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About Literature / Hobbyist JessFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Literature
A Spaceman Came Travelling
It was the smell of mince pies that greeted Kahj when he walked through the front door after a long day at work on December 1st. Once the door had slid closed behind him he removed his cap and his mask, setting them down on the kitchen counter, and inhaled the pleasant scent of baking pastry and sweet fruits. He loved being home.
‘Hello?’
In fact Kahj regarded himself as a remarkably lucky young man. His job with the Federation both challenged him and paid well, and it didn’t hurt that his uniform had the tendency to make his wife go a little weak in the knees – he was almost certain it was his uniform he and Cynthia had to thank for Sirius.
‘Cynthia is feeding the twins.’ His AI, Akin, said, appearing in miniature on the little holopad upon the counter.
Kahj nodded, giving his arms and tentacles a stretch, and glanced towards the stairs.
   
‘And Sirius?’
   
The pattering of approaching feet answered him faster than
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Literature
And They Lived | Prologue
‘Once upon a time,’
‘Do all of them begin that way?’ Faith asks me, her voice not quite a whisper. She’s so close to me I can feel her body heat and the air between us stirs each time she breathes out, but I am used to her closeness; the two of us have shared a bed since she was old enough to sleep in one.
 
‘All what?’
 
‘All stories. Do they all begin that way or is it only yours?’ she says, smiling in the early morning light that has snuck beneath the shutters on our window, illuminating the patches of skin it can reach in a white glow. The lit candle on our bedside table turns her yellow hair into spun gold. She looks ethereal, almost untouchable, and to reassure myself she isn’t about to fade away I nudge her shin with my toe, my lips twisting into something that’s almost a smile when she flinches and grins. Our feet are always cold in this bed.
 
‘If you find my stories boring, I do not have to
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Mature content
Athens :iconthemoormaiden:TheMoorMaiden 3 6
Literature
Beam Me Up
Kahj knew more about Earth now than he used to, but some areas of Earth’s culture still baffled him. Since the beginning of October – not the eighth Earth-month, as the name suggested, but the tenth, just in case humans weren’t confusing enough already – Cynthia had spoken of hardly anything but ‘Hello-ween’; a holiday in which Earthlings dressed up and harassed their neighbours for food.
‘Is that not burglary?’ he asked her once.
‘No,’ she’d laughed. ‘It’s fun! Remember fun? You have it sometimes.’
Yes. He liked having fun, and it was easy to have with Cynthia around; even easier now they had Sirius. Their little boy ran on a constant supply of energy, Kahj had no idea where he got it from, but he did know that children weren’t born with an off switch. Evolution, he supposed, hadn’t gotten quite that far yet.
Sirius was four now – the time had flown, Kahj could remember holding him fo
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Literature
Wenlock Edge
but the hole
split
the ground.
squirrels have been
rattling; some
fall into neglect.
however, there is
a feeling of freedom.
I peer into the hole:
darkness;
sanctuary.
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Literature
Bald Agnes
They slaughtered me, burned
me, to rid the earth of me.
But I wander still.
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Literature
we can learn to love again
It’s Maisie who finds me at the end of the day, tucked away in a secret corner like a coward. I think she understands better than anyone else why discovering my father is still alive after all this time hasn’t filled me with joy; she used to have daddy issues of her own.
   
For a little while she just sits next to me and the silence is comfortable. I’ve always liked that about her. It’s only when I glance across at her, offering her a small smile, that she says:
   
“How are you feeling?”
   
I shrug.
   
“Dunno,” I murmur, sighing. “I know everyone else thinks I should be celebrating-”
   
“Screw what everyone else thinks.” She bluntly interrupts. I smile.
   
“It’s just… It’s difficult.” I explain. “I ran away from home when I was fifteen, so the last time I had an actual conversation with my dad was about five years
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Literature
Chinese Whispers
“Where’s Ben tonight?” Dash asks, feeling more than seeing his breath cloud in the night air. He rubs his palms together, blowing on his fingertips, in an attempt to warm up.
   
“Dunno,” Day, his brother, shrugs. “When I asked him where he was going he was pretty secretive about it. Maybe he’s meeting a girl.”
   
