Daily Literature Deviations for August 13th, 2012

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Daily Lit Deviations for August 13th, 2012

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!

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Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!

:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one

of your pieces featured by DLD please note pullingcandy.

We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article. :pointl:

Poetry

Featured by: Carmalain7

To describe a storm through the subtleties of one's

surroundings - rather than the existence of the storm itself,

as so oft is done - makes this piece a unique, personal,

homely, and overall refreshing read.

Featured by:  betwixtthepages

It is difficult, at times, to be sure if we're awake in a topsy-turvy reality...

or if we're only dreaming.  IntelligentZombie blends the two

seamlessly with this beautiful rhyming piece, challenging readers

to think about their dreams.  If your nightmares became

your reality, what would you do?

Prose

Featured by xlntwtch

Looking UpAaron fumed.
It was his day off, and here he was at work anyway, two hours to close. He hated training people, but tomorrow was a big day, and he would pay for it in the long run if he put it off. He had been home alone, wasting time, but the principle of it still bothered him. He practically lived here these days.
He exited the car and slammed the door. Then he noticed a young man, probably a college student, standing at the edge of the parking lot. He was on the grass, looking straight up at the night sky. A full moon gleamed overhead.
In his funk, Aaron had forgotten the full moon! It almost always cheered him up. He smiled and called out to the stranger, "Hope I didn't disturb you."
There was no response, and Aaron stopped to stare at the full moon for a while himself. He felt better. He laughed, remembering his childhood experiment to see how long it took for the full moon to turn him into a werewolf. He had been a weird kid, and proud of it.
"It's beautiful, but it doesn't do any

Humorous flash fiction about the disappointment

one man feels during the full moon. Concise writing

completes this commentary in a few fun, clear and imaginative words.

Featured by: SilverInkblot

An Ode to My iPhoneOh, iPhone, how I miss thee. You were stolen out of my handbag at a cruddy mall with seedy characters and cheap shoes.
I still have thousands of pesos left to pay on you, but really, that's not the point.
I miss the crack across your screen, a mysterious occurrence that my father never explained. I miss the way the tobacco from my cigarettes would find their way into your crevices and the hours I spent trying to clean them out, with dubious results. I miss my oily fingermarks on your screen and the furious wiping that ensued whenever I got a chance. I miss the way you always smelled like beer, mainly cause I kept spilling it on you. I do apologize for the treatment I gave you. You were like the boyfriend I could kick around and put away whenever I wanted.
I even miss the way you turn my most innocent texts into something dangerous--as if Apple somehow programmed you to think inappropriately. I miss how you run out of battery at the most crucial times--leaving me stranded and incommunic

A silly homage to Man's Best Friend: the one and only iPhone.

Featured by xlntwtch

The Rainfall KidThere are raindrops on his fingers—a glistening cluster of perfectly silver droplets that read like some shining, ethereal roadway map—the night that he comes for her with the thunder of a summer storm rolling forward on his footsteps. The low rumble of it jolts her from a book induced slumber, the cover rough beneath hands and the jumble of last-read letters blurring on the underside of blinking eyelids as rain begins to fall. Although it's almost been longer than memory will allow, she knows that there is no mistaking the sudden upheaval of the outside world for anything other than his arrival—after all, it hasn't stormed in years.
          Soon enough, her shoulders and the soles of her bare feet are collecting water along with the hardback that had slipped, forgotten, through outstretched fingers—now laying broken-spined with white pages exposed and its words all bleeding together in thin rivers of smudged ink. The leafless trees seem to shudder, emerging from

While drought occurs in much of the world,

this piece tells us about a kid "...with raindrops on his fingers."

This is very fine prose that ends in an unexpected way.

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Prepared by: SilverInkblot

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Sammur-amat's avatar
Amazing feature, as always! :squee: