Claymason

The things we make, make us.

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Oleander? by Claymason, literature

Literature

Oleander?

She'd been on that couch so long she was worried she had fused to it. It was an unfounded worry since she had used the bathroom not even 20 minutes ago, but she had certainly spent the better part of 3 months chilling on the thing as her wonderful husband waited on her hand and foot. She almost felt sorry for him having to deal with her moods and picky eating habits. She wished she could just shit out the kid and be done with it. She was tired of having to be on top during sex and being out of breath just from going up the stairs, she regretted her choice of the 5th floor with no elevator, and having pains she wouldn't wish on anyone.She was

Patheticly Yours. by Claymason, literature

Ouch. by Claymason, literature

Literature

Ouch.

My head hurts more than my heart does lately. It hurts and hurts. I don't understand. I don't understand but I think about it all the time, looking for that clue. The clue to understanding what we are or what this is. I guess you fake too well. Or maybe I'm too insecure. Too used to being the over-looked one, the ugly one. The one passed over in favour of everyone else. I guess I'm too new to this, or maybe I fell too fast and too hard. I shouldn't think so much. My heart hurts because I love you (just so you know).

Would you be my sky? by Claymason, literature

Rocks Don't Cry by Claymason, literature

Literature

Rocks Don't Cry

I miss her too. Not as much as he does, but who could? I didn't know her as well as he did, I don't think I ever could have, but that's irrelevant. I loved her, I love my memories of her: My first good Christmas was with her, my first girly moment was with her – sitting on her bed braiding her hair as she heckled whatever was on the TV. She had her problems, I wasn't privy to most of them, but they all served to make her the person I adored. When she died, though, I couldn't grieve. I wasn't allowed to. I had to support him, he was drowning in both tears and sorrow so I was his rock. So while he clung to me at night and cried, I didn'

In The Clearing Chapter 2 by Claymason, literature

Literature

In The Clearing Chapter 2

Strange things are happening today. I fade in and out – more so than usual. I can feel myself disappearing permanently, I don't know how I know and I'm desperately afraid, but I know it has something to do with that place. It's almost like it's calling me – warning me of the consequences of not heeding it's call. I've decided to leave immediately, I don't want to wait and see what happens, time might be running out. I'm a little worried about what might happen if I leave the house (I haven't tried to since I died and popped back up here), I might explode next. It's feels like a test. Waking up at the house seemed odd enough, know

An Umbrella For More Than Rain by Claymason, literature

Literature

An Umbrella For More Than Rain

It rained again today, just like after you left; after you said goodbye. It was a fat rain. One that soaked my too thin white t-shirt quickly. I didn't care. The rain trickling down my face: a poor substitute for all the kisses we never shared, and the harsh wind, so cold I could swear my bones had turned to ice, the closest I had to the hugs that we never had -filled with adrenaline and lust and something else you can't quite place but label happiness anyway. I still drive by your apartment -our haven, filled with laughter and fun and angry pouts over the game one of us has just lost- on the way to work. I'm tempted to slow down, to get out

In The Clearing by Claymason, literature

Literature

In The Clearing

In the forest behind my house there's a large clearing. You can see it from my bedroom window. During the day it's dark but if you look hard through the window, you can see nothing but leaves covering the ground in the midst of a ring of large, ancient oak trees. At night it's even darker – pitch black. Even though the forest is dark, the clearing is always darker. Not visibly, there's no discernible difference to the unthinking eye merely glancing out of the window, but if you look the darkness of the clearing, it surpasses the darkness of the rest of the forest. If you look even harder in the clearing, you'll find that there's somet

The Sound of Silence by Claymason, literature

Literature

The Sound of Silence

Silence. I wish I could fucking get some. If it's not the kids during the day, it's the husband at night. Every time I try to slink away for some peace and quiet their radars go off. Heaven forbid 'Mama' get some alone time. They come running -hunting me down; with their stupid problems and questions. " Where are my socks!?" "Can I watch Cartoons?" "Sarah hit me!" complete wit

The Perfect Corpse by Claymason, literature

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Oleander? by Claymason, literature

Literature

Oleander?

Patheticly Yours. by Claymason, literature

Ouch. by Claymason, literature

Literature

Ouch.

Would you be my sky? by Claymason, literature

Rocks Don't Cry by Claymason, literature

Literature

Rocks Don't Cry

In The Clearing Chapter 2 by Claymason, literature

Literature

In The Clearing Chapter 2

In The Clearing by Claymason, literature

Literature

In The Clearing

The Perfect Corpse by Claymason, literature

The Lion Chapter 1 by Claymason, literature

Literature

The Lion Chapter 1

Full Title: The Labors of Naruto: The Lion Chapter 1 You would think he’d have learned his lesson. You would think his trip to the hospital, grasping onto the thread of life, oh-so desperately; would have taught him a thing or three. And yet there he was ‘researching’ as he put it. Unfortunately for him he had been spotted, by her, and she was going to knock his block off. As his perverted chuckling permeated the air, she slowly walked up behind him and holding back, only slightly, she punched him in the back of the head. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly opened her eyes so she could properly lecture Jiraiya as

Marinade by Claymason, literature

Literature

Marinade

He would do it. He would dispel the fears the students had about making the right marinade for the particular fish he had chosen. The slight staccato in his voice revered by the older students, and sublime to those new students who listened to the words; as he carefully explained that there was no need to worry. He knew just how to calm the newer students, knew how to key in on that thing that would help them learn, he knew you weren't there to fit the course. For a true education, the course had to fit you. He was their teacher.

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Diary of A Wedgied Milf Chapter 2 by Jackie232, literature

Thirteen Writing Prompts by dyingsoul2008, journal

Thirteen Writing Prompts

Jan 9, 2010

Hello dearest fellow deviants. The following is a list of thirteen prompts, some of which are based on secrets, confessions, obsessions, and such - hopefully it will inspire you or get you out of a writer’s block funk. 1. I’m (finally) over you. 2. My hero was murdered; he did NOT commit suicide. 3. We could be soul mates. 4. Seven. The number of men I’ve kissed who I don’t know. 5. It’s not as hard as you think to say Au Revoir. 6. Last night I had to bury your bones in the field that you loved. 7. You’re supposed to be dead! 8. The house down the street. 9. I thought you smelled like heroin. 10. Lucky

The Future of Storytelling Has Arrived by techgnotic, journal

The Future of Storytelling Has Arrived

Apr 3, 2012

Watch depthRADIUS Share |About|Previous Journal The Future ofStorytellingHas Arrived Ninja Turtles by lukekeith (https://www.deviantart.com/lukekeith) .techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic)by techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic) The recently announced changes to the core mythos of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the backlash from fans over the ending to Mass Effect 3 have ignited an incredible discussion about the rapidly evolving “collaborative” relationship between producers and consumers of videogames, movies, and similar “products.” Now it’s exploded beyond the secure borders of top news publications, gaming and entertainment websites. Looks like this long-bubbling

About Claymason

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Dec 21
United States
Deviant for 16 years
www.fanfiction.net/u/1369827/
She / Her

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My Bio

Hi there!

Since you stumbled upon my page I'll oblige with a little introduction.

I wake up the same time everyday...

... and that's how I discovered the Holy Grail.

Good enough? Good, now GTFO!