The Division

[Barrister of Munchkinland]

I've had these reviewed on two different websites, one was a forum and another was a writing site named Writingdotcom. I've had quite good reviews on these and I would like to know what you people think of my work. ^^ Also, the reason I'm not posting these separately is because they're either short stories or poems, so there isn't really any need for a new thread for each.

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Dystopia/Utopia (9K/EN1 writing task):

A blanket of death wrapped around my tense, stiff corpse. A coating of white smothered the brown remains of the, previously, thriving vegetation, leaving no sign of activity. Blackened tree-trunks, thinned and gnarled, were placed in random areas of the almost plain-white canvas. A result of the past. A thick, white fog engulfed the darkness and what little life we had, unable to find our way, we rested our weared, and weathered bodies against the crying and crumbling memories that provided us little shelter. We wished for our fire to be hyperactive, yet, it wasn't.

Two, tiny, sooty logs lapped over each other like a wooden 'X,' lumps of white and see-through, solid wet grew on the two logs, parasites. In the intercepting point, warmth burst out, only slightly, only small. The warmth battled against the invisible enemy, to our misfortune, warmth was at a disadvantage. The battle was allready over, way before it had begun.

Poof!

The light and the warmth shrank an crackled in an eruption of smoke, twisting, distorting it's way through the fog, soon melting in with it. No warmth. No life. Nothing to combat the darness. Before the hope had died, we kept ourselves amused by a dancing, twisting, growling silhouette, a figure in the darkness, blocked from our view by the unknown death. Memories creaked and cried against the strong wind that raced towards our backs, blocked only by the memories. Another brick of memories shifted and pushed itself off the edge, hitting the ever-waiting whit and dissolving, the white absorbing the bric of memories on impact.

Unable to do anything else, we tried to keep our memory shelter from collapsing and revealing us to the darkness outside. We knew the darkness wanted to get in, it's claws pounding and scraping against the side of our memory shelter. Screeching. Wailing. Never-ending.

I dug my hand, slowly and warily, into my destroyed, denim jeans' pocket. Unable to root too much or too fast due to the companion to darkness, I did so, slowly. Then I located it, a circular, tube-like object. Wrapping my ice-cube fingers around the tube, I yanked it out. I fumbled with my fingers to locate a button, a switch. I felt the smooth, metallic exterior, freezing on touch. I slid my blue-tinted fingers along it, looking for an odd bump.

"Aha!"

I found it, a rough, plastic bump, covered in tiny holes, and a marking, 'on/off.' I press down, slowly, the solid-wet coating my thumb breaking off, and a small beam of yellow life shot out, revealing the golden-brown bricks of memories that are sporting a layer of dust and abandoned cobwebs, you see, flies don't fly in Dystopia. I wave my beam of life around, bricks, white-ground, trees, everything being clear now. I smile as I finally see my companion, the one who kept my sane, he had become a victim to darkness long before I did. His face, blue, destroyed. His moustache, stuck in place for eternity.

However, if it wasn't his heart beating, then it was the silhouette...

I washed my life all over the place, furiously. Life bouncing off the bricks off the cold, cold snow, off the trees, long since dead, off the frozen bodies, lacking nutrients and light, off the dancing silhouette in the corner of the memory. A low growl emitted from the silhouette, echoing corner to corner of the memory. Blinking, a furry, grey creature appeared next to me.

Gulp.

Many days beforehand, a bright, orange sun sung life from it's body, the life passing quickly through the deep, sapphire blue fortress named 'the sky.' Below the fortress was a brilliantly blue stream, full of life. Emerald green grass danced and swayed to the song sung by the sun and the melody hummed by the wind. Flowers; red, pink and purple, danced and played along with the grass, enjoying the beat created by the many passing feet of the villagers. The villagers, all carrying some form of box, smiled warmly as they trekked down the grey, brown and white mountain trail, to 'Utopia.'

Animals played and ran through the grass towards the villagers; foxes, rabbits, mice, cats, dogs and wolves trotted together down the path. Eagles, pigeons, swallows, ducks, robins and owls flew overhead, guarding their villagers. Otters, fish and frogs swam by in the near streams. Life was plentiful in 'Utopia.' Every villager, there being twnety or so, stopped as they reached a point. They looked over the valley they would soon call they're new home 'Utopia,' they feared their past home and had looked forward to the 'rise of the sun,' summer time beginning in other words, to move away from 'Dystopia.'

I knew I should've followed the villagers, the wolf before me is deciding my death, slow or painful. He looks sadistic...

