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About Literature / Hobbyist Caitlan Zufelt22/Female/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
Temporary Setbacks
Her mother had always said, "Only worry about the things that can kill you. Everything else is just a temporary setback."
Maral repeated the mantra to herself as she pushed the syringe needle in her arm, releasing Chemical H+ into her bloodstream. Already her surroundings intensified: she could smell the overwhelming stench of sweat that mingled with the sweeter scent of the drug; her hearing amplified until she could pinpoint her friend's muscles shifting from across the room; her vision sharpened and brightened so she could make out every single detail in the near darkness.
With a sigh, she leaned against the wall of the abandoned church. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, passing the hours until their next fix. “How much longer, Anoush?” she whispered, knowing her friend could hear her without having to raise her voice.
“They’re bringing the next shipment before dawn,” Anoush answered, standing and making her way towards Maral. She sat down next to her,
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Literature
Knuckle Bones of a Saint (or Dreamwalker)
The boy clutched rosary beads until his knuckles turned white. He sat in the last pew, listening to a priest shout verses at the congregation. His grandmother was next to him, her hands clasped in prayer. He could hear her slight whispers and felt his heart sink. She was praying for his soul.
Pedro rose and exited the chapel, short stature making it easy to slip away unnoticed. Once the doors closed behind him he let out half a sob. In his twelve years he had never felt as he did in that moment. His own family thought he was some sort of devil. Abuela's doubts had been dispelled by last nights' violent episode.
Taking deep breaths, he started to walk home. His feet stuck in the half mud half dirt road, sandals squelching each time he lifted them. Rain pattered on the thatched roofs of the huts he passed on the small deserted road. Everyone had gathered at the cathedral.
The rain fell heavier as Pedro reached his family's hut. Pushing the door open, he kicked off his mud-caked shoes. Th
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Literature
The New Gods
The humanoid mechanism leading the tour had a nasal, grating voice. "If you look to your left, we are approaching Planet 32X7Y, known to its inhabitants as Earth," it regurgitated, reciting from a scripted code input into its hardware soon after coming off the factory line. As the craft hurtled through space, the passengers crowded to the window, ooh-ing and aah-ing in their respective languages at the planet that came into view.
If the guide had emotions it would be feeling a mixture of boredom and disgust. Only the richest of each species could afford to go on this particular space cruise. Though the android had to admit that this job was better than, say, being a crew member with a red shirt.
"All right, if you've seen enough, please follow me into the debriefing room," it chirped, gesturing at the passengers. It led them away from the sight seeing deck and deeper into the craft. A buzz of excitement could be heard from the crowd as they walked down the hallway, eager to finally get
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Literature
Beware of Dog
Surprisingly, the eight headed monster wasn't the weirdest part of my day. I woke up with a searing headache in a room that resembled a hospital. The lights on the ceiling were blinding. I squinted to look around as my eyes adjusted. Other than the bed I was lying on, there was no other furniture. A solitary door stood in the corner, opposite a crude toilet and sink. After a few moments the sharp pounding in my head lessened into a dull throb. I sat up.
Immediately I could tell something was wrong: the left half of my body felt heavier, more clunky than usual. A cursory glance revealed that my arm and leg had been replaced with limbs made of metal. My throat clenched and my stomach dropped, rebelling at the sight of their metallic sheen. I managed to stumble towards the toilet before vomit came racing up my esophagus. I clenched the side of the basin as shudders wracked my body. The spasms passed and I realized I had been retching bile—my stomach was completely empty. With a sour
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Literature
A Morbid Epiphany
