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Steph Ruff
Bio
Achievements (1)
Stories (41/0)
Flashback
The slam of the dagger silenced Cynical. Love was talking, Cynical could see his mouth moving but the words were muffled; absorbed by the onslaught of memories Cynical found himself drowning in. That dagger, his third favorite dagger, had made that exact same sound when Greed had found him.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Fiction
The Beast
There is something hollow inside me. A space surrounded by jagged teeth. My eyes are black holes, unseeing and cavernous, revealing nothing but bone. My face, although two-dimensional, has all but shriveled; I have no nose, no lips, and strips upon strips of rotting skin. Each horrible thing I do, to keep myself glowing, alive, flaming bright, adds to the decay, forcing me to hide. My antlers stretch out of my head, one extending out from either side, twisting and growing and wrapping themselves around anything alive. Each antler gains new heights as I scheme and deceive and lie. I am trying to help you. Don’t worry, everything is fine. It has been so long I cannot bear to see the light. To see every mistake and pale face, of all the people who I have led to die. This small face below my chin came from a very young boy. So full of joy and hope, he was the first to go. This other one right next to it came from an aunt, or was it an uncle? A cousin, a grandfather, a grandmother, a dear family friend. All their faces stare back at me, their souls reflected in the parts not yet decayed into bone.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Fiction
Why I'm not so Special
I am nothing special, maybe a little strange and demented, but I am human, meaning you and me and the billions of people on this planet all have a million things in common. We breathe air, are covered in a layer of hair, have nails and a conscious, friends, enemies, parents. We eat and drink, play and die, scream all our hurts into the void. But all of these things that we have in common are infinitesimal to all the differences that makes each and every one of us oh so special.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Confessions
Hattersbee Lake
There was something about Hattersbee Lake, how you couldn't see the other side, and they say at least fifteen bodies had been lost in its depths. But I thought Hattersbee Lake was beautiful and serene. The water was gray and murky, the Lilli pads decorating the surface like freckles. The ripples from jumping fish and ducks swimming. The light of the fall sun, dark orange, red and pink, was perfectly reflected in the lake's smooth sheen. At night the lake began to speak, with buzzing mosquitoes and bull frogs, their voices carried through the night. Hattersbee Lake is my home, and anyone who says different can just go ahead and die.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Fiction
My Favorite Color Is...
“My favorite color is red. There is nothing else to it. There is just something about it that just makes me so excited. Blue may be “normal,” the typical favorite for a boy like myself, and then there are the unconventional ones like purple or green. I’m not saying they aren’t pretty, not valid, not a better choice than pink, but red is my favorite color and that’s all there is to it.
By Steph Ruff3 years ago in Psyche
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