Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Artist EricMale/Canada Group :iconliterature-accepted: Literature-Accepted
All Literature Is Accepted
Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 93 Deviations 2,466 Comments 13,083 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
The Space Between Us
Theres a space between us
The more confidence I wear on my sleeve
The less I have insisde me
For 21 years I learned how to act
What to feel and how to think
I have really laughed in years
Since I was a child, running in the playground
I’ve never cried the tears
That I felt inside
Nothing I’ve shown were my actions
My feelings or my thoughts
I look around me and I think I see the same
In blank faces, in fake feelings and sad, smiling eyes
An unspoken truth
A bitterness everyone knows
But no one acknowledge
If I could only go back to those days
Running in the playground
When I laughed when I was happy
cried when I was sad
And held those who needed to be held
And remind everyone around me how
I would
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 3 0
Literature
Icarus
When Icarus fell from his heights
His wings burned and scarred his skin
Those on the shore laughed at him
They mocked him
And told no one to follow what he had done
But not one of them had ever kissed the sun
I would rather die in its flames
Then live never knowing its light
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 17 13
Literature
The Tyrants
When the tyrants return to the world
They will find no armies lines against them
They will find no tears shed in pain
They’ will find no one to call them evil
To argue against them or slander their names
When the tyrants return to the world
All they will find
Is cheering and applause
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 7 4
Literature
A Cup of Coffee (Full)
On the first day I know I saw him, I woke up early in the morning for work. I got out of my bed and folded the sheets at the edge. It is more important than most people realize to make your bed every day. Then, the first task of the day is done. The day is started with accomplishment from real work, even if it is only a small effort. It gives you the right mindset of organization and productivity.
Next, I showered. I used the best soaps and shampoo I can get. Personal presentation is always important. Even if it seems no one notices, your cleanliness will affect how people treat you, and can be the first obstacle to success.
I shaved with a straight razor. Using a straight razor takes a bit more effort. It is a skill that needs to be developed, but leads to better results. Whenever given the opportunity, I always work to develop a skill, rather than take the easier route.
Finally I got dressed. I have an array of suits ready, in a variety of different colors. Each color could mean some
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 78 56
Literature
Flick
(This is a script written for a class, hence the format)
INT: KITCHEN
 A typical suburban kitchen, camera situated at one end facing slightly down, as if at on the ceiling against the wall. There is a wooden table in the center, a fridge, a counter with a sink, and a window on the right, and a doorway on the left. The walls are white washed with pictures of the family on them.
A family of four sits at the table, eating breakfast. JORDON, late 30s, fit, clean cut, shaven, and in a pressed suit, is seated facing away from the camera. MARIE, late 30s, attractive, and wearing a dress, is facing him. The children, JESSICA, aged 13, and BEN, aged 7, are between the parents on the right and left side of the table. They all appear happy. Music is quiet and calm. Everything is extremely cheery, clean and pristine, to the point of seeming deliberately over done. Emotions are over expressed and campy.
Unless otherwise stated, every camera cut is accompanied by a simultaneous “flick
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 3 4
Literature
A Cup of Coffee
It was early morning, and I was walking down a side walk along a crowded street. The sun was rising in front of me, shining down the rows of office buildings I passed on my way to work. The snow crunched under my feet. I held my black overcoat against the wind, and turned toward a coffee shop.
“Spare some change for a drink?” a voice said.
I looked down to see an old man sitting by the door. He had long, ragged hair, and was wrapped in a torn jacket.
I looked down at him, wrinkling my nose. This wasn’t the first time he had asked. “If you want change, work for it. No one ever gave me anything.” I turned away, and moved on.
The next day I went by the same store again, and the same man was sitting by the door.
“Spare some change for a drink?” he asked.
I turned on him. “You’ve asked me that before. It’s always been no. Why do you ask again?”
“Well, sometimes there are sides to people that are hidden. Maybe today you&
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 10 26
Literature
The Rise
I saw him yesterday.
It was in a bar on Summer Street. I was passing by late at night when I saw him through a window. He was standing on a table, hammering his fist down into his palm again and again as he called out to the  group who watched him. Every time he did they’d call their response, and every time they did they’d be louder.
I stood in the light of the window, taking shelter from the rain under its eves. I tried to follow what he said, though much of it was unclear.
He spoke simply and loudly. He told them of all their problems, of their poverty, of their enemies, of their anger. They were hopeless, he told them.
Then he said he- HE- had the solution. He told them all their problems came from the same source. IT wasn’t their fault, he said. There were others to blame. I don’t remember who it was he said, and I suppose it didn’t matter. What mattered is that they were the enemies. Their enemies- people they didn’t know where their enemi
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 2 0
Literature
You Are Not Alone
You are not alone
When the bomb blasts echo in the night
And guns fire in the streets
You are not alone
When the pain clouds your mind
And good men fall to the ground
You are not alone
When hatred makes its mark
And evil comes to bear
We are with you
We are with you in the night
We are with you in the streets
We are with you in the stadiums
In the seats filled with blood
We are with you in the countries
In nations far and wide
From across oceans
From across mountains
And miles of uncharted ground
If our backs our broken, if our hearts are heavy
If the way is lined with knives
We will come
We will come in the cold of the winter
Across any obstacles
And in the darkness of the night
Know the sun only ever sets
So that it may rise again
So we will stand beside you
Until the dawn is shining down
The chains will be broken
The wounds will be healed
And hatred will meet its end
The world is standing with you
Shouting high and loud
That evil will never triumph
When good men stand their ground
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 15 6
Literature
The Beast and the Businessman final version
John drifted in an immense void. There was no way to control his movement, and no place he could have gone. He wondered if anyone even knew he was alive.
Not long ago he had been a traveler. In another time he would have been called an astronaut, but in his time such things were more common and words like “astronaut” seemed unnecessary. He had been moving with his family to another part of the galaxy. They were being transported through space, moving thousands of light years to reach a new home on a distant planet.
One morning he had attended a briefing on safety drills, along with the rest of his family. These were held regularly on board the ship to ensure everyone was ready in case of disaster. The first drill was always to get a protective suit on.
An instructor had stood in front of his family, demonstrating how the pieces of the suit fit onto the body.  “Alright,” he said “everyone just go through the motions, then check the person beside you.
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 7 0
Literature
The Time is Now
When those voices start coming
Full of doubt and fear and pain
Just let them pass by your ears
And forget they ever came
Don’t wait to find another
To inspire you to great things
Become it for all others
And prove what you can do
The world is only waiting
For you to come to see
That only you yourself
Can decide what you can be
The past is gone forever
But your moment is now
Learn from the mistakes of the past
And build on its successes
Surpass all that was done
By those once called great
Until they are nothing but pebbles
To the mountain you have made
And when you’ve built that mountain
Climb it to the very top
See the world beneath you
Ready for you to take
Bellow your name out
Loud and high and clear
So all the world will hear it
Ringing in their ears
And for now into the future
Not a single man shall live
Who won’t learn that you had come
To make the world your own
Sing the song you want to hear,
Write the book you want to read,
Be the man you want to meet
And buil
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 6 8
Literature
The time is now (unedited)
When those voices start coming
Full of doubt and fear and pain
Just let them pass by your ears
And forget they ever came
Don’t wait to find another
To inspire you to great things
Become it for all others
And prove what you can do
The world is only waiting
For you to come to see
That only you yourself
Can decide what you can be
Sing the song you want to hear,
Write the book you want to read,
Be the man you want to meet
And build the world you want to see
The past is gone forever
But your moment is now
Learn from the mistakes of the past
And build on its successes
Conquer all before you
All those once called great
Until they are nothing but pebbles
To the mountain you have made
And when you’ve built that mountain
Climb it to the very top
See the world beneath you
Ready for you to take
Bellow your name out
Loud and high and clear
So all the world will hear it
Ringing in their ears
And for now into the future
Not a single man shall live
Who won’t learn that you had come
T
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 1 0
Literature
Blink Alternate
Surely you cannot say that I’m the one to blame. I know what it looks like. I know what it SEEMS like. Yes, perhaps it was my hand that acted, my body that moved. But as always, there is so much more beyond what we see, a horde of things unknowable and insensible that work together to control the world we pretend to know. Inside shadow is a mind, and behind everything we do there are a thousand unseen shadows. So, the actions seem to be my own, but the guilt is not.
The first time it happened was on a Saturday night. I had been out late, and returned to my home and the ones who lived here. At the time, I had no idea what would happen just moments after I walked through the door.
If you asked me now I couldn’t tell you why I did it. I had no reason too- none! Nothing they ever did would have harmed me. I had nothing to gain from it. But I did.
When I got there I walked into the kitchen for water. There, the woman met me. She turned on the lights, and the brightness along wit
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 8 5
Literature
Blink
Surely you cannot say that I’m the one to blame. I know what it looks like. I know what it SEEMS like. Yes, perhaps it was my hand that acted, my body that moved. But as always, there is so much more beyond what we see, a horde of things unknowable and undetectable that work together to control the world we pretend to know. Inside every shadow is a mind, and behind everything we see there are a thousand unseen shadows. So, the actions seem to be my own, but the guilt is not.
The first time it happened was on a Saturday night. I had been out late, and returned to my home and the ones who lived here. At the time, I had no idea what would happen just minutes after I walked through the door.
When I got there I walked into the kitchen for water. There, the woman met me. She turned on the lights, and the brightness along with the white walls and cabinets burned my eyes.
She started talking to me. Well, not talking. Yelling, nagging, screaming, but not talking. She was  angry at me
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 14 40
Literature
Blink (original)
Surely you cannot say that I’m the one to blame. I know what it looks like. I know what it SEEMS like. Yes, perhaps it was my hand that acted, my body that moved. But as always, there is so much more beyond what we see, a horde of things unknowable and insensible that work together to control the world we pretend to know. Inside shadow is a mind, and behind everything we do there are a thousand unseen shadows. So, the actions seem to be my own, but the guilt is not.
The first time it happened was on a Saturday night. I had been out late, and returned to my home and the ones who lived here. At the time, I had no idea what would happen just moments after I walked through the door.
If you asked me now I couldn’t tell you why I did it. I had no reason too- none! Nothing they ever did would have harmed me. I had nothing to gain from it.
Oh, sure they bothered me. No one can deny that. The constant whine, the nagging of the woman. Always with some nasty remark, some little thing
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 1 0
Literature
The Eternal Sea
He stood by the sea
With a face hard as oak
And a voice strong and free
Shouting loud, he spoke
“I lived a full life
In the years behind me
I’ve seen hardness and strife
But knew who I’d be
A man among men
All others I have awed
I have overthrown kings
And stood beside God
All this I have done
With my strength and my spine
And all beneath the sun
Knew the world was mine”
All this he shouted at the sea
But the waves, they rolled eternally
“I loved with my heart
A woman that I knew
Of my soul she was part
And she loved me too
The strongest feelings
A man could ever know
Were part of our beings
With all love could show
All men, trees, the earth
And the angels above
Knew not our joy and mirth,
And envied our love"
All this he shouted at the sea
But the waves, they rolled eternally
"But it all would end
My joy, my love, her life
All the time we could spend
Cut through with a knife
Tears to flood cities
Sadness to flood my heart
Nothing but self pity
Pain I coul
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 27 50
Literature
The Eternal Sea
A Man stood by the sea
Windswept and broken,
But glorious and free
With words to be spoken
“I’ve lived a full life
With all my time behind me
I’ve seen hardness and strife
But always knew who I’d be
A man among men
All others I have awed
I’ve other thrown kings
And stood beside God
I’ve done all I can
With my strength and my spine
Like no other man
And all the world was mine”
All this he shouted to the sea
But the waves, they rolled eternally
“I’v loved with all my heart
A woman that I knew
Of my soul she was a part
I knew she loved me too
I felt the strongest feelings
A man could ever know
Every day I knew her kiss
And all the love we could show
One day it all would end
My love with her life
And every day I would spend
Thinking of my wife”
All this he shouted to the sea
But the waves they rolled eternally
“Now it all is over
My life and my line
All I apprehended
Are gone all through time
Everything that I could do
Throu
:iconEricAMBM:EricAMBM
:iconericambm:EricAMBM 2 0