Waking up on a coroner's slab is an ordinary experience for me. Though it generally happens before the autopsy. Not that I mind having a few extra scars, but I dislike jolting upright with a scalpel lodged in my sternum. You should see how fast coroners collapse after watching me rise from the dead.
This one puts the number at 157. Times I've died, I mean. Don't ask me how it started, because I have no idea. The first time it happened I almost had a heart attack and died again. Ha.
Anyway, I go through what I had come to call the "Zombie Routine." I make sure that my body is still intact, flexing my fingers, moving stiff joints, and stretching out muscles. Apart from the initial incision made by the medical examiner, everything seems unscathed, but as I make my way through the checklist, I notice something is missing - the pinky toe of my right foot is gone.
The sensation of wiggling all but a missing appendage is a strange one. Shuddering, I swing my legs onto the floor, clutch
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Literature
A Prickly Situation
Sweat dripped down Rose's back, making her uniform stick to her skin underneath the heat of three suns. She pushed aside a large branch, ducking under the long leaves. Looking over her shoulder, Rose did a quick count to make sure the group she chose to come were still following. This jungle was unfamiliar, easy to get lost in.
"Keep up, guys," she called, stepping over a large root system. "We'll stop and take a break in a few minutes, alright?"
A chorus of grunts and half-hearted affirmatives met her ears, and a small smile came to her lips. It disappeared, though, as she pushed another branch aside. A canyon filled her view, deep enough so she almost couldn't see the river at the bottom. Rose stopped abruptly. Holding up her hand to signal 'stop,' she continued to study the ravine, searching for a way down or across.
Her second in command came to stand beside her. "Commander?" she queried.
"Yes, lieutenant?"
"Some of the group were wondering when we'd get back to the ship; they're t
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Literature
HaikuWriMo 2015
12.
the forest waits
under Winter's frost;
lonely secret
11.
a frenzied river
carves canyons
into centuries
10.
ancient spirits
breathe in tendrils
 of melting spring
9.
dusk drags sleep
behind her, eyelids
drooping
8.
smoke obscures
verdant hills 'neath
the ancient moon
7.
ivy encircles
his sleeping form; a cocoon
to halt Time's passage.
6.
her heart beat slows as
limbs metamorphose into
craggy, furrowed bark
5.
boulder shaped men sit
in a row at the mountains
peak; sentient guards.
4.
sketch lines depict
more beauty in forms
than I could ever see
3.
butterflies poison
ignorant bones; secrets throb
underneath my skin
2.
earthen eyes like night
brush brittle minds into your
fevered universe
1.
gossamer voices
discover supernovae
across brittle storms
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Literature
A Lesson in Escapism
When inspiration escapes thought
and your muse has curled up, catlike,
has given up, taken a hike;
don't just give up, don't be distraught -
go and brave the stormy seas, shoot
into space like an astronaut.
You can't just wait for lightning strikes
when inspiration escapes thought.
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Literature
Silver Tongued Mysteries
That night, when your lips tasted of butterflies,
I discovered supernovae in your eyes.
Your gossamer lashes brush against my skin
and my heart soars like symphonic violins --
but your apocryphal words cloud in my mind
as I realize for so long I have been blind.
I am a panther caged in your desire; weak,
filled with an apathy that makes my bones creak.
The roots connecting me to earth are brittle
as burned wood, a pain that throbs inside my skull.
That night, when your lips tasted of butterflies,
I discovered supernovae in your eyes.
Your gossamer lashes brush against my skin
and my heart soars like symphonic violins.
The sky-trees sing of ignorance in beauty,
telling stories within their aging rings, free.
Their voices twine together in the east wind
and make their way to me, though my eyes are dimmed,
all the way across the ocean. I struggle
away from the abyss that seems so chasmal
while pressing my footprints into silver sand;
trying to leave a permanent mark here, and
that night,
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Literature
Winter Nights
Snow gently resting on the ground
brings the neighborhood kids around.
I sip hot cocoa as I watch
through the window, listening for laughs;
a scene straight from a photograph.
