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About Literature / Hobbyist Vixel SpessemperMale/United States Group :icondragontopia: Dragontopia
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    Hey guys.  I haven't been around much huh?  If the title didn't give it away, I am falling apart from stress.  I have an ACT test this Saturday and a big math test tomorrow.  School life has been a drag and my home life has left with more questions than answers about my future.  My eldest brother is overseas again, my sister is off a law school, and my two brothers my own age hardly even talk to me.  My Junior year at high school is fast approaching its end and I have a very vague plan for my college life.  I hardly get to talk to my friends here and the ones I used to talk to are an ocean away.  I am bored to tears at home and am stuck in a inner battle that's been going on for a while now.  All of this finally hit me in its entirety this week.  It's been a harrowing few days.  Also my sister-in-law is still estranged with my parents.

    Thankfully I'm getting past this and working through each problem one by one.  Given enough time I'm sure I'll come out for the better.

-Sincerely, Vixel
I was listening to a storm radio put of curiosity and stumbled upon a news station. They were doing a segment on different people's opinions on various recent events. One particular part was about the whole 'Pray For Paris' thing that had exploded all over the internet. They asked an Evangelist Pastor, a Jewish Rabbi, and a Muslim Imam about what this means for their respective religions.

The Pastor replied that they should pray for those hurt by the bombings and the bombers themselves, to see the errors of their ways and be brought to justice and forgiveness.

The Rabbi said that it shows the potential for evil in all humans and that they should try to better themselves.

The Imam stated that it 'Pray For Paris' means that they should recognize the brotherhood of humanity and how they should help others and serve together under God.

As a Christian and optimist myself, I feel that the first option is my prefered and perfect response but I also highly doubt that Isis will drop their weapons anytime soon.

What do you guys think?
In the coldest of times,
In the briefest of moments
We see the orange of our furies,
The red of our passions,
The yellow of our joys
And cast them off.

New becomes Old
What was wastes away.
Our memories fill
With a bright moon
 And a pale sun,
A time past now long gone.

Fear not these broken times
When the past seems strong,
When the road seems long.
Let the weight fall away
Push beyond what was
To become who you want to be.
Fall Away
Prompt: Fall and themes of fall

Inspiration: Life

This piece is much more personal than any other before it.  I've had my struggles with letting go and becoming a better person.  What you see online isn't exactly the same as in real life and for that I am sorry.  It's a piece that's charged with the feeling of renewal of one's self, as the autumn represents for me.  Hope you enjoy it and Happy Thanksgiving.
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    It is common knowledge that Victor was a bad man.  He had done bad things with bad intentions to good people.  Victor wasn’t one to gloat over others misfortune, unless he was the one causing it.  Victor feared death to no end and would sooner drown his own mother than get caught.  Victor was a bad man, and a stupid man, too, for you see he forgot to hide one bit of blood on his boots.  The day afterwards and iron bars took up one of his walls.

    It is common knowledge that those who break the law are punished.  Victor had broken many laws and would get the ultimate punishment; execution.  ‘His head would roll’ some said.  ‘He’ll be burned alive’ others said.  None could agree what he would get only that he was going to get it and get it good.  A few days later, it was announced that Victor would hang in the town square until dead.  All agreed with this.  Hanging was an undignified, disgraceful way to go.  All your body held in falls out and you stare at the world with glassy eyes like a dumb person.  It would do perfectly for Victor.

    It is common knowledge that the hangman is just a man who pulls a lever.  He wasn’t anybody special.  Why, anybody could be a hangman!  The nice lady with the dimples who grows plants for herself.  The young man with a penchant for hanging near taverns for too long.  Even the little girl down the street with a worn dolly.  Anyone could be a hangman but no one could escape the hangman.
It is common knowledge in the little village that Victor grew up in that when a hangman died before he executed someone, there was curse, the Hangman’s Curse.  It is said that the spirit of the hangman is restless for an incomplete job and will haunt his victim ‘til he too is dead.  This was a mere tale to Victor, meant to scare him to not break the law.  Well, no hangman ghost would be after him!  He was Victor!  He was confident that he was unstoppable.

    One night, when the town was especially tired, Victor escaped prison.  No one to this day can tell how he did it but they can tell you that they weren’t frightened a bit.  ‘The Hangman’s Curse will get him!  That old constable won’t need to walk a two steps ‘fore he sees Vic’s hanging corpse.’  Now a new speculation rose through the town; what would hang Victor?  An errant vine hanging off a tree?  An old crone hidden away in the woods looking for some prey?  ‘Maybe he’d get caught in a rabbit trap’ some bitter hearted people joked.  No one could tell you how Victor would get hanged but he would most certainly hang.

    Victor however was right as rain.  “I’m free as a bird!  Sprung as a spring!”  Victor loved winning.  It was his name after all.  He won at every game and this was no exception.  He had won the greatest game of all!  Victor had cheated death.  “Bugger the hangman and his curse, I out ran Ol’ Cold!”  The winters were harsh where he lived and were synonymous with death.  Thus, they called death Old Cold, cute but accurate.

    Freedom, however, wasn’t an easily attainable thing.  After running with gleeful abandon for a half mile Victor began to feel the weight of exhaustion.  His lungs were set ablaze by the cool air and his muscles wailed in protest at their recent abuse.  Prison food isn’t known for its nutritious value and had taken its toll after the long months in jail.  Limply, without any care, he fell to the ground, taking refuge in the moss earth.  “Just gonna sleep for a bit.  Nothin’ to fear.  None a them can find ol’ Victor.”  Victor found sleep and held fast to its comforts.

    The town circle was full.  Of people, of guards, of dogs, and of leering shadows that watched Victor.  They didn’t show themselves but Victor saw them.  In his head he saw their black eyes, judging him and finding him wanting.  The people jittered about, not seeing the convict or his little shadows.  They instead watched the center stage.  A new hangman with a new convict were on stage waiting for their cues.  The soundless crowd would have been unnerving otherwise but this felt like a special occasion.  This was the hangman’s first victim, any comfort for the novice was appreciated, even silence in place of jeers.

    Victor was smiling.  He wasn’t the one being hanged.  He had beaten Old Cold and now some sap was going to take the fall.  It would be a short fall of course.  The crowd would be satisfied with the work and everyone could go home with a clear conscience.  The death of the guilty always assuaged the common man in the most mysterious ways.  This was all fine by Victor naturally.  Freedom was the ultimate victory.

    The hangman pulled the lever and Victor felt the ground drop out from under him.

    Falling wasn’t fun, even in dreams.  When one fell they often reached for the closest thing they could to stop the fall.  For Victor, that was a grass snake.  It was slimy, gross and harmless but a snake all the same.  “Bleedin’ women on Sunday!”  The unfortunate serpent got tossed a distance away and was quite agitated for the rest of the day.  The other snake in the grass however slithered away as fast he could.  Morning dew made him cold along with his terror as whistling wind blew past.  “Ol’ Cold ain’t gonna snatch me with no biter!  No bleeding biter gonna get me!”

    Victor liked talking to himself.  It’s quite easy to notice but the extent of this psychosis needs to be stated.  Ever since he was able to make sounds he talked to himself.  At first it was a cute little deviation that all thought would fade with maturity.  Instead it increased as time passed.  The sound of his own voice sweeter him at times than the grandest music known to man.  It was narcissism, plain and simple.

    So enamored was at this moment with his voice and the fear burning his veins that he didn’t see the house until he tripped over an errant log and into the wooden wall.  His face was cut open by the rough material and his leg was bruised black from the trip.  He couldn’t move as well but he could most certainly scream.  “AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!”  Shrillness filled the air and a murder of birds flew for better housing.  Victor writhed on the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding with his cold hands.  His blood, despite the cool morning air, was hot against his skin.  It would’ve been welcome had the pain not be in the same package.

    Victor writhed enough to leave a patch of grass dead from his pain.  Green was stained with touches of red mingled with tears.  The agony made Victor mute to the world and he didn’t notice the frail but firm hand that guided him into the wooden house.  He did notice the water that struck his burning face and force the pain to a new height.  Instinct kicked in and pushed him to grab the bony hand.  He felt the old bones under his grip and knew that it would take little to shatter them.  Another hand appeared atop his.  It was gentle and leathery as old skin often was.  His pain didn’t subside but it seemed distant.  There in the back of his mind where he could still feel it but not enough to bring agony surging up.

    “Hush, dearie.  Squirming won’t make those splinters disappear.”  Victor opened his eyes and saw the old hag.  She was ancient as the land around her, seeming like a burlap bag tossed lazily over a woman’s skeleton.  Her woolen shawl hung over her shoulders tight as a mask.  “Now let old grandma Vivi take care o’ you dearie.”

    Victor didn’t fight her touch this time.  She was delicate in extracting the splinters with her talon-esque finger nails.  It was numbness that Victor couldn’t explain.  The hag seemed to entrance him with but a few simple words and his cold and heat had settled into quietude.  Never could he think of an instance where he was unwilling quiet.  His voice was his one comfort and the hag had circumvented that so easily.  It unnerved Victor to his core.

    “There were ‘re.  Fit as a fiddle y’re.”  The hag reached for a tray and placed it between.  The house was covered in her knit work.  Scarves hanged from the rafters like streamers, doilies were piled on tables in all size and patterns, and blankets covered every sitting place in sight.  The colors were of the rainbow, blues and reds and greens and yellows and all the in betweens.

    Victor didn’t touch the tea offered to him.  It was steaming with warmth and he had had enough of that in his face in the past few seconds.  “What’s an old lady like you doin’ out in these parts?”  It was question that anyone would ask and Victor was anyone.
The hag chuckled with the crackle of a warm fire.  “I live on my o’n, livin’ off the kindn’ss of the land an’ all.  My son, Ernst, works w’th the nearby village, keeps all the rabble ‘ousers under lock an’ ke’.”

    Victor felt a seizing in his chest.  “Ernst ya say?  I think I know the fellow.  On the shorter side and not very talky.  Sound like ‘im?”  He prayed to whomever would hear that she was wrong.

    The hag put her cup back down with contented sigh.  “That’s ‘im.  Pride an’ joy of my ‘art he is.  Wished he’d chose different line o’ work tho’.  Poor boy t’ought he could beat ta world.”  Her eyes glistened as she kept on.  Victor needn’t wonder why.

    Victor stood up with a sudden spark of hot and cold in his body.  “I gotta go ma.”  He slithered to the door but didn’t make it.  The hag’s grip was unnatural for certain to hold him in place.  “Look verrutucke Grobmutter I’ve gotta go.  I’ve gotta see my wife and kid.“
“Oh, just stay a little long’r.  I just got the tea hot an‘ it would be kindly o‘ yer to keep me company.“ The hag frightened Victor.  Not for her strength or insistance but for her eyes.  She knew.  The hag knew him to be convict and planned to poison him dead.  Without a thought, he smacked her away.  The hag fell to the floor with a cawing cry.

    Victor fled from the house.  He heard the old hag shout in a gibberish tongue at him but his feet were flying.  The woods were flying by as he ran to nowhere.  The sky was flying by as the sound of blood rushing filled his ears.  A small trip and the rushing got stronger.  He was flying, flying, stop...

    Around eight days later, Victor was found hanging from an old swinging rope over a rushing river.  His skin was pale as sand, his eyes staring emptily at the river below.  A crow had taken to biting his face leaving holes in his it as bugs crawled over his rotting form.  Victor was down and buried in a ditch nearby with the respect he deserved.

    It is common knowledge that Victor’s tracks barely got past the town limits.  Everyone knew he was a terrible runner since he broke his leg while walking around talking to himself.  He just never had the strength to fully recover.  Since then he relied on the the tolerance of others to help him.  When that stopped working, he cheated many a person into poverty with his slick words.  He had even cheated a man’s daughter into death and his fate was sealed soon after.

    It is common knowledge that old grandma Vivi never met the man.  No one denied this claim because many believed she was a witch.  The curses that she was known to cast were tight as the coffin her victims ended up in.  She said she never met the man and no one questioned it.

    It is common knowledge that the ground was quite slipperly that particular morning.  The cold had masked the morning dew to most people and Victor was most people.  One wrong step and the rope grabbed him in its fatal embrace.

    It is common knowledge that Victor was a snake.  Victor was vile, cheating, self-important snake.  He did nothing for others and was given every oppertunity to change.  The hag had wanted to give him a cup of tea and he tossed in her face.  But in the end, that’s not important, it was never important.  In the end all that mattered is the hangman’s job was done.  After all, everyone knows that the hangman always get his job done.
Hangman, Hangman
This is the first of quite a few submissions that I'll do.  They'll all be from my Creative Writing class with varying degrees of quality from great to OH HEAVENLY FATHER WHY!?!?

Prompt: Free Write

Inspiration: Grimm Fairytales
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Hello all! Long time no journal!

This one will be short since there's a lot to report on. I am currently working on a collab with :icondragonlover2170: on his story. I will begin posting these soon-ish.

As for Return To Heaven, that's going on the backburner for a while. (Like it TOTALLY hasn't been for months.) I want to make that story perfect and I time to do that.

Sincerely, Vixel
    Hey guys.  I haven't been around much huh?  If the title didn't give it away, I am falling apart from stress.  I have an ACT test this Saturday and a big math test tomorrow.  School life has been a drag and my home life has left with more questions than answers about my future.  My eldest brother is overseas again, my sister is off a law school, and my two brothers my own age hardly even talk to me.  My Junior year at high school is fast approaching its end and I have a very vague plan for my college life.  I hardly get to talk to my friends here and the ones I used to talk to are an ocean away.  I am bored to tears at home and am stuck in a inner battle that's been going on for a while now.  All of this finally hit me in its entirety this week.  It's been a harrowing few days.  Also my sister-in-law is still estranged with my parents.

    Thankfully I'm getting past this and working through each problem one by one.  Given enough time I'm sure I'll come out for the better.

-Sincerely, Vixel

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Ivasskarr
Vixel Spessemper
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am an aspiring writer who thinks pink is EVIL.
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:icondragonlover2170:
Dragonlover2170 Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2015  Student General Artist
Hey. ^^
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:iconivasskarr:
Ivasskarr Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hey-o!
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:icondragonlover2170:
Dragonlover2170 Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2015  Student General Artist
How do you like my fatherly love mini sefies? ^^ all art is made by Soyea-code.
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:iconivasskarr:
Ivasskarr Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
It's cute. It works as little snippets like it is and the art just further shows the adorable nature of the comic. A really good comic all in all.
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(1 Reply)
:iconredlightningnod608:
RedLightningNOD608 Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2015  Student General Artist
SORRY, BUT I'M DELETING YOU FROM MY LIFE! *clicks delete*
LOADING... ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 99%................................ ERROR! It is impossible to delete our friendship. You mean so much to me!
Post this to 10 people's walls who you never want to lose. If you get 3 back, you're an amazing friend. :3
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:icondragonlover2170:
Dragonlover2170 Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2015  Student General Artist
SORRY, BUT I'M DELETING YOU FROM MY LIFE! *clicks delete*
LOADING... ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 99%................................ ERROR! It is impossible to delete our friendship. You mean so much to me!
Post this to 10 people's walls who you never want to lose. If you get 3 back, you're an amazing friend. :3
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:iconyou-had-me-at-pizza:
you-had-me-at-PIZZA Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
SORRY, BUT I'M DELETING YOU FROM MY LIFE! *clicks delete*
LOADING... ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 99%................................ ERROR! It is impossible to delete our friendship. You mean so much to me!
Post this to 10 people's walls who you never want to lose. If you get 3 back, you're an amazing friend. :3
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:icondragonlover2170:
Dragonlover2170 Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2015  Student General Artist
Hey ivasskarr. If you're up, meet me in chatzy where we met yesterday. See you there. ^^
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:iconthunderclawshocktrix:
ThunderClawShocktrix Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2015   Digital Artist
hi
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:iconivasskarr:
Ivasskarr Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hey-o!
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