Favourites

Journal
Monthly Round-up!
The first of our resurrected Round-ups is here! Collected over the last month, we have a few select lit pieces and a whole slew of community news, including publishing opportunities, new groups, and contests.
This Month's Features
:star:
Recursion by johnhmaloney
A great short read that will have you questioning events up until the very end
johnhmaloney has done an admirable job presenting the start of this short story as an occurrence that could happen in any household when one wakes in the night, following up a seemingly mundane routine with a truly surprising and slightly unsettling ending. A well written piece of fiction with a smooth progression of events
:star:
Sheltering Sprites by Dakoa
"Sometimes we forget how dangerous beautiful things are"
A tale with a twist in its ending, reminding us of how far we have come in forgetting the dange
:iconWritersInk:WritersInk
:iconwritersink:WritersInk 12 28
Literature
Schizophrenia Gouged From Eyes
do you speak?    (withdraw the capacity, the ocean.)
          C  A  S  C  A  D  E
(it's a waterfall, drink up.)
I'm having more to say.  (and less to see.)
         GET   IT
(I'm talking.)
porcelain doll (who sew you together?)
          L   I   S   T   E   N
(the fabric's falling from your knee caps)
                              [he pulled the puzzle from my…
                    masterpiece]
   
:iconEmaciatedandEpitaphs:EmaciatedandEpitaphs
:iconemaciatedandepitaphs:EmaciatedandEpitaphs 35 23
Is anybody here I :iconkaylapatrick:KaylaPatrick 3 0 Is Anybody Here? :iconkaylapatrick:KaylaPatrick 2 3 Who are you? :iconkaylapatrick:KaylaPatrick 2 0 ANGRY :iconkaylapatrick:KaylaPatrick 3 3
Journal
Spotlighting Commenters #69
ProjectComment is a Group that provides Guaranteed & Constructive comments for the DeviantArt community.
In order to support those efforts, we encourage dedicated users to give comments too. For those who are critics, artists, or just helpful in the community, we now offer something in return for all that you do - be it helping the participants of ProjectComment, or the group itself!
This weekly article focuses on the amazing deviants in the DeviantArt community, who have given fantastic comments, through excerpts of those comments, artwork by the deviants themselves, and much more! Your support in :+fav: the article would be much appreciated. :heart:
Spotlight Commenters
These commenters are determined by you through Nominations (read below for more information). Each month, we will be selecting a couple of amazing commenters based on the comments we have seen in our
:icon3wyl:3wyl
:icon3wyl:3wyl 4 4
Dancing man :iconkittimitti:kittimitti 5 2
Journal
OVERALL DEVIATION WINNER!
Hi everyone! :la: It's time to wrap up our little deviation contest!
The winner for overall deviation is.......................................................HexaChronos !
It was a very close match, with Jacofnight only one behind. :o
Overall winner prizes
RadiantIncandescence will drop a GG on your page. XD
kittimitti will draw you anything of your choice.
Roxiichuu will draw you anything of your choice and give you a llama.
I'll drop ten points at your page. :p
Folder deviation prizes:
kittimitti will draw you anything of your choice
RadiantIncandescence will drop a "gg" on your page
I'll give you a llama. :meow: If I've aleady given you a llama, then I'll give you a point.
Also, the overall winner will be displayed on our page and the folder deviation winners will be featured as well! :iconlawooplz:
Our folder deviation winners were:
Traditional art: Jacofnight
Digital art: Cassidy21831
Fan art: Roxiichuu
Pix
:iconEvery-Art-Ever:Every-Art-Ever
:iconevery-art-ever:Every-Art-Ever 4 24
Journal
VOTING FOR OVERALL DEVIATION
Gahhh sorry I'm late. D: Sorryyyyyyyy.
Anyways, we have two pieces tied for overall deviation!
Vote for em please! All you have to do to vote is put a comment below saying which one of the two is your fave. :meow:
by Jacofnight
by HexaChronos
Please vote! :o Since I'm late I'll extend the voting period to 7/5/15. Please please PLEASE vote! D:
The winner of overall deviation can get a llama from Roxiichuu and a digital drawing from her as well. :p
Please donate prizes to the winners! We need prizes for the overall deviation winner alongside the folder winners. :p At this rate all they're gonna get is a llama from me maybe. Please donate!
Our folder winners are:
Traditional art: Jacofnight for http://jacofnight.deviantart.com/art/Water-is-Falling-525835353
Digital art: Cassidy21831 for http://cassidy21831.deviantart.com/art/Searching-For-The-Missing-Piece-538010926
Fan art: Roxiichuu for http://mirokiinjiii.deviantart.
:iconEvery-Art-Ever:Every-Art-Ever
:iconevery-art-ever:Every-Art-Ever 2 72
Lakelander's Supper :icontobitguren:tobitguren 2 4
Journal
May 2015 Feature
Hello everyone! :wave: May is over which means it's time for the monthly feature! We have a lot of great entries. so let's get started! :nod:
:bulletblue: FAN ART :bulletblue:



