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Undiscovered Weekly: Literature

Fri Jan 25, 2013, 5:48 AM

Welcome to the Literature Edition of Undiscovered Weekly

In  case you're not familiar with it yet, Undiscovered  Weekly is a series of articles aimed at putting a spotlight on  some otherwise unknown talent across dA's various galleries.

Who's Featured in This Article?

:iconriencuran: :iconhfeather53: :iconmistressofquills:

Riencuran's Interview

Take a moment to introduce yourself.  Tell me a bit about your interests and your writing.
I started scribbling poetry and telling stories when I was a kid and  never really stopped. I get struck by an idea or a phrase and I write it  down on whatever happens to be handy, whether it's an email draft, a  receipt, or a random envelope. I have snippets lying all over the place,  in drawers, notepads, books, my car, my purse. I went through a very  cliched phrase, I suppose you could call it, writing about pain and  heartache and everything else that plagues teenagers, and really tried  to morph it into something a little more elevated, to make it a step  above what my peers were writing. Recently, I'm interested in things  that make people uncomfortable--because they're real.

What inspires you to write the most?
Life--the same thing that inspires everyone. Nearly all of my prose has  an element of my own experiences in them, with an event that happened to  me, a person I knew, or something I felt. My experiences trigger my  writing, whether it's the excitement of staying up all night with  someone you love, a bottle of bad Chianti or a worse sort of tragedy.  When you write what you know, it becomes a part of your soul, an  extension of your existence. That doesn't happen when you write about  something you've never experienced.

Of all the deviations in your gallery, which one means the most to you and why?
Nothing to See (Being Revised)I wouldn't have taken any notice if it hadn't been for the laughter.  It wasn't merry or even cruel.  It was the barbarous laughter of evil and vicious darkness and it chilled the marrow of my bones.  Turning my head to look down the dim alley, I saw them: a semi-circle of four men focusing on their entertainment for the evening—namely, a fifth fellow and what I assumed was merely a cheap piece, some drugged up doxy earning a wage for her next fix.
Oh God, how I wish she had been a whore.  Some pathetic moll who let herself be roughed up and down for a few bucks, but this was no whore.  I wasn't innocent; I'd seen plenty of cocottes  and the looks in their eyes that craved money or men or both and I'd witnessed the haunting desperation for something better, along with a resignation to what they had.  This woman—so very young—this wasn't a two-bit cyprian, down on her luck, trying to make a dollar and feed a habit.
Bruises marred her

They all mean so much to me, but if I had to pick one story, it would be  "Nothing to See." It's written from the perspective of a man who  stumbles upon a gang rape in an alley. He recognizes the evil taking  place and wants to put an end to it, to help the young woman, but his  cowardice holds him back and he shuffles on, knowing that he is  ultimately as wicked as the alley gang. Despite the acts of evil that we  witness every day, people often do nothing. They shut their eyes and  close their ears and keep moving, cocooning themselves in their own  lives, as if everything will go away if they ignore it, as if it can in  no way affect them. "Nothing to See" is an example of that global  abandonment and is also deeply personal.

Riencuran's Gallery Feature

Chianti and CigarettesI. We drank Chianti from porcelain mugs.  Mine bore an Irish blessing--yours was decorated with a Chinese proverb that warned of things to come.  We sat awkwardly by the window and I couldn't meet your eyes.
I never could bear the judgment within them.
You looked away from me then, perhaps realizing the futility in your attempts for normality, and I longed for a kind word, anything, but instead of begging, I watched the fire crackle in the hearth.
It was all too late.
II. The cigarette was burning down to the filter as I filled my lungs with the same blackness you roused in me.  Your eyes stared blankly at the wall--this was the only time I could look at you, when your eyes were dull like the butter knife on the kitchen counter.  I wanted to speak but what could I say when your presence made me overflow with too much guilt?
I took a drag and thought of days lost to the ashes, days made of discarded cigarettes and bottles of wine left to sit too l
An Elegy for LazarusThe earth fell away
as I waited for you to rise from the dead;
The moon was burnt orange
like a second skin.
We wept for you, Lazarus,
in the places we knew of old,
in empty rooms with silent pianos.
The Seine is lonely at 2 A.M.
and I long for your company.
I watched as the streetlights dimmed
one by one,
and another night passed without you.
The stars abandoned me
when you didn't show your face.
I prayed that you could escape death
and that you were immortal
but neither my words nor my incense
reached the thrones of the gods.
Come back, Lazarus, I wept
on the banks of the Seine,
yet my tears were lost in murky waters
that spoke of times and days long ago.
We need you among the living,
in the street corner cafes
and on the river bank.
Come back, Lazarus,
for without you I grow weary
of the shallow reflections in the looking glass.
I see shadows of who you once were
floating down the Seine,
one of the many dead
whose last  moments were in those deep waters.
I see your face silhouetted
Jack and Jilljackandjillwentupthehill

to fetch a pail of water
and Jill laughed from the top
of her self-proclaimed castle,
her grassy green hill,
with a crimson moat and a gate
made of  m a r r o w  and  b o n e.
Jackie-boy won’t go up the stairs,
muffling Jill’s sobs in the night.
Jackie-boy won’t break in,
stealing the only treasure Jill has left.
Jackie-boy won’t come near her again,
taking what was never his.

fall down fall down
break your crown, Jackie-boy.
the well is the only witness
and she keeps her  s e c r e t s  buried deep.
Mommy sees but doesn’t say a thing
because Poppa beat her for suggesting
that wickedness was in their home.
Jackie lied and Jill cried
when they had to work together,
her punishment for telling  t a l l  tales.
Mama Told MeMama, the way I'm dragging
This black death into my lungs –
I'm sure it's a pretty sight –
The taste of ash won't leave my lungs.
But the ache is so good and
Now we all be dragons,
Igniting flames and breathing smoke.
Mama, I should have listened
All those years ago and yesterday.
Mama, there's another stranger
Lying on the sheets you gave me
Three Christmases ago –
The scent of him won't leave my skin.
But the ache is so good and
Now I'm a dragon abed,
Cooling flames and breathing smoke.
Mama, I should have listened
All those years ago and yesterday.

hfeather53's Interview

Take a moment to introduce yourself.  Tell me a bit about your interests and your writing.
I'm Heather. I fidget a lot. Hoodies are security blankets for me. I  play the guitar (but not well), I sing (I'm ok with that), and I write a  lot (also ok with that). The white paint on my keyboard for the letters  "m" and "n" is completely gone.

What inspires you to write the most?
I use writing to get things out of my brain. Most of my work is  extremely personal and highly emotional. My life has unfortunately been  surrounded by tragedy... I write a lot about my past... I try and figure  things out. I end up getting stuck on the whys too often. When I was  younger someone used to say, "Build a bridge and get over it." I  sincerely wish it were that simple.

Of all the deviations in your gallery, which one means the most to you and why?

It's about my mother. She committed suicide when I was four. I spent  (spend) lots of time trying to figure it all out... It was nice to be  able to write about it... To be able to share bits about my memories of  her. I spent a lot of time being angry at her and hating myself for what  she did. I'm finally inching passed those feelings and I felt a release  like I've never before had in my life while I wrote.

hfeather53's Gallery Feature

and love becomes their songthe dark, seething, crimson rose
begged for your touch
upon her twisting, cutting,
luscious vine
"Bleed for me,"
she pleads,
"restore the color to my petals
winter's thieved."
she splays herself
before your palms
"Breathe of me,"
she requisitions,
"house me in your loving lungs
so I can be your song."
so you reach for thorny vine
and she wraps herself around you;
drinking of your vigor-
as you place renewed petals
before your face
and breathe her seed
into your waiting chest
"Water me,"
she sings,
"let me drink of you
in a new way."
and without waiting
for your bated
she tightens her spiny grip
around your flesh
and tears water the dirt
beneath, making their way
into her roots and traveling up
her slender stem
all at once
her grasp is released
as the green vine
turns to ash-
and sitting in your bloody hands
regret begins to drown her
you scream, quite angrily,
and in the sweetest song
she sings-
"Many have come
and heard my pleas,
and you are the first
to rescue me,
fire breather~oxygen and sin
igniting our worlds; as we,
now- collide and spark
sleepless scarswhy does it feel
like a piece of me dies
with every scar that heals
and disappears from my skin
dare I reclaim my
tarnished history
with crass glass
smokescreened beneath
and a mattress weighted
with all of my poverty
fly away angel
kiss some other
dead girl's lips
I will not bed you
What you became.I wish I could hold you close to my chest. You are so very precious. You are the only piece of precious I will ever own. Your sweet little face is so dark. I'm so sad that no one sees it. Not for me, but for you.
If I could just take all of that hurt you hold in your heart, I think the light would return to your face. Maybe then you would smile. At least once, possibly, for me.
I wish you knew words to express what was in your heart. Words have never been your strong point. You know loneliness, self sufficiency, and obedience. Not self expression. No one ever asked what was wrong.
You felt so special and prized just being held in a lap. I wish I could hold you in my own. I wish I could raise you as my own. You would flourish with the safety you deserve. Every child deserves to flourish.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. If I could step in and take your place I would. Now we're a big girl. We know words to say that make people stop. Words like: no, stop, don't touch me, don't lo

mistressofquills's Interview

Take a moment to introduce yourself.  Tell me a bit about your interests and your writing.
My deviantART name is MistressofQuills, which was actually a suggestion  from a dear friend of mine (EclecticQuill) I'm primarily a  literature artist, but I like to dabble in photography sometimes:D Right  now I'm a second-semester freshman in college, and I'm majoring in  English with a Creative Writing focus.

It is my goal to become a  published novelist sometime in the future, so I see my dA community as a  place to learn from other amazing writers and to try my best to improve  through critique and community. I think what I'm best at is prose  fantasy fiction, although that's not the only kind of writing I do.

What  I love most about writing is that I'm able to take a moment of  inspiration and turn it into something that is my  own, and yet be something that others can be touched by. I  love crafting characters and constructing scenes and imagining new  plotlines, and then weaving them all into a cohesive unit that can speak  with its own voice.

Poetry is my emotional outlet. I love getting  the kind of inspiration that just fills your heart up to overflowing  with some emotion until you simply must put it on  paper or else explode! It's fun to mix potent stuff like that with all  kinds of images that fit together like a puzzle.

What inspires you to write the most?
Well in case you hadn't already guessed, I think emotion is what  inspires me the most. It's not the only thing, but I think it's one of  the major ones. So many things can be born from an emotion - a poem, a  story, a scene of a larger story... It's how most of my work started  out, actually. When an idea comes to me, it's usually in a moment of  great emotion, and a scene starts to take shape in my mind, building off  that beginning emotion. My novel began that way, and so did most of my  poetry:)

Of all the deviations in your gallery, which one means the most to you and why?
Pain's Fangs - Part 1
The pain of flowing blood is nothing to the agony of cruel words.  Fangs of sound bite at the soul as daggers of the same pierce the heart.  My ears rang and my heart froze at the sound in the air.  Nothing is so cruel as the ringing of false words from the mouth of a dear one.  For me, the one who spoke was the dearest of them all…His words were the only thing that had the power to hurt me, and I had always feared that such a time as this would come to pass.  That it finally had, that my forbidding vision, my banished prediction had become a reality, summoned a hurt so deep it threatened to drown me in its dark depths.
And then, the impossible happened: the pain deepened, it seared hotter.  He smiled.  Words weren't enough.  He had to add a savage twist to the sword already buried in my chest, and it ached with an unbearable intensity.  Betrayal – to me, always a word associated with th

I consider myself a novelist first, so I feel the most attachment to my  longer works, especially my novels (I'm in the midst of writing three,  but only Pain's Fangs is uploaded to dA). Tori is a  character that I fell in love with from the first moment she began to  develop in my mind. I always strive for depth of character and  personality in my protagonists, and I think Tori is a pretty good  example of what I can do - though, I'm not done with the novel yet. I  think every person is complex in their own way, and so I think  believable characters should also be complex, with pasts that  continually influence them in their present. Tori, then, has a very  complicated past (which hasn't been fully revealed yet), and I can't  wait to do more with her and her story!

:devmistressofquills's Gallery Feature

Patient - Part 1The locker banged closed and she winced, taking a shallow breath.  Her head hurt worse today, a dull throbbing that reverberated in her skull like the ring of a pick striking stone in a vast cave.  The roar of conversation in the hall around her didn't help matters either.
She turned and made her way toward her next class as fast as she could to escape the deafening noise, holding her notebooks and textbooks clutched to her chest.  Breathing a sigh of relief once the door closed behind her, she chose a seat in the far back, where she could listen but not be distracted and – more importantly – not have to speak.
Not that speaking wasn't a good thing in terms of grades… it was just that speaking meant eyes on her – it meant more stress and more effort.  And she just didn't have the energy for it today.
She shook her head, trying to clear it of the uncharacteristic thoughts plaguing her mind, and realized she had made a mistake.  With a soft, involuntary moan, she
inexplicable things
that we sense
like wings fluttering
in the shadows
or chest rising with the effort
of feeling
crystal chandeliers
so fragile in the wind
shards of memory
piercing the stillness
and screams silenced
with agony
the lashes to our eyes
hurt and bleed
come again
and wound me
so close to breaking
I can see the cracks.
they widen
and begin to disintegrate
the holes patched
the pain "forgotten"
(as if things
like that can just go away)
I see light
cold and clear through dry eyelashes
whispers in the ink
and music that sings
inexplicable things
darling and sweet
…and there
I see the light in your eyes
I hear your warm heart
I know your thoughts
…I feel you here
there it is
on the raven's wings:
on the feathers of pain
I can see the black
far away
but always close
as a dream (nightmare)
I am not lost
I can see beauty
light is fun to watch…
dancing in the eddies
hands are warm
Feathered IceSnowflakes begin to fall as I walk, appearing out of the inky sky as if they were summoned for the night’s lack of silent light and feathery fantasy.  I look up to watch them float to earth, making myself dizzy trying to find the cloud that gave them life.  A smile turns up the corners of my mouth as I imagine their shimmering dances through the night’s breezy winds and frost-covered gusts.  I imagine that they are dancing around me, alighting upon me for just a moment before fading to dust as the wind eddies around me.  It pulls me into the dance with them, and tosses me from partner to partner as I laugh and revel in the beauty of the winter scene.
But the cold tonight is also biting.  The few fingers that still peak out the ends of my coat sleeves feel as if icicles with needled teeth are gnawing on them with a voracious hunger.  As I walk through the freezing night, I watch the steam rise and writhe from every exhalation, imagining t
MemoriesHe startled her as he came around the bend, emerging from the small copse of trees like a wraith emerging from a deep shadow.  She stopped walking and stared at him, her heartbeat quickening in fright.
But as he stepped into the light of the street lamp that stood only a few feet behind her, she realized his face was familiar.
"Hayden?" she asked hesitantly, the incredulity and utter shock at his being there evident in her voice.
"Hey, Kisa," he said, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  There was a familiar light in his brown eyes that warmed her heart in the remembering.  They had not been close friends; even so, seeing him filled her with a sense of relief.  Ever since leaving home, she had been lonely, having not previously known anyone here before she moved.  Her world had completely changed in the space of a few short weeks, and now she felt so alone.
In that moment, she realized she didn't care that he hadn't been a very close friend; she was just happy to see an

How Can You Help Undiscovered Weekly?

Simple,  if you know a deviant that has an awesome gallery but lacks the  exposure to become a big name on dA, send us a note with their name and  your favorite thumbcode from their gallery. Please do  not send a note to fella, but to the deviant responsible for the  medium you're suggesting.

rainylake - Photography  Astrikos - Traditional  inknalcohol - Literature  cinyu - Digital

Weekly #fella Feature spotlighting very deserving deviants!
Add a Comment:
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you Grim!:D And thank you to whomever suggested me to be one of the feature-ees:love:
inknalcohol Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013   Writer

You weren't suggested. I picked you. :la:

You deserved the feature!
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Student Writer
Oh I see!:wow: Well then a double thanks to you!!:iconiloveyouplz:
Hfeather53 Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
inknalcohol Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013   Writer
Riencuran Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Student General Artist
Thank you, Grim! :) I appreciate the feature and I'll be sure to keep an eye on this spotlight from now on!
inknalcohol Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013   Writer
You're very welcome. Be sure to send me a note with anyone you think might be deserving of the feature!
RiseandBe Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:heart: *Hfeather53! This is a lovely feature!
One thing, "hfeather5*3's interview". =D You put 52.
inknalcohol Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013   Writer
Thank you! :ashamed:

Fixed it.
RiseandBe Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No problem!
Add a Comment:

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