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Predator and Prey

The tiny droplet of water swelled and distorted as it gained in size, hanging on a thin thread of smaller droplets all joining up to their home; the tap. The tap was only about five centimetres in height, formed and moulded into the trunk-like shape. A silver coating glistened in the light of the three white lamps protruding from the white-tiled ceiling. The droplet reflected all of this, even the olive green bath that was directly beneath it. What fate that droplet would receive was unpredictable, but would, most likely, end up with it and many others like it descending into the inky, murky depths of the drain. What awaited them there was unknown...

The Hunter, sleek and rugged, prowled through the Jungle named '106 Ryefield Street.' A coating of fuzzy, black fur, balded away near his rear and stomach, moved along with the Hunter's body as he creeped and crawled across the wooden foliage. He blinked, his yellow, street-light like, eyes shutting for a brief second, then, poof, opened up again. The yellow sea surrounded a small, black island known as the pupil, the pupil was glazed over like a varnished table and reflected whatever light like one aswell. The Hunter's thin and slick body was about 50 centimetres in length. This length was ended by a small, round head. The head was topped with two, triangular ears. These ears were small, stubby, equilateral, not pointed at the edge, more rounded. The head dipped for about two seconds before reaching his determined eyes, then dropping again for another centimetre before finding his tiny, black nose, patched at the bottom right by a small, white blob. This blob lead to a small patch of white above his mouth, where two, sharp, devilish fangs hung out.

The Hunter found his destination, the bathroom. This area of the jungle was to the East of the higher regions. He slowly padded into it, the four paws in rhythmic joy. As he entered the new region, an overwhelming sense of coldness struck him. The four white-tiled walls, grey due to the light being off, sealed the white toilet, the green basin, the white radiator and the olive green bath. It was then that the Hunter saw his prey, he leapt forward into the olive green bath and bounded up to the tap, eyeing his prey.

The droplet shivered and shook, the weight of the oncoming Hunter shaking the whole bath. The droplet couldn't hold on as the Hunter stared in awe at the droplet's line...the droplet and many of it's brethren perished as they fell, falling, falling, falling...but not onto their olive-landing, no, they landed on an awaiting paw. The Hunter, terrified at the feeling of the droplets jumped back, then forgetting about it, the Hunter slowly licked his paw dry and carried on with his hunting. The droplet, forgotten...

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Who I am (Award winning =D)

Darkness created a thick shadow over the room, the only light was the dim light emitting from the Laptop on the desk near the destroyed door. The door was many years old, and made of wood, so it didn't, couldn't survive much. The light emitted cloaked everything in the room, the gratified walls, covered in smears of deodorant, the smashed shelf balancing a television and a CD-player, a metal bunk-bed, scarred and damage from many fights, the two mattresses also scarred, damaged and wreck due to excessive usage, the white radiator, smudged in years of crayon, play-doh, chocolate, pain, and the window, split into three equal parts, slapped with stickers. The room was silent, nothing could be heard...

Apart from the steady, rhythmic heartbeat directing towards a hunched over boy. His wild, ginger hair covering his pointed, at the bottom, ear and made him scratch it with two, dry, dirty fingers, coated in weeks of dirt and soot, the fingers motioned up and down, slowly. The boy breathed in, his crimson, chapped lips splitting apart like a miniature earthquake, air getting sucked in slowly, then released at the same rate. His teeth, yellowed through months of abuse and forgetfulness, shook a little in their place. Further upwards, his large nostrils flared for a second, the skin inflating then deflating quickly. The bright, red, oily spot on the tip of it squirming as he did this. As the bridge got narrower, it came up towards two grey bags of skin, these being created due to lack of sleep, that rested under two blue eyes. Each eye blood-shot differently. Yet, both looked the same. The iris, not quite blue, not quite turquoise, thinned and thinned until it reached a circular pupil, black and soulless.

The child, stretching, sat up. This showing off his spectacularly skinny arms, that turned into flab at the end of them. The flab dangling over two arm pits, the walls of the pits dripping with sweat that trickled down towards the cluster of hairs all crumpled and forgotten. These pits led slowly to the boy's chest, tiny, blonde hairs poked out from between his nipples, causing almost a 'furred' effect. The chest lead to a spherical explosion outwards, a stomach protruded from this, large and well-fed, due to the many years of eating the wrong food, and not caring. This churned as it lead to a pair of ripped, denim jeans. These loose and showing, only slightly, a pair of large, grey boxers...lets not go into that area, shall we?

The jeans dangled slowly over two bare, disgustingly dirty feet. Each toe, blistered and sore, were cut and swollen. The toes wriggled in the dirt as the boy yawned. His yellow rat's teeth rattling. He stood up and sat on a chair, this chair pointed outwards, outwards towards the dark, inky sky dotted with small, white 'Christmas lights.' He sighed and closed his eyes. This stayed the norm for five minutes, not a soul moving. Until a small, cascading tear fell from his eye. Then another, and another!