:bulletred: TRADITIONAL ART :bulletred:
The Badass Racer Chicks - Golden Hardness by xlShinnAsakuralx self portrait by Canthearmyeyes Hollowoods Cover Thingy by Inky-Shade
C: Alice by SilverChaim Ibn Raad by Mine96 McLaren by CapnDeek373
:bulletyellow: DIGITAL ART :bulletyellow:
:thumb536311737: Little Queenie - Lost Again! by Odilone through the vines another world by ManonDiligent Nomad castle by Callergi
The Witch of Roses by iKiska 2 by Sea-of-Diamonds Beauty Looking Down by PaulinaCastle Say Something, Anything by RachelHanke
Mermaid Warrior by YaraFerreira Commission- Rogue by Lilith-the-5th Your answer by FierceBabydoll Moonlight Ascension by NemoTheGoblin
pg23 by BubbleDriver Sara Nuru by Schijan Light in the Darkness by ChocoQuintet :thumb511313223:
:thumb534985838: BATTLE TENDENCY!! by Cheppoly [BP] Reflect Against the Window Pane by Dari-Dari :thumb533387044
Ice And Fire [V2] by fireytika The Hunter by forgotmypen Darkest of Angels by xXSerena-CrosseXx
:bulletgreen: LITERATURE :bulletgreen:
:thumb53518125
:iconFeatureMeArtists:FeatureMeArtists
:iconfeaturemeartists:FeatureMeArtists 6 31
Literature
Blame the Victim
Blame the Victim, his cry!
He deserves just to die!
Blame the Victim, Just blame!
He's weak, easy game
Blame the Victim, again!
It's your chance, much to gain
Blame the Victim! Great show!
He is guilty! You know!!!
Blame the Victim, Just Blame!
Throw dirt on his name!
Blame the Victim, his fate!
Yes! He asked for your hate!!!
Blame the victim, again!
Yes, he asked for his pain!!
Blame the victim, again!
No man will complain
Blame the Victim! He's dying!
No mercy!! He's lying!!!
       
Blame the Victim...He’s dead,
But...He’ll come to your bed.
:iconDraganTheMighty:DraganTheMighty
:icondraganthemighty:DraganTheMighty 413 156
Algae Grazing :iconliciandragon:LicianDragon 17 11
Literature
Rise of the Shoggoths
They creep, they lurk,
They are the darkness.
A void of murk
And total blackness.
With swimming eyes,
A goulish tide.
They grow and rise,
Beyond our might.
In fog they crawl,
Like wind in caves.
A formless sprawl,
That kills and raves.
Like trains they roll,
A mockery.
This dark, cold hole
Their property.
They swish and sweep
Our kind away.
We die like sheep
Without a fray.
They rule, they reign,
Eternal ice.
They learn and gain
A form of lies.
They're pulsing goo,
The blackest matter.
They're old and new,
A deadly splatter.
Their shadow falls
Across the sea.
Their echo calls:
Tekeli-li.
:iconAlmostWhitey:AlmostWhitey
:iconalmostwhitey:AlmostWhitey 11 12
Journal
Project Comment Contest - Comment Rush!
Update: There are only a few hours left, so get your comment links in! :eager:
ProjectComment is a Group of many projects centred around comments, but, more importantly, constructive comments. We offer Members of DeviantArt a lot of opportunities to get comments, give comments, participate in comment projects, win points, get featured and much, much more!
We have an awesome comment contest for you all! Please :+fav: this article so that more can join in on the fun! :la:
Contest Begins: Sunday 19th April
Contest Ends: Sunday 3rd May, Midnight Pacific Time
Information & Guidelines: The main aim of this contest is to make as many comments as you can in two weeks! However, we don't want you to focus on quantity over quality, as each are as important as the other! Comments must be constructive and relevant to the piece you are commenting on. What do we mean by 'constructive' and 'relevant'?
By constructive, we would like to see comments tha
:icon3wyl:3wyl
:icon3wyl:3wyl 17 59

Groups

Activity


Theres a space between us

The more confidence I wear on my sleeve
The less I have insisde me

For 21 years I learned how to act
What to feel and how to think

I have really laughed in years
Since I was a child, running in the playground
I’ve never cried the tears
That I felt inside

Nothing I’ve shown were my actions
My feelings or my thoughts

I look around me and I think I see the same
In blank faces, in fake feelings and sad, smiling eyes
An unspoken truth
A bitterness everyone knows
But no one acknowledge

If I could only go back to those days
Running in the playground
When I laughed when I was happy
cried when I was sad
And held those who needed to be held
And remind everyone around me how
I would
When Icarus fell from his heights
His wings burned and scarred his skin
Those on the shore laughed at him
They mocked him
And told no one to follow what he had done
But not one of them had ever kissed the sun
I would rather die in its flames
Then live never knowing its light
When the tyrants return to the world
They will find no armies lines against them
They will find no tears shed in pain
They’ will find no one to call them evil
To argue against them or slander their names
When the tyrants return to the world
All they will find
Is cheering and applause


On the first day I know I saw him, I woke up early in the morning for work. I got out of my bed and folded the sheets at the edge. It is more important than most people realize to make your bed every day. Then, the first task of the day is done. The day is started with accomplishment from real work, even if it is only a small effort. It gives you the right mindset of organization and productivity.

Next, I showered. I used the best soaps and shampoo I can get. Personal presentation is always important. Even if it seems no one notices, your cleanliness will affect how people treat you, and can be the first obstacle to success.

I shaved with a straight razor. Using a straight razor takes a bit more effort. It is a skill that needs to be developed, but leads to better results. Whenever given the opportunity, I always work to develop a skill, rather than take the easier route.

Finally I got dressed. I have an array of suits ready, in a variety of different colors. Each color could mean something different, and was ideal for different scenarios. That day I went with black, the color of authority and formality, and the one that fits any situation.

I covered my suit with a long black overcoat and headed to work. Though the sun was warm, there was a cold wind and the air was freezing. Snow was still falling from the night before, and crunched under my feet.

