” “Oh hush, I thought you’d feel better after I got us behind stage to meet David Bowie.” “I still can’t believe it.” “What? That we met him?” asks Artist as leaves crumple underfoot. “No, that he had an alien inside his stomach.” “Hitchhiker, that’s what they’re called. It’s not like it hurt him.” “You cut it out

On the planet Catrigan Nova is a great and luxurious land, rocky hills accompanied by naturally gentle whirlpools as well as small aquatic life that lives underneath the blue ocean, which in turn is under an even bluer sky. But just over one of the nearby hills is a city, that city is home to the only humans for miles upon miles. This is also the only section of the entire planet which has a cloud looming above it, a very dark cloud. A man stands before his oldest friend in this bustling and dark city. “But you just can’t abstain from the food!” The friend tries to calm him down. “I caught wind that a drop ship is coming

Stories and scripts, oh so bright. Some never see the dawn of light. Adventures and escapades. Hidden like the king of spades. Hard to find in the deck of life. Others will tret it with such strife. Stories are whole worlds in your head. They live until the day you're dead. Whatever you do, don't tell your friend the secret. It would be much better just to keep it. Before they take it and call it there own. Then your story is never known.

The red light sputters like a flashlight being used by a child. One moment it is there, the next it vanishes. One could easily begin to mistake it for a dying light bulb. Artist sits on the grate floor, back pressured against his jean jacket, which in turn is pressed against the glass pane. ‘It must be from the concussion.’ The Timelord thinks silently. Another sentence enters his mind before focusing. ‘I have to beat it.’ Catherine stares into the eyes of the nightmarish snake, eyes red with blood and hate. Suddenly it flickers, the eyes become like that of a television screen with lack of reception. Darkness, Catherine

The last words of Simon were "I do not believe in magic." The things that were uttered after that brought events most tragic. Upon his trek he found a girl named Marceline Her later days have made her the vampire queen. He protected her under his wing. To keep his mind he needed to only sing. He hoped for a place where everyone knew his name. He forever teeters around, clearly insane. His minions will walk around like mice. As he wanders his kingdom of ice. He is forever the ruler of a frozen wasteland. Eternally forgetting the girl who once took his hand.

America in the 16th century was a time filled with mystery and curiosity, but most of all it was a time of hardship, and a moment in human existence that was filled to the brink with a fear of the unknown. “I shall return,” speaks John White to the slowly forming English settlement below him as he stands atop a massive wooden ship. “Soon this land will permanently become our home, Roanoke. It shall forever be remembered as a great triumph.” The crowd cheers as the ship sets its sails and travels far from the views of the ladies and gentlemen among this new colony. One of these women is named Margaret; she walks politely o

The painting rests on the dead house wall. A life sized portrait of a Asian woman laying on her back underwater. "This is the one," says the man in a fedora, cards numbered 10 and 6 in the brim, designed in style. He lifts it off the wall and places it very gently on the dusty cement floor. "She looks so peaceful," says the girl with him, admiring the portraits almost, but not entirely, realistic beauty. "Yeah, she does." He replies before looking at her with the smirk of a madman. "Let's wake her up." He dives his hand into the painting. Rather than his hand cracking against the cement, it enters the painting. He grasps the woman's shoulde

In the vast wonderful existence that is the universe, there is a small grouping of land known to all as The Rings Of Akhaten. This area contains a menagerie of magnificent beings of all shapes and sizes, some that are even just coordinated colors. Artist Blue walks through these busy streets, he carries in his hand a hand-sized blue berry, which he happily munches upon. He leans in towards a man who seems to be staring into the distance, he’s clearly a humanoid of some sort. “Excuse me, sir,” says Artist kindly. He looks at the Timelord with a smile. “Sorry, I’m busy right now.” Artist looks around curiously. &