Snowballs thrown and chilly hopscotch
sends me back to the days when I
was young -- observing starry skies
and eating melted butterscotch.
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Literature
Contact Light
There is a shiver along my circuitry when he comes in to check on me. I hear my gears whirr faster, but only for a moment, before my system re-adjusts their speed. I watch him from the corner of my eye, the task before me boring, monotonous, while he is exciting, lively. Lively. I run the word through my processor, its meaning sparking along my wires, slithering between my circuit board. He stops in front of me, glasses falling against the bridge of his nose.
He scribbles something on the clipboard he is holding and I watch as the ligaments and muscles flex in his arm. I rotate my vision down to my own arms, similar in design, but slimmer, more delicate. My shiny copper exterior glints, but I can see the spider web of veins on his skin. They pulse with vitality and intensity.
I remind myself that I only have circuits, wires, gears, metals. He looks into my line of vision, eyes blinking as he pushes his glasses up.
"C9, how are you functioning today?"
I run a systems diagnostic, careful
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Literature
handfuls of memories
your eyes are the gray of the clouds
when they cover the sun after a storm;
your words washing up on the skyline
of my towering city at night, a message
in a bottle only to be read by me.
ignoring gravity, i've recklessly
spilled the secret lives of shadows
to a piece of paper just for you
and buried them with the ocean.
since that day i'm the hunted;
for they want to make buttons
out of my traitor bones.
i am standing on the edge of a mountain,
watching as my carrousel dreams float away.
they dissolve into smoke and are consumed
by the eyes of night. my paperweight
soul tears as each piece disappears.
misguided ghosts
is what they are, trying to fool me
into an urban maze of skylines and
turnstiles. bad blood is what they
doomed my soul, but i'll keep on running.
i will not forsake you; not even when
my skin is smothering me.
but i am chasing after the sky in a futile
attempt to be your knight in shining armor,
a glint of blue ice running uphill unceasingly.
a never-ending battle to u
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Literature
Terroir
I saved the important stuff;
the scarf-blanket you knit me
before your fingers quit working,
your favorite book with its
    w  o  r  n  p  a  g  e  s
and
    f a d e d w o r d s.
I saved your smile and the way your
lips look when you say my name.
I filed them away with good
intentions, missed opportunities,
and wishes, and placed everything
in a jar, to keep for a rainy day
like the ones you used to love
        (like the me you used to love).
But the way your skin felt floats
away on the wind,
                         like your words
of farewell on the last day I saw you.
    I can't remember the shape of
your face, the angle of your lips,
the p r e c i s e way you wouldn't let
go of your
          twisted
accent.
I can't      
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Literature
swallow the universe
decay remembers you --
fever breath and ocean-eyed ghosts,
secrets that smoke with poison desire.
we wake only to drink, to devour
the naked voices of dismantled stars.
glass kisses turn into granite lips
and pillars of salt; a haunted embrace
melts into the cracks of the universe.
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Literature
Picturesque
The smell of the fire curls in my lungs, purring
like a tabby kitten. Roasting marshmallows
crisp on the ends of our sticks as I lean
against you, our heat mingling like the smoke
rising to the sky. Your eyes twinkle as you talk,
your hands gesturing widely, and the marshmallow
flies into the woods. We clutch our stomachs
as we laugh in harmony, our voices twining
together in the silence of the night.
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Literature
The Beginning of the End
it started with Greed.
She wrapped Her tentacles around their minds,
digging deep into their psyche and corrupting them.
it started with Lust.
He slipped unnoticed into their corrupt brains,
reaching down into their hearts and twisting them.
it started with Pride.
He appeared inside their twisted cores,
pumping His poison through their bodies.
it ended with Wrath.
She took control of their very beings,
forcing the gun to their head and pulling the trigger.
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Favourites

Literature
Not a Robot
“Magic is a complex chemical reaction. It is created by a combination of genetic, chemical, and environmental variables. It can be replicated. I have mastered the technique. I have submitted the application for membership.”
The League of Sorcerers erupted in a chorus of protests. I analyzed each voice and filed them separately for later study. The strongest protest came from the Master of Ceremonies, a sallow faced man with a long beard. I retrieved the identfiles to address him by name. Human beings are particular about their monikers.
“Only when I am cast into the fiery pits of Zandara's Hel will this abomination be allowed to walk among the sacred halls,” Master Henry Boyle said. He tugged on his beard.
“I have no record of Zandara or Zandara's Hel,” I said, “I request clarification.”
“You are not welcome here, robot,” Mistress Cassandra Starlight said. She attempted to manipulate the atmosphere around me with a formula I h
:iconNamelessShe:NamelessShe
:iconnamelessshe:NamelessShe 240 185
Literature
try to leave no traces when you go
bury me in the folds of first-and-only-love
line my coffin with ribbons of photos soaked in rose-tinted nostalgia
poor strange, fleeting thing-
let distant memories be a fitting eulogy,
tombstone rooted deep in my crumbling hometown where no one will lay flowers at its stony feet
i left my heart in minnesota;
allowed its ashes to kiss lake superior and get swept up in the current
this death has come in waves
the sun can't reach me six feet underground
i have been cold, blue-lipped for months
:iconsingagainsoon:singagainsoon
:iconsingagainsoon:singagainsoon 5 5
Literature
what's on your mind
I want your thoughts and 
if I can have them, I will
line them up in my window so
I can absorb you each morning
through the dawn's rays.
I want your thoughts, all
day long, awake and dreaming
'til they leave you in my heart
where you find something
worth the keeping of.
:iconhypermagical:hypermagical
:iconhypermagical:hypermagical 12 1
Star Wars: Past and Present by daekazu Star Wars: Past and Present :icondaekazu:daekazu 8,039 267 Star Wars: Princess Leia + General Leia by daekazu Star Wars: Princess Leia + General Leia :icondaekazu:daekazu 4,942 177
Literature
denial
we made makeshift constellations of the lights winking playfully on the skyline
st paul city star-substitutes
hello, uptown,
while she was slinking to our bed,
soft in careful thief-feet
and you gripped a knife behind your back,
fingers long and sharp and talons ready to pull my heart from my chest
but i wrapped myself in the cloak you wore,
in ignorance stinking freshly of new betrayal,
banishing the shape of the creature that was devouring me
from the inside out
:iconsingagainsoon:singagainsoon
:iconsingagainsoon:singagainsoon 4 0
Brothers by Meemzer Brothers :iconmeemzer:Meemzer 44 20 He will come for us - Zoe Saldana as Uhura by AuroraWienhold He will come for us - Zoe Saldana as Uhura :iconaurorawienhold:AuroraWienhold 218 2 2016 NaNoWriMo Calendar by Kiriska 2016 NaNoWriMo Calendar :iconkiriska:Kiriska 38 10 Screenshot Redraw by DAV-19 Screenshot Redraw :icondav-19:DAV-19 8,305 0
Journal
Stress-Free NaNoWriMo
Hello you lovely people;
It's almost November and you know what that means: NaNoWriMo! :la:
Yes, it's that month when you, forsaken souls, take on the challenge of writing 50k words and in the process have the irresistible urges of head banging against a wall, smashing a keyboard or two, or calling it quits.
Now hold it right there, before you burn everything to the ground, take a deep breath. Stress, anxiety, meltdowns are rather common with NaNoWriMo, but fear not! We're here with some tips to help you breeze through November and hopefully, reach your goal.
Before November
:bulletred:Plan your month. You don't have to plan all of it, but at least get a grip of what you can and can't do as well as draft up some schedules, timelines, organize your time properly. You're gonna need those minutes :stare:  
:bulletred:Track how you spend your time, see how much time you spend on social media. Approximately, you will need 2-3h of writing per day to get to your goal. So go, what
:iconMythiril:Mythiril
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There is No Shepard Without Vakarian by zetallis There is No Shepard Without Vakarian :iconzetallis:zetallis 1,661 57
Literature
sleepy sparrow, sing
                        sleepy sparrow,
                                                 take wing:
a squawk, a hop, and a blip
from the starting point
of your life
blue skies wait for no bird
stuck in the midst of preening;
no, no, listen:
the clouds taunt you
soft and sure of themselves,
hard and harsh in their ideas of you
let them warble
what they may,
pay dipping beaks no mind
let go the bough of fear,
sparrow sweet
unlace the vines that bind
and soar
                      and swoop
                                              and sing
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages 26 6
Journal
From Super Speed to Slow-Mo - Style and Pacing
Use Writing Style to Control Your Story's Pace




By :iconc-a-harland: C-A-Harland and :iconilluminara: illuminara
Last time, we talked about the big things that affect the pace of your story, but now we’re going to focus on some of the smaller details the control the pace of your narrative in a bigger way than you might realize. Everything from sentence structure to dialogue influence pace on a micro level, so they’re important to consider while you’re crafting prose. This is because your writing style is the lens through with your readers experience the story. It’s the user interface design of storytelling, and you don’t want to turn people off to a great story because of bad design--instead, you want it draw them in and make their experience all the more pleasant.
Here are some ways to use the narrative elements of your writing to both speed up the pace of your story as well as t
:iconC-A-Harland:C-A-Harland
:iconc-a-harland:C-A-Harland 34 10

Groups

Taking A Hiatus (+more)

Thu Mar 24, 2016, 6:53 PM
So a few of you have probably noticed that I haven't been active on this site since the turn of the year. I lost my job in January and I've been in a funk ever since. I haven't been writing, so I haven't been coming onto DA. I've decided to call it an official hiatus so that peeps know where I've gone.

Ironically, that means I'm going to need someone to take over LiteraryCemetary for me, full time. I will still be coming onto the site every so often to check on things and answer people's comments, and maybe even post something if I start writing again, but I don't have enough energy to manage anything larger than that. If you can take over, let me know.

Love you all, and see you soon.

:heart: lion-essrampant

+more


I've changed my username. Why, you may ask? I still like my previous moniker, but I've changed a LOT since I started calling myself DrippingWords. I've done a lot of growing up, and become a happier person who is more comfortable in my skin and with my identity. I wanted my username to show that. I recently started re-reading THE SONG OF THE LIONESS by Tamora Pierce again for the first time since middle school, and I forgot how much I used to, and still do, identify with the main character, Alanna. So I assumed her title, the Lioness Rampant. I'd like to think it better reflects my inner strength.

Also. I chopped off my hair, got a nose ring, and a whole new wardrobe. :XD: Here's a pic of how cute I am now:

Image by lion-essrampant

Love always, lion-essrampant 

skin made by Miracat
flower pattern from www.freedomcertainty.com/

deviantID

lion-essrampant's Profile Picture
lion-essrampant
Caitlan Zufelt
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Caitlan Zufelt is a writer from Idaho. She has been writing for fifteen years and still isn’t sure if author statements should be written in third or first person, so defaults to the prior. It makes her feel like a character from a Shakespeare play. A few of her other hobbies are sleeping, eating, and generally just existing. Caitlan enjoys watching television shows and reading books, and becomes unnaturally attached to fictional characters, especially ones she creates for video games. Her current guilty pleasure is playing Dragon Age until the dark hours of the night. She usually regrets it in the morning.
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconsinistrosephosphate:
SinistrosePhosphate Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Greetings, 

Thank you very much for the llama badge. I appreciate the gesture very much! I believe one good turn deserve another, so please receive one from me in return! 

With gratitude,
Reply
:iconlion-essrampant:
lion-essrampant Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome, and thanks!
Reply
:iconsinistrosephosphate:
SinistrosePhosphate Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
You're more than welcome! :) 
Reply
:iconblacklacedminx:
BlackLacedMinx Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2016  Student Writer
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LLAMA BADGE! ^W^
Reply
:icontheenigmamachine:
TheEnigmaMachine Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks a bunch for the llama! I will return the favor! :D
Reply
:iconnamco-nintendofan-88:
Namco-NintendoFan-88 Featured By Owner Edited Jul 30, 2016  Student Traditional Artist
HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY, but 3 TIMES, Caitlan Zufelt, a.k.a. "lion-essrampant," dear hobbyist, traditional artist, 'n literaturist friend! Hug
Singing Singing Singing Singing Dance! Dance! Boogie! Boogie! Party Airborne

Good luck three times, and I hope you'll have a great b-day today!
And once again, keep up the good work on all awesome hobbies, traditional art, drawings, paintings, 'n literature writings; I love 'em! ;) (Wink) Heart
Thumbs Up Pringles Have your cake and eat it too Yummy pie!

Comments by:
Nelson C.,
"N.N.F.88"
4:25 P.M.
Los Angeles, CA ;) (Wink)

Since I got you the two anime muro drawings, which are the chibi Haruhi 'n Mikuru drawings last year, I got you another extra muro drawing copy, so...
SURPRISE #2;
Believe it or not, another birthday muro drawing copy I made of the birthday feet wishing you one, so, wishes 'n' luck!
Click on it:
muro00.deviantart.net/d9e2/z/2…
Reply
:iconjasperinity:
Jasperinity Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016
Happy birthday! :D
Reply
:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday, lovely. :heart:
Reply
:icontaylornicolereed:
TaylorNicoleReed Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!! Birthday cake  icon 
Reply
:iconlarathain:
Larathain Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016
Happy birthday! May it be a day of perfect weather and joyful bliss! One you'll enjoy to often offer reminisce.
Reply
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