I was walking down the sidewalk between rows of office buildings and crowds of rushing workers when I heard him. It was right outside a coffee shop I usually stop by on my way to work.

“Spare some change for a drink?” his voice said.

I looked down to see an old man sitting by the door of the coffee shop. He had long, ragged hair, and was wrapped in a torn jacket.

“No, sorry,” I replied.

“Oh? Why not?” he didn’t sound angry, only surprised.

I looked down at him and crinkled my face. “If you want change, work for it. No one ever gave me anything.” I turned away, and moved on.

“Oh, are you so sure?” he said. I ignored it.

I could see him through the window as I waited in line, and he was still there when I left. He nodded at me, seemingly not upset by what I had said.

His face stayed with me for the rest of the day. Normally panhandlers were just something I ignored- an everyday occurrence to move past and forget. Something about his voice, or perhaps his attitude, made this one different. He asked for money as if he was offering me a favor. He wasn’t begging, he wasn’t desperate, in his mind he was the one helping me. He had even been polite with me afterward, as if he hadn’t lost anything from my refusal.

The next day I went by the same store again, and the same man was sitting by the door.

“Spare some change for a drink?” he asked.

I sighed, ignored him, and went by without a response.  I hoped that would convince him to drop it. However, he still watched me from the window, and his face stuck with me. I tried to shake his image out of my mind all day. As with before, I couldn’t.

On the third he was once again sitting on the same spot before I arrived. I paused a moment down the road, thinking. I could have just walked by him and ignored what he said. I could have walked to the other side of the street if I wanted to. Of course, that would mean waiting for traffic to slow, and I wasn’t one let someone else dictate my decisions. In the end I decided to go the same way as before, and not change it for some random vagrant.

I closed my eyes as I went by and heard his voice. “Can you spare some change for a drink?

I turned on him. “Don’t you get it? The answers no. It’s always been no. Why do you ask again?”

“Well, sometimes there are sides to people to people that are hidden. Maybe today you’ll say yes.”

“Why should I?” I asked, agitated.

“It would help me,” he remained calm and placid, unaffected by my anger.

“So? Why should I care? What would I gain from it?”

“Maybe there are things I know that are worth it. Its only coffee.”

I got more frustrated. He just wouldn’t drop it. Why was he so certain that he could convince me? I walked by a thousand panhandlers a day, and none of them acted like this. More importantly, none of them stuck in my mind the same way. Normally I didn’t even acknowledge them, but here I felt the need to respond.

“Well? Is something wrong?” he asked.

 “Yes, you ask me every day!” I said.

“And I’m going to keep asking every day.”

I sighed and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t stand him badgering me about it again. “If I buy you a coffee, will you leave me alone?”

“If that is what you want, then yes.”

“Fine.” I walked in, not bothering to check if he followed.

The café was covered in dark earthen colors, occasionally broken by decorative paintings for sale and small checkered tables. In a few moments we were seated under a long painting near the window.

I faced the man who had annoyed me into buying him coffee. “So,” I said, “what is it you know that is worth my money?”

He sipped the cup. “You know, to you coffee isn’t much, but on a cold winter day, it can bring warmth to someone who needs it.”

“But why should I give it to you? You should learn to depend on yourself.”

“Well we all from time to time depend on others.”

“Really? No one gave me anything.” I had heard this line a thousand times, and always from someone asking for something.

“Really? No one ever helped you?” he asked, surprised.

“That is what I said.”

“Nothing? You had no family, no friends?”

“Well of course I had a family!”

“Surely they helped you get where you are. They must have done something, at least.”

“No, I came from a poor family. My father could barely provide. I made it on my own.”

He blinked when I said this. “Hmmmm, is that right? Did he never give you anything?”

“Well I don’t really see why this is any business of yours.”

The man sipped his coffee, not effected by my brusque reply. “Well, you paid for this already, you may as well talk to me.”

I sighed. “Fine. What was it you wanted to know?”

“You said your father could barely provide. Did he never give you anything?”

“Like what? He didn’t give me my job, if that is what you are asking. I didn’t inherit anything from him.”

“No, not like that. I mean, did he give you anything just to make you happy. Aside from the normal things- food, clothing, and all that. Did he ever give you something else just as a gift that you really remember?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Then was there anything not worth mentioning?”

I thought a moment. “Well, he did… sometimes when I was younger.”

“And what was that?”

That was a very personal question to ask. “Why should I tell you?”

“As I said, you may as well tell me.”

“You really won’t stop until I tell you, will you?”

“You bought me coffee on the condition we speak. I wouldn’t want to take something for free, would I?”

I paused, surprised. I sounded like he was repeating my thoughts back to me. I decided to humour him. “Sometimes he’d have treats when he came home. Trinkets, stuff he had picked up at the dollar store. Nothing much.”

“It doesn’t sound like a lot.”

“No, they weren’t even that good.”

“Then why do you remember them?”

I paused a moment. Old memories came back.

Every night he’d come home exhausted. He’d shut the door behind himself, close his eyes and lean against it, undoing his long grey coat.

Then he’d wipe the sweat from his brow, look up, and smile. It was always the smile. Broad, clear, and genuine, like he had been waiting all day for this moment. He’d call to me and I would come running, ecstatic. He’d put his hands on my shoulders, then kneel down and hug me back. I can still feel the warmth of his arms, count the greying bristles of his face and smell his cologne. Afterwards he’d get up and hug my mother, who waited behind me. While he did I would check my pockets, and he had always slipped something inside. Toys, candies- my favourite was finding the small oval strawberry candies, usually wrapped in red. It was never too much, but to me it was the world.

“They were important, in a way… I think it was because it came from him. But more than that it was something done just for the sake of it, just to make me happy.”

“I see. So you did get something, then?” he smiled.

“Yes… but it’s not like it helped much.” I was quick to add the last part. “Anyway, that is only when I was younger. He stopped doing it when I was seven.” I didn’t like these questions. I knew what he was doing- by asking what I had been given, he was trying to make me think that I owed everything to someone else, that the only difference between him and I was my parents. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Oh, what happened then?”

“Th.. things changed.” It wasn’t like me to stutter.

“What sorts of things changed?”

“Everything.”

He came home, shut the door and leaned on it, as he always did. We waited for him to look up, but he didn’t. He just kept facing downward, unmoving. Eventually I called out, and he turned and smiled.

The smile was different. His mouth took the same shape, but there was something missing behind his eyes. I knew something was wrong.

I’d never see that smile again.

 “He lost his job. I never found out why- maybe he was lazy, or argued. That left us with nothing.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this, or why the words didn’t feel as bitter as they should.

 “So you blamed him for it, then?”

“Well of course I did! We lost the house, car, everything.” The memories still stung after all these years. He was my father. He was still there, but it felt like he had abandoned us, leaving us on our own because of whatever he had done.

“Were you hungry?”

“No.”

“Were you on the street?”

“No.”

“Then he didn’t exactly give you nothing, did he?”

“Well yes, he gave us what he could.” Of course he had, I thought, though I was surprised at my own words.

“So he kept working?”                                                                                

“Yes, he did. He never really talked about it after, but sometimes I’d see him in fast food restaurants or cheap stores, working along people half his age.” This was always hard for me. I’d see him from afar, and my mother would take my hand and pull me away. Even worse was when he noticed- the look of embarrassment, of shame, of him quickly looking away and hoping he wasn’t noticed. The hardest was feeling of failure in his eyes.  I hated to see him like that. “It was rarely full time, and he had to switch jobs a lot. He never seemed to do well with his bosses.”

“You blamed him for this, didn’t you?”

“Yes… I always felt angry for it, that he couldn’t do better for us.” I had tried to put blame into my words, but it didn’t feel right. There was never much, but there was enough, and he did do all he could. I always talked about hard work and effort, and I guessed he had been working hard, even if it didn’t give much. 

“Well it sounds like he was still trying. I can’t imagine it was easy going though all those different jobs. Perhaps it isn’t as lucrative as some other positions, but that doesn’t mean it is less effort.”

“No… I suppose not. It’s not like he wasn’t working at all.”

“Yes. It sounds like, if anything, he was embarrassed by it. He was ashamed he wasn’t doing more for you. If that is true, then it doesn’t sound to me like he didn’t try to do more, but that at the time he couldn’t.”

I thought a moment. I tried to remember his face when I did see him, or his stuttering words when I asked what he had been doing. I was never sure, but there was always some money, even if it wasn’t much. “I guess he did. He did seem to give us all he got, at least.”

“But you were still angry at him for this? Even after all these years?

I paused, and he stared at me expectantly. I tried to feel the same anger, remember how I had felt over and over again, but it came across as fake, just a cover. He had worked all day. How could I be angry at that?

 “Yes,” I said finally. Even as I spoke, I instead felt shame at that anger. I had harboured it for so long. Even when I was older, I never understood why it had to be that way. I always thought people earned what they had. If he wasn’t providing, it was because he wasn’t working, and he didn’t care. However, that seemed silly now. He had always been so kind, even with the little things he brought, the idea that he was being neglectful didn’t make sense.

“So he went through all of this, working jobs he was embarrassed to talk about for little pay… all for you? Did you ever say anything about it?”

“No… I was angry, I thought he should do better for us.”

“Do you still think that?”

I paused, thinking. I shook my head. “It was unfair. I wish I hadn’t.”

He shook his head. “It is over. There is no point in wishing for something that is past.”

“I know, I just feel like I treated him unfair, when you put it that way. I was so angry with him.”

He seemed “Are you really sure you were angry at him? Was there something else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes anger is a cover. It can be easier to feel angry then sad, and easier to blame someone for a problem then to accept it. Are you sure you were really angry with him?”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t know, I just wish I could speak with him.”

“Why can’t you? What happened to him?”

“I…” I couldn’t find the words.

He had been working construction at the docks. Long hours of back breaking work, pulling lines, carrying cargo. A sudden storm had storm came in, and they couldn’t evacuated everyone in time. I remember watching it from our window, anxiety turning my stomach. The next day there was a knock at the door. My mother answered it to see a policeman with his hat in his hands. She broke down crying even before he spoke.

I didn’t cry that day. I remember thinking I should feel sad, but I only felt a deep emptiness. It stayed with me for years. Even when I smiled, I felt it inside of me, the same thing I finally knew was behind his eyes years before, and inside mine now. It wasn’t sadness, but a cold, grey nothingness that came from knowing joy was gone. He had given all he had, and finally, he had nothing left to give.

The docks paid out for his death, as did an old insurance claim he had taken out when things were better. We hadn’t realized he had kept it

I did everything I could to forget what had happened to him.

 “I see,” the old man said, guessing what I was thinking.

“I got everything after that. I never thought of it. I can’t believe, all those years with him, and I was just acted like I hated him, and now I…” I couldn’t finish the words. Tears came down my face.

The man put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I understand this is hard to talk about.”

“I just… It was hard. We had so little, and everything we did was a struggle. We kept moving into smaller and smaller places, my clothes were torn, and then even he was gone. I had to blame something. I couldn’t just stay sad all the time. It was… it was easier to be angry then to be sad. I had to move on. I don’t know if it was right, but… It helped. It just helped.”

Ever since then my life had been different. The money we got, though it wasn’t too much, was enough for a better life. I went to university, and never had to worry about paying for it.

From then on everything kept changing. I moved to a different city, got a job, and worked constantly. I moved up the ladder, getting promoted, and never looking back. I all but forgot about my old life back home, about the poverty, about my father working small jobs for us, about my mother watching after me day and night. I forgot about the smiles, the smells, the candies, and the storm and the policeman. I forgot the good along with the bad, and everyone I had known.