“Well if you spot a love bite tomorrow you’ll know you were right.”
     
The two crouch low by the road side, well hidden by the foliage and their choice of dark clothes. They’ve been living outside the law since they were small boys. Spending the night waiting in the cold is something they are well accustomed to.
   
“Do you think that’s where vampires come from?” Day asks, not bothering to drop his voice to a whisper. They’ve worked this road before and they know they only need to be silent when they can hear the sound of approaching hooves, right now all they can hear is the c
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Literature
Morning Person
“Jon your sister’s going to be here in an hour, you need to get up,” Iris said, watching the lump in Jon’s bed from the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a disc in the other. Jon merely grunted and Iris rolled her eyes, smiling a wry little smile. Jon was an excellent brother, this was something Iris had seen for herself, but he was a terrible morning person. “You asked for it.” She murmured, crossing to the stereo on the other side of his room, stepping over piles of creased clothes and the odd dirty plate, while he continued to snore into his pillow.
   
If there was one thing Jon loved more than anything else it was music. His stereo sat on top of a desk of drawers, surrounded with CDs, memorabilia and even a few neatly stacked vinyl discs: Guns N’ Roses, The Beatles, Crash Test Dummies, Nightwish, Aerosmith, Within Temptation, Lacuna Coil… The list went on. He was very proud of his music collection. Ther
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Literature
Unchained Melody
The thought came to Jon just as he bit into his toast. Iris sat beside him on the couch, legs comfortably pillowed in his lap as per usual as she watched the news. He tilted his head to one side and observed her thoughtfully, swallowing before he said:
“Have you ever had sex to The Righteous Brothers?”
The bored, tired look she sent him was priceless.
“You’re an idiot.”
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Literature
Scouting
I wait for Izzy beside one of the windows. When the sun shines through it I can make out dust suspended in shafts of light and, for some reason, it calms me, like it takes me back to a simpler time when scouting for survivors or savages was unheard of.
   
The carpet’s rough but warm in the sunshine and there’s a comforting heat on the back of my neck. Maisie sits cross-legged beside me, and the warmth from the sun combined with the rhythmic zing as she sharpens her blade makes my eyelids droop.
   
I didn’t sleep as well as I would have liked last night; a group of us took turns to watch over Maisie just in case her fever flared up again. She should be coming with me today to scout the surrounding area – it’s usually the two of us – but she’s only just getting better. She tried to insist she was well enough but there’s still an unnatural redness to her cheeks that needs to be gone before the rest of us feel comfortabl
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Literature
Best Served Cold
If there was one thing the children of Lancaster knew for sure it was that where one Allerdice went, another soon followed. So perhaps Bonnie Peterson should have known better than to push Roland Allerdice into the mud one summer afternoon.
   
She smirked at the little boy, hands on her hips, while he glared up at her from the filth. A humiliated blush spread from his cheeks down to his collarbone, and while he didn’t appreciate being embarrassed in front of Bonnie and her entire circle of friends his main worry was the scolding he’d receive from his mother when she saw the state of his clothes.
   
The laughing ceased with a collective gasp from Bonnie’s friends, as though they were trying to suck the laughter back into their lungs, and Bonnie whirled around. Thora Allerdice stood between them, completely still aside from the curls of her red hair which were caught in the breeze, and stared. There was nothing threatening in either her stance or h
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Actor Meme by TheMoorMaiden Actor Meme :iconthemoormaiden:TheMoorMaiden 0 9
Literature
Bleeding Out
Claws swiped, blood sprayed the sand, and the lamia cheered. Priya despised afternoons like this one, when the oldest of her dear husband’s children fought against one another to display their skills and prove themselves worthy of their father’s affections.
   
The two fighting now, in a circle of Madrona’s grand gardens created by onlookers, were both boys, one fifteen and the other eight; it was the eight year old who lay on the sand with three fresh welts across his cheek, spitting out blood and a tooth onto the ground. His little body trembled with the shock of the attack and above him the fifteen year old laughed, barely a scratch on him.
   
