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About Literature / Artist Mad scribblerMale/Denmark Recent Activity
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Literature
Chosen
"Unbelievable." Martin thought. He was going to be late for the trial. Running out of gas in the middle of a forest a mere twenty-four hours after filling the tank was just not fair. At all. Somebody had siphoned it out – that had to be it. Nobody could be trusted around anything anymore. As if that wasn't enough, he had left his cell phone at home. Martin kicked the tire of his BMW in frustration before putting his hands behind his head and trying to take in his surroundings. He had seen a house on a hill before driving up the tiny forest road on advice of his navigation system.  Gathering his coat and briefcase, he locked the car and set out on the forest road in the misty November air.
Mud caked his Italian shoes and he swore under his breath at the freezing moisture which slowly seeped through his socks. Gradually realizing that the fog had made him lose his bearings, he stopped and put his briefcase on the ground. Piles of papers relating to his defence regarding se
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Literature
The Butterfly
I am flying.
Flying with my arms outstretched across an endless sea of rippling grass. The wind howls in my ears, as I descend. My face is inches from the grass. The warm air rushes through my hair and my nostrils fill with the scent of flowers and warm dirt. A butterfly darts past my ear. I move fast and only see a flash of blue. I move too fast. I stop flying. The green blur below rushes towards me and gives way. It dissapears and gives way to brilliant blue. I shoot through the warm water like an arrow and zoom along the white bottom. I slow my pace and notice the flickering spots of light that dance across the bottom, across the back of my hands and across the great batoidea that lazily crosses my path. The water becomes shallow and my head breaks the surface. I walk onto the beach – my hair and clothes dry, my stride unbroken by the water. A wall of lush green is in front of me. Palms, bushes, shrubs and great, colourful flowers. I walk through the foliage and the jungle open
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Literature
Untitled
What time is it?
Its pitch black outside, and the only noise in the apartment is the irregular clicking of my typewriter. I don’t recall the last time I ate. Apart from the typewriter, the only things in front of me are an ashtray, a pile of paper and a half empty bottle of scotch. It was full this morning.
It seems all I do is type until I pass out with my head on the table, only to do it all over again when I awake. I don’t know exactly how long it has been, but I feel thick stubble when I touch my face. I have no mirror and wouldn’t want to look in it if I did.
The poetry flows freely onto the paper – an endless stream of words, images and sensations. The pages that are spit from the mouth of the machine pile up next to me. I shall burn them as I burned all the others, once the stack gets high enough. The ashes in the fireplace the only testimony to their existence. None of this shall ever appear before the eyes of anybody but me. The thought that through removin
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Literature
Big Game Hunting
”This is taking too long.”
Stranton pulled his black trench coat closer around himself and tucked his visored cap a bit firmer on his head. The inlaid gold threads and emblem on its front, declaring him an officer of the secret police with the honorary title of Grand Hunter, gleaming slightly in the faint light that fell from the streetlamp six metres away. The lamp was almost muffled by the many specks of white snow that whirled past it in the icy night wind, each flake rushing through the cone of illumination before tumbling onwards through the darkness.
He gazed discontently at the darkened sky, and the lamp cast deep shadows in his hollow cheeks.
“The Intel was clear. We’ll get a green light soon, im sure.” Gelbstein answered his partner, while checking his datapad. It was every bit as late as it felt, but he didnt want to call attention to it. Stranton always tensed before a kill, and Gelbstein knew it. Eight years of hunting down illegally enhanced indivi
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New ID by ChristianII New ID :iconchristianii:ChristianII 1 10
Literature
Crane's War - Chapter 2
2
-
“The Info Grid: Providing the public With the necessary information, any time, anywhere.” announced the always enthusiastic female voice.
A short jingle played while the blue and silver logo of the info grid appeared on the screen, spinning slowly around itself. Eric Crane, a young man with short, dark hair looked intensely at the thin screen which was built into the wall of the residential building he was standing in front of - just as in all the others.
Eric took a step back and looked up, the tall, grey facade of the building stretching far into the air, as if trying to touch the equally grey and heavy sky.
It would probably start raining again pretty soon.
The little screen was still playing the news broadcast; presently a segment with a medical researcher explaining how to combat further spread of the Red Sickness.
It was a rerun. Ian had seen it the day before. He knew the landlord had also seen it. Not only that, but he had memorized all the symptoms.  He
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Bird skull w Runic Inscription by ChristianII Bird skull w Runic Inscription :iconchristianii:ChristianII 0 11
Literature
Crane's War - Chapter 1
1
'Are we ready to begin sharing?'
Interrogation officer Trommfield's voice was silky and controlled, as he paced around the chair in which his subject had been fastened. The pale light from a wall monitor cast an eerie glow across the room, the only other source of light being the sharp, fluorescent light that a strategically positioned lamp was shining directly into the occupant of the chair's face.
'I am only obliged to give you my name and service number.' The prisoner's bionic right eye flashed red in contrast with his dark skin as his interrogator passed in front of the lamp.
He continued walking over to the green-tiled wall and leaned against it, producing a cigarette from his the chest pocket of his grey uniform. 'Unfortunately that is not good enough, mister Birox.' he said, as he pulled out a lighter. 'You could start by telling me where your accomplice took the plans after you stole them.'
'I passed them on digitally to a secure receiver who retransmitted them. I don't know
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Literature
Crane's War - Prologue
The United Terran Empire has stood for several centuries. It spans hundreds of worlds, with billions of inhabitants. All are governed by the Grand Chancellor whose seat of government is on Terra itself, homeworld of the human race.
However, not all systems have high thoughts about the rule of Terra. Over the course of the last decades, several censorship laws and bans have been passed, illegalizing technologies and materials deemed as "Harmful to the physical and ethical health of the human race".  
The extent of what "harmful" means, is defined by the Grand Chancellor and his politically appointed Ethicarians; but includes subjects ranging from narcotics and illegal writings to medical procedures deemed "unnatural".
Most prominent of all the bans is the Resolution on Human Enhancement.
It prohibits attempts at surgically improving the physical and mental capabilities of the human body through cybernetic and biological enhancement, as this was considered "Dehumanizing".
The b
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Literature
Necromancers Monologue
They cast me out; the ignorant fools. Fearful of what their minds, numbed after generations of dirt farming, are unable to comprehend.
“Graverobber!” they cried. “Freak!” they shouted. Hurling spoiled vegetables and insults at me as the chased me away. They will regret that soon – oh yes.
For months I have prepared, here in the catacombs. Hundreds of loyal, perfect servants heed every nuance of my thought. I need not even speak an order; merely will it and they will make it true.
Life is filthy. Disgusting in its futility – why do they cling to it so?
They celebrate it even. Flowers… they leech upon their surroundings and die, once they have spread their seeds for another generation of pointless beings.
So like the people who rip them from the ground. Removing the very thing they seek to honor.
And moonlight – “Oh the moonlight! It is so romantic and poetic!” , Bah! They do not appreciate its true poesy! Their foolish perception is like
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Literature
Comfortable Care
Its raining.
I can hear it, drumming on the windowpane. I don’t even have to look up. Or listen. The light is throwing shadows up on the wall, even though the heavy clouds outside is suppressing it. They crawl around… like worms in a can. One layer atop of another.
What time is it? 3? 4? Its not five yet. The custodian would have been bringing out the trays of food. I can hear him long before he comes. The front wheel on his cart squeaks and I hear the little grates in the doors being opened and closed as he moves down the corridor. I always used know when it’d be my turn. The person in the room to my right is called Smith. He screams every time they open the grate to slide food into him. “Easy, Mr Smith” the custodian will say. That’s all he ever says.
One day, Smith didn’t scream. He had hung himself. I heard them rush in, and lift him up while shouting for help. Now Smith has no bed sheets anymore. Nothing to hide behind, or use to escape. He crawl
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Literature
The three maidens
Tre små møer gik ved en å
Luilæålæniå
Da brat de så en røver stå
På den grønne, grønne bred ved Ølen Å.
Three little maidens walked by a river
Luilæålæniå
When suddenly they saw a bandit stand
On the green, green banks by Ølen Å
Den første mø han tog i favn
Luilæålæniå
Og svingede hende rundt på stand
På den grønne, grønne bred ved Ølen Å.
Of the first maiden he took a hold
Luilæålæniå
And swung her round on her feet
On the green, green banks by Ølen Å
"Sig mig vil du være en røvers viv?"
Luilæålæniå
"Eller vil du dø for denne min kniv?"
På den grønne, grønne bred ved Ølen Å.
"Tell me, would you be a bandits wife?"
Luilæålæniå
"Or would you die by this; my knife"
On the green, green banks by Ølen Å
"Jeg vi
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Literature
Requiem
The dry leaves on the ground rustled lightly, as Gerno’s skin boot touched them; carrying him slowly and silently forward. The breeze whispered through the surrounding trees, giving him a brief reprieve from the warm summer afternoon. He felt warm under his leather tunic. Looking down on the ground in front of him, Gerno saw the faint footprints of his prey in the dirt. He had been stalking the deer since midday.  He had pegged it with an arrow as it started to run away from him, and the blood trail was present every few dozen meters sticking to branches and rocks where the wounded beast had passed. His wooden spear hung next to his bow and arrows on his back, the quiver beautifully ornate with drawings of animals and humans. His uncle had made it several years ago.
The tracks were leading uphill, and as Gerno climbed the slope he allowed himself to take his eyes off the trail to look upwards. He only saw trees and twisted rocks on all sides. And up ahead, old ruins. He
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Literature
Ancient Tragedy
Sucessus loved her
And Iris never knew
She walked past his shop everyday
Didnt even glance
But he saw her
With another man
He scribbled on the wall
He was desperate you know
"She loves me, not you!"
Forever etched in stone
As the mocking reply
"She cares not about you!"
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Literature
Love never Dies
To think of all the people
Who have felt this through time
The thin spark of magic that lives between loving eyes
Their smiles which show it clearly
The timeless power
Though all else turns to dust and shadows
Whispered echoes of eternities gone
Love never dies
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The Frozen War
   Leutnant Reinhard Xavier was in Hell. He knew he was in Hell, because there was nothing he could look to for encouragement. There was no ray of hope here; no guardian angel watching over him in this barren wasteland. No safety, no sanity, and certainly no way out. But for Xavier, Hell was not an eternal pit of flames as the priests claimed. Oh, no. There was a Hell, but it was not cavernous, nor filled with spires, nor opressively hot. No, Hell had no cavern entrance, because it was in the open air. The cold air. Hell, Xavier had discovered, was cold. He was cold, his friends were cold, his food was cold, and the entire bloody country was cold. He had been cold when he woke up, he was cold now, and he would be cold when he went back to sleep in the cold, gray steel of his Panzer IV. If you had asked Leutnant Xavier, on that bitterly cold morning, he would have gladly told you, through some of the most colourful language possible, that he had found Hell in Mosco
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Activity


deviantID

ChristianII
Mad scribbler
Artist | Literature
Denmark
Current Residence: Varde
Favourite genre of music: Rock/Celtic
Skin of choice: My own, preferably.
Favourite cartoon character: Judge Frollo
Personal Quote: "The only thing seperating me and you is that i know im crazy."
Interests
So im back. For now, at least. Im sorry it has been so long, and I am sorry for neglecting all you people who have been supporting me and whose critiscism is my main tool of improvement.

So what have i been doing - In between school, work, student organisations and life in general ive simply been busy. I havent even written anything real in all this time (nothing id post anyway). Ive uploaded a flash piece i wrote just last night (its fresh off the keyboard so feel free to poke me if you see typing mess-ups!).

Christian
  • Listening to: Viva La Vida - Coldplay
  • Reading: Dan Brown - Angels & Daemons
  • Watching: The Prestige
  • Playing: Fallout 3
  • Eating: Pirogs
  • Drinking: -

Comments


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:iconthespanishinquisiton:
TheSpanishInquisiton Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2009
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!
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:iconchristianii:
ChristianII Featured By Owner Jan 12, 2009   Writer
Ah! Do you have a comfy chair? :omfg:
Reply
:iconthespanishinquisiton:
Yes we have :evillaugh:!
Reply
:iconchristianii:
ChristianII Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2009   Writer
Oh lord have mercy! D:
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(1 Reply)
:iconwriters-workshop:
Writers-Workshop Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2008
Hello

As a member of *Writers-Workshop we are excited to share with you a quick update!

:bulletblue: Our latest workshop is being hosted by ~LaMonaca on punctuating poetry, and you can find out more by clicking here: [link]

:bulletblue: We will be celebrating our Year anniversary this month! Make sure you join in the celebrations!

You have received this note because you are listed as a member of this club. If you no longer wish to be a member, please drop us a note and we will remove you from our memberlist.

Thank you!
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:iconstarwarsguru:
StarWarsGURU Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2008
btw sweet icon ;)
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:iconchristianii:
ChristianII Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2008   Writer
Thanks :)
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:iconlpspalmer:
lpspalmer Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:
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:iconchristianii:
ChristianII Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2008   Writer
You're welcome :D
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:iconpuer-dracul:
Puer-Dracul Featured By Owner May 15, 2008  Hobbyist Filmographer
Skal vi lære mere fransk fra selveste Knop på søndag igen?
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