The man gave me a moment as I wiped my eyes. “Why don’t we head out? I’m sure you need to get to work, and probably want to be cleaned up.”

We both stood up. “Thank you.” I said, trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just broke down like that. I just never really thought about all of these. All those thoughts I had about him just seem so… so wrong. I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t worry, it is done. Just remember, sometimes something small to you can mean a lot to another, even a cup of coffee. You really helped me today, and I hope I helped you.” He wrapped his arms around me for a moment, then left.

I wiped my tears, then got up to leave. As I did, I noticed something in my pocket. I reached in to feel a hard, oval object.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                   

A Cup of Coffee (Full)
This is the full version of the story here fav.me/dauwos0 .

Originally wrote it for a writing class, so it had to be short, but I wanted to flesh it out more. I'd appreciate it if people let me know which they prefer.
Loading...
(This is a script written for a class, hence the format)

INT: KITCHEN

 A typical suburban kitchen, camera situated at one end facing slightly down, as if at on the ceiling against the wall. There is a wooden table in the center, a fridge, a counter with a sink, and a window on the right, and a doorway on the left. The walls are white washed with pictures of the family on them.

A family of four sits at the table, eating breakfast. JORDON, late 30s, fit, clean cut, shaven, and in a pressed suit, is seated facing away from the camera. MARIE, late 30s, attractive, and wearing a dress, is facing him. The children, JESSICA, aged 13, and BEN, aged 7, are between the parents on the right and left side of the table. They all appear happy. Music is quiet and calm. Everything is extremely cheery, clean and pristine, to the point of seeming deliberately over done. Emotions are over expressed and campy.

Unless otherwise stated, every camera cut is accompanied by a simultaneous “flick” sound, like a light switch. Flicks represent JORDON’s perspective changing.

MARIE

So what do you have at school today?

JESSICA

I have a biology test, but it should be fine.

MARIE

 Did you study for it?

JESSICA

 Yes, and it’s easy anyway.

BEN

 What’s biology? Is that where they make you dissect stuff?

JESSICA

 Ewww no!

BEN

I bet it is! They’ll make you cut up a frog, with all its guts…

MARIE

 Ben not at the table.

JORDON

(affectionately)

 It’s fine. He is just joking around. Is everyone ready for today?

JESSICA/BEN (together)

 Yes

JORDON

 Good. Well it’s time to go.

MARIE

It is. Come on, get in the car if you don’t want to walk to school.

Children leave

MARIE

 Goodbye honey! Have a good day at work!

JORDON

 You too!

They kiss, and depart

CUT TO:

Next day and the family is again at breakfast. However, the far wall is slightly closer to the table, making the room smaller. JORDON is glancing up at it, no one else seems to notice. Music is the same as before.

MARIE:

Something wrong honey?

JORDON:

(looking at the wall)

I don’t know. Does the room seems different to you?

MARIE

 (glancing at the wall)

No, what do you mean?

JORDON:

(Anxious, but not wanting his family to see)

Never mind. I probably just need some sleep. I have to go.

JORDON leaves

CUT TO:

Next day, breakfast, the wall is closer than before. Jordon is staring at it without stopping.

MARIE:

(exasperated)

Dear, you’re not eating.

JORDON:

I just can’t help the feeling that the wall is closer than it was before.

Others to face him

MARIE:

What?

BEN:

Is that a joke dad? I don’t get it.

MARIE:

(Worried)

Your father is just being silly. Just ignore him.

JORDON:

(Sensing her worry)

It’s nothing kids. Go back to eating.

MARIE looks at JORDON questioningly, worried and wanting to talk about it but not wanting to say anything in front of BEN and JESSICA. JORDON is staring at the wall.

Music stops.

CUT TO:

JORDON alone in kitchen, sitting on ground and staring the significantly closer wall.

CUT TO:

Kitchen, wall now covers most of the table. The family is crowded at one end eating supper, JORDON is staring at the wall and not moving. Chatter of family. JORDON’s mood has effected the family, they are noticeably less cheery then before.

CUT TO:

JORDON is standing in significantly smaller room, standing a few feet from the wall. Camera in same location as before, but begins moving along the side of the room, then gets closer to JORDON, ending in a side view of him facing the wall.

Music begins. A deep, rumbling bass sound giving a slow beat. Quiet, dark, and ominous.

JORDON reaches out and touches the wall, feeling that it is solid and real. He begins pressing against it.

He retracts his hands.

(silently) CUT TO:

JORDON’s face, his eyes squeezing shut, then opening.

CUT TO:

Same side view, with wall now touching JORDAN’s nose. He appears afraid, and backs up.

Music increases speed and gets louder.

 (silently) CUT TO:

Split screen. On the left is JORDON’s eyes. On the right is the side view of him and the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut, this time keeping them closed. Music reaches climax.

JORDON reaches forward.  His hand approaches the wall and goes through, disappearing into it.


As he is reaching forward, the left screen showing his eyes gets smaller as the right side increases, so that as his hand goes through the image completely covers the screen. Music is replaced with loud, distorted screeching noises.

CUT TO:

JORDON opening his eyes.

 (silently) CUT TO:

JORDON’s perspective, his hand going through the wall.

(silently) CUT TO:

JORDON from behind, with his hand going forward and disappearing into the wall. Screen becomes blurry at the edges and shimmers, then shrinks. Three images form, blurry and shimmering. hey move to form three equally sized rectangular shots, lined up side by side. Each show JORDON from behind with his hand forward. The one on the far left has him touching a wall that is right in front of him. The central shot has his hand going through the wall. The shot on the far right has the wall in its original position.

The three images stand for a moment. There is a flicking sound as with the cuts, and they switch positions. There is another flicking sound, they switch again. The flicking gets faster and louder, replacing the music, as the images continuously switch position.