Aricin liked to have an array of silken cushions littered about his golden chair, upon each of which sat one of his wives – aside from Danica, of course. As head wife she also had a chair of her own.
   
The younger child flashed a pleading look towards his mother, one of the twelve other wives who happened to b
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Literature
Flight
Today had not gone at all how Eddie had planned. Of course if she was perfectly honest with herself she’d never expected to have a day like this one. Ever. Everything she’d worked so hard for crumbled to pieces in mere moments and now she was on the other side of the law that she’d always so faithfully served, trying to help a bleeding thief through the woods in the dark without slipping on any of the foliage.
   
Raindrops – fat and freezing – pelted them like bullets, adding extra sodden weight to their clothes and chilling Eddie to the bone; her breaths clouded in front of her and the muscles in her thighs trembled. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears but she couldn’t stop, she could only hold a firm arm around Ben’s waist and avoid the trees. Neither of them could stop. The soldiers would have released the hounds by now and judging by the warm, tacky blood she could feel on her fingers from Ben’s wound they wouldn’t be hard to sni
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Literature
Tax
At the end of each month, when the moon is high in the sky, Nataya Black and her family sit in a dark corner of their home and wait for the screams.
   
This month is no different.
She huddles close to her father and searches for his hand in the dark. His clammy palm clings tightly to her own, the sound of their shallow breaths is all she can hear. Her brother Ailill, though sickly and weak, stays silent despite the fear she can feel in his tense muscles; he, like all children here, has long since learned that sobbing never prevents the carnage. She holds him close between her chest and her bent knees and brushes a kiss into his fair hair.
   
There is nobody alive now who can remember how or why the lamia began to do this. There was an old folktale which spoke of a duel between a human lord and a lamia prince many years ago. When the lord struck off the prince's head there was no going back to living in peace. Nobody quite knew if the story was true but one thing was certain: lamia ne
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Literature
these words could never fill me up
you see me with my
napkin at the ready,
fists clenched with fork and knife,
so you bring out the appetizer
and then conveniently
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Literature
This Little Thing I Have Will Save Us All.
The first round of patient zeroes came out of Fiji or Vanuatu or one of those other atolls in the middle of the Pacific, but it wasn’t more than an hour later that flesh was being eaten in Australia, Indonesia and China, and it continued spreading west.  People in Montreal didn’t begin to panic at first because all air traffic was halted and the coastlines were fiercely guarded for any ships coming our way.  We all thought that the east would be lost forever, but we would continue to thrive.
Then they washed up in the surf, eating their way through Florida and spreading from there.  The zeroes seemed to take better to the Americas than the rest of the world, probably because all of the trees were the perfect cover from the sun.  That was their one weakness, after all.  The government began to endorse setting up UV lamps everywhere, harping that they only come out at night.  We all changed our sleeping habits within a week, keeping watch
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Literature
bipolar.
after they diagnosed my father,
my mother told me,
if she had known,
she would have never had children.
it scares me to think that,
eventually,
one day i could hear a small voice saying,
“mommy, i don’t feel right.”
--
“you don’t look sick,”
they say, noticing that i’m not dragging around
an i.v. stand.
noticing that my sweatshirt is black
and not a white hospital gown
swinging around marbled, knocking knees.
“but i’m still unwell,” i say
in a voice that doesn’t shake
and they just look disappointed,
like i don’t fit.
like i’m the skewed painting
on the fucked-up-person wall.
--
“but,” they say, “don’t bipolar people
usually kill themselves?”
“but i tried,” i say
with my wrists unmarked
and they just shake their heads
almost as if to say
not hard enough.
--
“poor girl,” they say, looking right at me,
sitting next to my dad as he laughs too loud.
the
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Journal
Weekly Round-up!
This week saw the introduction of our "Graphic Novels" folder,  so if you haven't done so already, browse the new rules and have your say!
This Week's Features
:star:
BandB: The Trial by TheMoorMaiden
All hope seems lost as Jane is led to her trial: a Witch-ducking from which she has little chance of escaping
A well-written segment from the story of Jane Ask - accused witch of Lancaster. This segment in particular uses a lot of clever writing techniques that will surprise and shock you, introducing realistic and deep characters and dragging you beside Jane to experience her harrowing ordeal.
:star:
cherry trees by coup-de-coeur
"i was born 4425 miles away from here / in a country rich with history"
A poem about the abandonment of culture and the loss of identity many immigrants feel so far away from t
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Literature
Gravity
Acorn strikes Chicken.
Little misunderstanding ensues.
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:iconwritersink: :iconlitguilduk: :iconthe-asterismos: :iconthebackofthebook:
  • Listening to: Stars - Simply Red
  • Reading: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë
  • Watching: Dickensian
I keep meaning to be more active here and I keep failing, only to stop by to check on my notifications and find myself with a Daily Deviation suggested by the lovely ThornyEnglishRose and featured by the lovely BeccaJS - thank you very, very much, and thank you to everyone who has a left a kind word or added the poem to their favourites. Tight Hug 

CharlotteEmily dreamt
of Heathcliff in that
very chair,
Anne found herself
in Agnes
by the window
over there,
and Mr Rochester bled
from Branwell's
screams on the stair.
I love this room
as my brother loved
his drink. It damages
that which remains
of this family
to be so surrounded
by memories
of those we
ache to see.
Father writes letters
next door, and I
long for my sisters;
the missing parts
of me.
Even now
I imagine their
ghostly footsteps
mimicking my own.
I try to remember
Emily's curls and
Anne's sweet smile;
the way they walked
around our home.
It scares me
that I can picture
neither, for both
are now beneath
stone.
And so
I go on walking,
walking on alone.


When I joined dA eleven years ago (God I'm old) I never thought I'd get a Daily Deviation and now I have two under my belt, both for work written in 2012. :ponder: Maybe 2012 was a good year. Like a fine wine. Admittedly, I look back at both those pieces now and cringe - they could be so much better if I wrote them now - but I guess the point of creating things is to get down how you feel in that moment, and at that moment that was the best work I could put out and I'm going to be proud of it. If someone else has gotten something out of reading it then I can't ask for anything more.

I'm trying to make myself write more regularly, and lately I feel like it's something I have been doing more of. I'm still working on the Fantasy of Manners novella, Georgia and the Dragons, I mentioned in my previous journal - I made really good progress with it at the start of Camp NaNoWriMo, then mid-way through July I went on holiday to Disneyland Paris and ended up falling ill while I was out there. When I got back to the UK I had to spend a night in hospital so I could have some antibiotics pumped straight into my arm which wasn't how I'd planned to spend my Saturday night, but I ended up chatting to some lovely ladies on the ward and we watched The Hobbit together. I hope they're both much better now.

I really do want to be more active on here, this is my firm reminder that there's still a thriving lit community here on dA and I've missed being a part of it.

I hope you're all doing well. :heart:

deviantID

TheMoorMaiden
Jess
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
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:iconinkyrose:
InkyRose Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday- have a wonderful day! :D :D :D
Reply
:iconthemoormaiden:
TheMoorMaiden Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, my dear! :D
Reply
:iconrjbg:
RJBG Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2017
Great work!
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:iconthemoormaiden:
TheMoorMaiden Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconrjbg:
RJBG Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2017
Welcome!
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:iconsaylem:
saylem Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so so much for the fave!!! :happybounce: Hug 
Reply
:iconthemoormaiden:
TheMoorMaiden Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome! Aww 
Reply
:iconmensjedezeemeermin:
MensjeDeZeemeermin Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2016
It should happen that you find this day the start of one of the most marvelous years in your memory, joyous and profitable.  Growth of the best kind, in wisdom, skill, knowledge and joyous memory should and must take place.  Your smiles should become more frequent and easier, your sighs cushioned with rueful humor, those who know you should note your growing happiness and rejoice thereby.  Take the fond good wishes of those privileged to know you, even if just a little, and use them to build a fortress of smiles around your best ideals and happiest dreams.  May you always remember the days to come with joy and celebration, and may this be a very happy example of a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Reply
:iconthemoormaiden:
TheMoorMaiden Featured By Owner Nov 3, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! :D
Reply
:iconinkyrose:
InkyRose Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday- have a wonderful day! :D
Reply
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