This boy. This disgustingly dirty, forgetful boy. This boy who would spend his days moaning and crying about the internet and what's located in it. This boy who was overweight, smart-arsed, ginger-haired and homosexual. This boy who, above of all this, gave to charity. This boy who looked disgusting.

This boy who is me...

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Shadows

Trees danced and swayed in the wind as an eerie breeze pushed through them, pushing them aside. The emerald green grass also danced due to the wind, but not as much, piles of golden, crispy leaves were dotted and spread across the canvas of grass. Black, thin tree trunks creaked by the power of the wind, envying their still living brethren. Black, plump breasted crows flew in circles above the scene, almost as if they were guarding it.

The breeze creeps past my face,
Easily,
Slowly,
Leaves descend from their homes,
Then drift across the ground,
Easily,
Slowly.

I push through them, staring,
Upwards,
Forwards,
Towards the sapphire sky,
Dragging myself, slowly,
Onwards,
Upwards.

Through my staring, through the crowds and crowds of busy, self indulged shoppers stacked with bags and screaming children, through the cascading golden, green, red leaves that spin and flee downwards from their tree-masters, I see darkness, shadows, pain...but nobody in the crowds seem to care at the suffering right behind them. They're more focused on getting home, far away from the pain. The people in the pain, the darkness, the shadows are always ignored, always.

The shadows twist, play, taunt,
Screaming,
Dying,
Life caught by the shadows,
Never lives, darkness kills,
Taunting,
Killing.

Unable to stop them,
Helpless,
Useless,
The forgotten left to,
Die, screaming until death,
Helpless,
Alone.

I stare through the thinned crowds, it becoming night. I stare until I cannot stand there any more, unable to save the souls lost in the darkness. Yet I know there is a possibility, that I will end up lost, alone, forgotten in the shadows...

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Streetlight

I enter. Darkness passes
me by as I feel for light.
My sight, gone like so many
lives, the few who come and go,
living, crying, dying. Life.

Renegade thoughts disturbing
my one chance at piece, anger.
I stumble, pain striking, then
laughter as I feel water
fall upon me. Wish for death.

But no, pain erupts, water
teasing my skin, tickling
the surface, but killing the
innards, slowly. Looking up
I see nothing, darkness lives.

I stumble, once, twice, thrice, stop.
I see...a light? Yes! It's true
I see, I find, the light I
was searching for. The heavens,
no. A street light, my saviour...

I, the pain, burning, want to
fly up there. To the peace, love,
life of the Street light. The burn-
ing stops, finally. Now I
can find my Street light heaven...

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Sparky_the_Chu Vore trade

The scorching heat and blindingly bright light, transmitted from the bright, yellow sun, entered a dimly lit room. This being the only light other than what the computer screen released. The walls were coated in a fine, grey paper with lumps that poked out like tiny hills and a pattern, a canine’s paw, which dotted and spread across the four walls. These four walls were equal in length and depth making the room a perfect cube. A metre or so to the left of the computer was a rectangular-shaped object. This object hung from the wall, with a small screen on it. Not-so-much a television, but still pretty close. Resting parallel to the television was a small, brown settee, the material? Different patches of things: leather, silk, kitchen clothe…and fur. Most of the sofa was made by brown-y-red stained fur.

Other than the settee, the computer and the television, there was a small seat that could be found just in front of the computer. A circular, silk covered top kept up by four wooden legs. Resting upon this stool was an anthropomorphic Pikachu. Two pointed, yellow ears capped with a black end, eyes which stared intensely at the computer screen. Long, brown hair that slightly covered his eyes, the hair being held into place a little bit by a pair of goggles. His nose, black and triangular, inflated only a tiny bit as he breathed in and then deflated as he breathed out. Only for a second did two sparks explode from his two red, circular cheeks, he was quite happy, those reasons still unknown.

He was crouched over, his back, bare and yellow, was curved over. His chin almost lost in his fluffy, uncontrolled, white chest fur. His upper body was lost in the shadows created by his computer, most of it was yellow except a streak of white which cascaded down his torso until it reached his crotch, but lets not go anywhere near there. Covering his legs were a pair of blue jeans, ripped into threads at the bottom. These threads dangled and danced over his black foot-paw, whenever they moved they were forced to dance.

He stretched. Standing up, he yawned and sat down on his settee. He yawned, showing a vicious array of sharp, pointed teeth. Stretched again and clicked the red, ‘on’, button located at the front of his remote. Suddenly, the television blasted on. A man on screen was talking in front of a chemical plant, about a toxic chemical that might be spreading across the town. This wasn’t to the Pikachu’s interest and he clicked another button, a documentary. This, also, was no interest to the Pikachu. Sighing, he stretched one more time and curled up on the settee. Quickly falling asleep.

This Pikachu wasn’t the only person living in the house. No, there also was his pet, a bi-eyed Siberian Husky. He was a new pet, a pup, and was only just getting used to the surroundings of his master’s apartment. How the many micro come and go every week. This all was new. He stood at only a foot-and-a-half in height and his head was still quite large. His colours? Well, he was dotted with different blacks and browns, but his main colour was white. For a pup, his legs were quite muscular and fast and his eye-sight was able to pick up on even the smallest escaping micro. His master had trained him to, if he catches an escaping micro, to play with it violently before swallowing it, whole. He had never caught an escaping micro, but he seemed to enjoy their brief company.

His eyes were, as you guessed, two different colours, one brown and one blue. His blue one, for reasons unknown, was much more able to sense micros than the brown one. These two eyes rested upon his white, brown and black face. His ears were pointed into a triangle, they were mostly brown, but white near the edges and, like his master, a black-tipped-top. His muzzle protruding from his face was also tipped black, but there was no brown, as there was more brown located on his forehead. His nose was a deep, shiny black nose, powerful enough to sniff out a micro I the dark. He Husky was curled up in a bed right next to the door his master was in.

A strange, new scent wafted past his nose. This scent was not good though, it smelt of how lemons tasted. Overly sour. The Husky, scared, fled into his Master’s room and stood in front of his Master, unknowing of his Master’s dwindling size. He stood guard until the smell went, he turned around to check up on his Master. All he saw was a tiny Pikachu, thinking it was a micro who had taken his Master, the Husky growled at the ‘micro.’

The anthropomorphic Pikachu was awoken upon hearing the noise. He stood up, greeted by two, huge, brown, furry paws. He squeaked, his eyes and head moving up the giant’s body and up to it’s head. It was the Pikachu’s faithful pet. The husky surely wouldn’t harm him. He smiled and walked closer to the pup, only to have the air knocked right out of him as the pup pins him beneath his large footpaw. He paw started getting heavier and heavier as the pup applied more and more pressure onto the Pikachu, thinking he was an intruding micro. The Pikachu squeaked yet again as the paw was almost crushing him, soon the sound of bones crunching and snapping filled his ears. Yet, only for one second.

“H-huh?” The Pikachu questioned, noting the paw had been lifted off from him and was now by his feet. “Good boy! This is me, Sparky, your master!” Sparky cried out, frantically waving his arms. The husky, only understanding the word ‘Sparky’ in that sentence, just growled again. Thinking of something he could do to torture the micro mouse before eating it. An idea sprang to mind something that his master did, he would sit on his prey before eating them.

Sparky sighed in relief when the Husky pup moved his paws away. He shifted a couple of times before standing up and walking up close towards his now giant, to him, pet. He smiled towards his pet, who was grinning evilly. Sparky then started backing away, the grin his pup was sporting was similar to the grin he would sport when torturing a micro. Sparky knew he couldn’t move from the settee, he was trapped, helpless in the husky’s control.

The Husky just watched as the ‘micro’ helplessly moved backwards, nowhere to go. He turned around, his tail hole pointing towards Sparky’s direction. Panting wildly, the pup slowly, but quick enough so Sparky couldn’t run, descended his rear ontop of his Master. Sparky made sure he wouldn’t be crushed, but couldn’t make sure of anything else, least of all an ‘accident.’ Sparky squeaked again with pressure, but this time, no broken bones as the rear ascended back to it’s position.

The dog growled one last time, twisting his whole body round, now facing his former Master. His muzzle darted quickly down towards the helpless body of the shrunken Pikachu, sniffing. The Husky pondered for a second, whether he should eat the micro, or just let it go. His Master wasn’t around and he did torture it enough. The Husky pup raised his head, to the relief of Sparky.

The Husky panted. He hadn’t been fed in a while, and his was starving. His Master wasn’t there, no food was out in his bowl. The only substance the pup could use as food was the tiny micro, whose body was almost crushed. The Husky then shook his head and lowered his muzzle back to where it was a few seconds before, right in front of Sparky. With a terrifying view of the Husky’s sharp, white teeth, Sparky was brought into the Husky’s mouth.

The rest of the story? Well, I think you can work it out yourself…

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If there aren't semi-colons where there should be, it's because;
1. I don't know how to use 'em.
2. I don't trust word with them, it tries to make me add them into every sentence.

Anyways, enjoy! :3