CUT TO:

One screen, continuously switching between the three as the flicking sound continues. JORDON screams and runs forward.

(silently) CUT TO:

Screen turns black and remains dark for a moment. No noise.

JORDON screaming and falling through empty black space.

Thumping sound, like something falling on the floor.

CUT TO:

 Camera sideways on the floor, JORDON lying facing down.

JORDON lifts himself up, and camera raises and straitens with him.

(silently) CUT TO:

Camera at same angle as first shot. Image is of the same kitchen, but changed. The fridge is open, with the door broken and hanging off of it. The table is missing a leg and leaning. Everything is dirty, with broken beer and pill bottles open on the ground. There are no pictures of his family. Everything is literally darker, as there are no lights on.

JORDON is significantly older, wearing ruined clothes, and has a long untrimmed beard.

Having moved passed his previous perspective of reality, he enters a separate, darker one. In this one, he is an alcoholic and drug addict, and previous world was imagined to hide from grief.

JORDON:

No…

JORDON begins to run around the room frantically. He is shouting and slamming into the walls.

(silently) CUT TO:

JORDON’S face. He has his hands on his head and is shouting. He squeezes his eyes shut and screams, then opens them.

CUT TO:

Image of MARIE’s face in original kitchen and original reality. She appears worried.


MARIE

Dear are you alright? Why are you screaming?

Music comes in, the same calm sound as first shot.

Camera turns around and pans out to show JORDON with his family around him. They are all staring at him. The kitchen is in its original condition. JORDON is facing the wall that he saw moving, MARIE is directly in front of him with a hand on his shoulder.

JORDON

Oh thank god.

JORDON leans forward and hugs MARIE. Camera begins rotating around to the left, towards the wall with the door in it. Both faces go through the view, JORDON’s near ecstatic relief contrasting MARIE’s worry.

MARIE

You’ve been acting strange lately…

JORDON
It’s alright, I…

Camera is no at a side view of JORDON and MARIE, still hugging. JORDON’s is facing away from the camera and toward window. His reflection is visible in the window, looking confused. Reflection shows him with his arms around nothing, and the room empty except for himself, while MARIE is still visible outside the reflection.

Music changes into ominous rumble.

(silently) CUT TO:

JORDON turning his head to face forward. He is horrified.

(silently) CUT TO:

MARIE’S face. This time her innocent smile contrasts JORDON’s worry.

MARIE

Is something wrong?

(silently) CUT TO:

Couple from a side view, window visible in background showing JORDON by himself. He closes his eyes and reaches forward, his hand passes through MARIE.

CUT TO:

The kitchen, dirty with broken furniture, from the original angle. JORDON alone with his hand reaching forward.

Music returns to loud distorted sounds.

JORDON

 No no no no….

JORDON grabs his head and screams.

CUT TO:

Camera facing down toward JORDIN lying in a bed, sleeping. His eyes open and he sits up, camera moves to side view of him in a bedroom. His understanding of reality is switching between possible alternate explanations, one is that it was a dream.

JORDON looks around the room.

CUT TO:

JORDON in a strait jacket, in a dark and padded cell room.

JORDON looks around himself frantically. He screams and struggles to get out of the strait jacket. A buzzer goes off, and two people in doctor’s coats run in and grab him. They inject him with something. He is considering that he was insane.

CUT TO:

JORDON back in kitchen with ruined furniture.

Flicking continues, with shots continuously changing between JORDON with his family, alone with the broken furniture, in a bed, in the padded cell, in the dark cavern, and in a doctor’s office. Flicking increases speed as music gets louder, returning to distorted noise.

Scene ends with one final flick and a black screen.

Flick
This is a screenplay written for a writing class I was taking. I like the idea of it, but I'm more used to writing stories. What do people think?
Loading...
Mr. Creepy Pasta did an excellent reading of "Stop", check it out!
  • Playing: chess

deviantID

EricAMBM
Eric
Artist | Literature
Canada
Tried writing a while ago, am trying again. I gave some of my stuff to someone else's account, and it seemed to do well, so I started my own.
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:icondomaex:
Domaex Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Woo! Congrats on the daily deviation!
Reply
:iconericambm:
EricAMBM Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2017   Writer
thanks a lot! :)
Reply
:iconbatboyexe:
BatboyEXE Featured By Owner May 20, 2016
Happy Birthday! :) :cake: :party:
Reply
:iconericambm:
EricAMBM Featured By Owner May 21, 2016   Writer
thanks a lot :)
Reply
:iconradiantincandescence:
RadiantIncandescence Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2015   General Artist
Hello! It seems you are a winner of an Every-Art-Ever Folder Contest! In terms of a joke I made, I now will present you with this message: GG.

Sincerely, group admin Haru/RadiantIncandescence
Reply
:iconericambm:
EricAMBM Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2015   Writer
thanks a lot!

and yes, it was a good game
Reply
:icongabrielebf4fan:
GabrielEBF4Fan Featured By Owner Jun 21, 2015  Student Traditional Artist
I love a lot the stories you write!
Reply
:iconericambm:
EricAMBM Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2015   Writer
thanks! I appreciate it :)
Reply
:icongabrielebf4fan:
GabrielEBF4Fan Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2015  Student Traditional Artist
No problem,keep it up with all your awesome literature!
Reply
:iconfantasylover103:
fantasylover103 Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hi, welcome to :iconevery-art-ever:

I'm Yuna, the founder of the group and my fellow admins are Seminon, RadiantIncandescence and kittimitti We're so happy you're here! Talk to us if you have any questions/complaints/ideas. :o We'd love to listen. 

If you wanna be an admin send us a note talking about your ideas/expertise. 

We have a group rules on our main page, but in general be nice to everyone. :3 '

Alright! We hope you have a wonderful time here, thank you for joining our group! :D

-Yuna :rose:
Reply
Add a Comment: