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Literature
Taking a Death Day
Policy states: Any and all employees – including managers, assistant managers, and key-holding employees – must notify to three fellow employees of higher rank (equal and/or higher for asst. managers and managers) at least a week ahead of time if they are to take any days off (at most, due to work requirement for each week, only two [2] days in a row, can be taken, no more than twenty [20] days in a year, six [6] days in a month). Days taken off must have reputable reasoning and approval from higher ranked employees (and/or equal rank for asst. managers and managers), and must have such approvals in writing and notarized. Each one of my employees understood this policy, giving sound reason as to days taken, and barring the one occasion Judith Henderson had swine flu and was out for a week, no one has needed more than a couple of days for personal reasons. So when Danielle Gray called me up saying she wanted a certain day off far into the future because she was going to
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Literature
10 Stories in 100 Words - One
1.
He doesn't remember how it happened, nor exactly when, but what Jacob Walters could recall was saying, “I could die happy now,” and with that, he did. Now he plays piano in my bar. A little-less zombie and not-really spirit, banging on ivory with a cigarette in his mouth. Ash collects on the white keys and gets pushed into the minute ridges of his fingers, no longer marks to his identity but just trenches of smoldered music. He plays the same terribly bland, depressing thing over and over again, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
2.
He always found it unusual, but Dudley Kern figured it was math that was saving his life. He saw it in the movies all the time, now it was him who had his weight (all 196 pounds) pressed staggered against a door (no thicker than an inch and a half), reinforced by brass fixtures (three hinges with six eighth-inch screws each and a deadbolt lock), keeping out something terrible that was beating away at the other side with all its
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Literature
The Valley of the Woken
          The Valley of the Woken
     Our Conscious Minds are a Valley where ideas run like children through the high grass playing games with sticks and rocks; our past and the pasts of others have dinners of roasts and legumes with warm honey mead and tart for dessert, spending time after meal with pipes and conversation in plazas of magnolia and stone. Gathered firewood burns through an endless day, the Sun of the Mind revolving in a tender circle above the heads of the dear Pontifications that sweat no stress or burden, nor chill to ignorance or neglect. In the bright light of twilight to dawn, two pairs of bare feet stride as Saints that bless the denizens of the Valley with life and vigor. One pieces ideas and beliefs from mud and ash, the other urges remembrance and respect in the talks of others. They are the Mistress Thought and Master Memory, patrons to the Valley of the Woken.
   
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elysian fields :iconfeldon:feldon 1 1 honey bee :iconfeldon:feldon 13 7 book of Love :iconfeldon:feldon 0 2 coming down :iconfeldon:feldon 1 2 vergona :iconfeldon:feldon 2 2
Literature
3AM Epiphany - 001
Gossamer
I noticed her first as you would with any other pleasant shape: far in the distance as a slowly growing work of art. The artists are Depth and Detail, and their lines grow ever more elegant with each step she takes. The curves amounted to interest, but as specifics became apparent, Intrigue and Infatuation place footing and flag on the soil of a New World. I sat idled in a chair, forgetful of where that chair was, as it might as well been upon a reeking ship at sea from Europe, dancing back and forth with the crashing of the waves towards fresh beginnings and fortunate conquest, as was the feeling as she casually approached. Her hair became less interpretation and took shape as trusses of auburn curls, imbued by the sun with self-conscious allure, still belying a demeanor of innocence to its intentions in a halo of Autumn's blessing. Her eyes were tampered by breadth of mile, though still glistening as two dark stars, only to burn hazel as leaves on fire as yards became
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Literature
A Study of a Villain
     "Oi, Odie. How was your weekend—Odie, how you doing that?"
     Odie's friend, Penny, was most likely referring to Odie's nonchalant ability to be waiting at the bus stop, though not in a way one would generally expect. He was sitting back in a reclined position hovering about a foot and a half off the ground while attempting to solve a Rubix Cube at a quick pace.
     "This you mean? It's quite easy, actually. Saw it in my desk and thought I'd give it a go, seems there's a specific pattern," he replied while holding up the box with one hand, still solving it with quick turns of his fingers, a matter-of-fact look on his face.
     "No, well, yeah, that too, but Odie, you're floating! Or you're sitting on a exceptionally clear chair." Penny leaned down to him and felt under where a chair should be, but no chair. "Yeah, see that? It's not one of them Scandinavian deals, you really are
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Literature
Just Like the Movies: Part 2
"My mum always said, 'If you think or you know that you're gonna have a bad day, best to dress up for it, 'cause when the time comes to pay the Devil his due, at least he can't say you look like complete shite.'" Kent was straightening his tie and shirt. The credit cards Mr. Oberst in Café Neto had left in plain sight proved to be useful at a men's tall and formal store. Kent was just joining Nattie from the restroom at a table in the Earl's Court Tube Station's Food Plaza. She was busy typing away at the laptop they had purloined from the smart-looking woman in pinstripes and lapels, also at Café Neto. The USB flash drive from the War and Peace tool box jutted from the laptop's side, no doubt doing its malicious little business, and the War and Peace tool box was sitting on the table next to the laptop.
"Your mum really say that, Archer?" asked Nattie without lifting her eyes from the screen. Kent put on the jacket that went with the whole ensemble. Black suit, white shirt, blue tie.
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Literature
Just Like the Movies: Part 1
"What's wrong, Archer? I hit you too hard? Where's that class-act wit? That trademark smile? You're not so Bond now, are you, you big poof."
Kent had no idea what Badger was talking about. He was fairly certain that he was the furthest thing from James Bond, though to be modest to a point, he did see himself as a bit witty from time to time. Badger hit him again. By now, Kent started getting used
to that iron taste in his mouth. His jaw throbbed and he spat mean-looking slugs of maraschino mess on the concrete warehouse floor. He thought to himself how
warehouses were always where these types of things go down, and how there must be a thousand buildings by waterfronts filled with faceless, brown packages and blood-stained floors. He then began to wonder where the warehouse workers were, an innocent belief that someone may happen upon a tragic beatdown like this one and go off to report it; he'd rather not take the demonized truth that they've been all paid off or they just didn't exist
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I'm so happy that you're all up to something. Good for all of you.

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feldon
Ian
Artist | Professional | Literature
Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire.
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:iconclalepa:
clalepa Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2012  Professional Photographer
Thanks for fav :)

I have created a new facebook account and I would be glad if you visit me. Here you have:

[link]

Thanks and regards from Spain,

Clara
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:iconravenfire-wiccan:
RavenFire-wiccan Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
I am def watching you. Oh and Happy New Year as well. If you would like come on over and have a read of some of my short horror/fic stories. :)
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:iconpatrickfinch:
PatrickFinch Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
Ian!!!

Thanks so much for the :+fav:! =D
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:iconfeldon:
feldon Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2009  Professional Writer
No problem Mr. Patrick! I dig your art! :)
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:iconpatrickfinch:
PatrickFinch Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
:bow:
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