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Daily Lit Deviations for March 18^th, 2012

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by ing this News Article.
Please comment and the features and congratulate the artists!


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.

Poetry

_{Suggested by betwixtthepages
Featured by LiliWrites}
:thumb289538828:
The Dream Peddlers by GiantShadows

<sub>Per the suggester: A visual literature
piece, this poem strives to push readers out
of the theoretical "box" they often live within
and consider a different point of view.  Who
are the dream peddlers?  We might never know...
But they are here to flavor our sleeping nights
with the visions they live with in their waking days.


Featured by: Nichrysalis</sub>

Into the Light by jswebb

<sub>The fixed form used here is refreshing,
masterfully woven, and was created by the
writer! Enjoy this nested villanelle by
jswebb, or write one yourself.


Featured by: LadyofGaerdon</sub>

"Stealing Wednesday" by RussianTim

_{This poem feels like a warm spring
breeze, fresh with hope and possibilities.}

Prose

_{Featured by shebledgreenink}
Andrew     Andrew knows four languages and doesn't speak a word of any. His talents are carving pumpkins, washing windows, caring. His fault is caring too much. He cares too much when I don't wear jackets and when I get my feet wet and when I don't talk. He cared when he held my hand and I let him and he cared when he kissed me and I didn't kiss him back. I don't know what he cares about now. Andrew is dead.
     He died two days ago and now his picture populates the papers, the television. It's a picture of him in the hospital, smiling at his mom. She's curled tightly in a metal chair beside him, face turned away. The doctor stands at the end of the bed, his head thrown back, a chuckle trapped in his throat. Andrew is too skinny, dark body outlined against the white sheets of the bed.
     Three days ago they told us over the announcements that Andrew was scheduled to come home within a week.
    
Andrew by laurnie

<sub>This little snippet of matter-of-fact
narration is just enough to intrigue, a
toe-dip into a pool of something much larger.


Featured by doodlerTM</sub>
It's There When You Aren't LookingEliza slapped her library card on to the faux-wood counter. "I want this one!"
Patrons usually rang the little silver bell when no one was attending to the checkout, but Eliza couldn't see it; the bell was kept out of the reach of five year olds for a reason. She was about to yell again when the librarian bustled around the corner; the autographed Hemingway would have to wait.
"Well hello dearie. Don't you look cute in your karate uniform."
Eliza squeezed her doll in one arm and put the other one on her hip. "I want that one," she said pointing to the book while tossing her blonde ringlets.
"Quantum Immortality," the librarian read. "An Observational Study of Universal Mechanations. Are you sure you want this one love?"
"I want that one!"
"Well alright then," she scanned the idle card. Then scanned it again just to be sure.
"I'm afraid you can't have this one dearie."
"Why?"
"Is your mother nearby?"
"Why?"
"Well it says here," she indicated the screen. "That your card has a thirty doll
It's There When You Aren't Looking by SilverInkblot

_{A quaint little story built heavily
on dialogue that makes the reader question
the innocence of little children.}




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~ The DailyLitDeviations Team ~


_{Prepared by: spoems}