Ridderkvinden

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Literature

The Oracle Child Chapter 6

The darkness between the stars bled colours as the obsidian ships tore through the loop, like daggers through a silken veil. Ten, fifteen, fifty....they kept pouring through until about three hundred sleek, and deadly battlecruisers had made their way into real space. One giant of a ship hovered amongst them like a whale in a school of fish, its bulk marked by battle, and marred by weapon turrets. “Blood of Darkness” was a War Behemoth, a ship intended for one purpose only. To annihilate anything in its path, standing between it and it's target. The battlecruisers slipped into formation around the Behemoth with practised ease, and

The Oracle Child

7 deviations

Literature

Cassie part 1: Leaving Darkshire

For the third time in her life, Cassie looked back at what had been her home for years. Knowing she had to leave it behind she felt her heart sink in her chest as she fought back the tears, taking a deep breath. It was for the best, right? The only way she could ever keep him was to let him go. The toddler in her arms huddled in his blanket and held on tight as the gryphon took off, soon leaving Darkshire behind in the gloom of the surrounding forest. Her home. Her family. Now Castian was her family, along with Kenai, the direwolf Chuck had insisted she took with her for protection. She could not look back for long, the goodbyes still chokin

Random shortstories

10 deviations

Literature

Behind closed curtains

The sky turns to grey as the sun goes down, wrapping a blanket around our sleepy town. I stuff my hands in my pockets and as I go for a walk, I wonder what the walls would say if they could only talk. Behind closed curtains is a world that we don't get to see. A world of quiet crying and hidden poverty. Violence, despair and empty bottles on the floor, there's no room for dreaming anymore. I close my eyes as I walk in the rain, hide myself from reflections that will mirror my pain. Just a shadow of society hiding away, hoping to catch the sun one day. Behind closed curtains it is always easy to pretend, that troubles don't exist and that y

Random poetry

83 deviations

Literature

The legend of the Silvertear lake

Once upon a time, in years beyond our own, a dragon of the Timekeepers flight fell in love with a mortal woman. Her hair was the colour of sunlight, her lips like a rose in bloom, and her eyes rivalled the midnight sky. But their love could not be, for no dragon may love a mortal, and no mortal will ever live long enough to share a dragons life. Yet, they met in secret under the weeping willows, pledging their undying love under the moon, and for just a few hours, he made time stand still. As years passed by and mortality withered her beauty like the leaves of autumn, the dragon decided to stop time eternally so his love would never die. H

Fantasy stories

14 deviations

New drawings

29 deviations

Old drawings

17 deviations

Crime Noir drawings

5 deviations

My random photos

73 deviations

Seth and Thomas Mass Effect stories

20 deviations

Literature

Greetings! Introduction to LiteraryPublications

Greetings fellow writers, and welcome to the show! I fear in this performance, there will only be...well...me....in the spotlight. * Clears throat * First, introductions are in order. Most call me Riddles, or DD. You can use both, or one, or something else entirely as long as it fits. I have been known to be called Weird as well, and most often take it as a compliment. I am 32 years old, headed towards 33 in a break-neck speed. That, however, does not prevent me from being a child at heart, and of mind. I -love- to play, which shows in my hobby which is Role playing in all its forms and shades. I do LARP (Live Action Role Play) which take

My randomness bucket

17 deviations

Cassie part 1: Leaving Darkshire by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Cassie part 1: Leaving Darkshire

Countdown of the odd mind by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Countdown of the odd mind

10 Ten minutes was all it took for my face to be everywhere you look. Brown eyes and a sad little smile looking at you from the back of your milk carton, or staring at you from wind and weather torn posters. Flyers rustle around with the leaves in the gutter, and you may step on my face on your way to work. Just ten minutes of not paying attention made me famous. My freckled cheeks, a mother's desperate plea and a father's stoic silence. Hopes and dreams trapped in dead eyes looking at you from a picture. Where am I? Who took me? The clock has stopped ticking in my room, frozen at ten minutes to eight. Late. Everything had to happen so fa

Never stop running by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Never stop running

His lungs were burning, his breath heaved and strained, and his sides felt like they were splitting. His left foot was dragging a bit, and pain from his sprained ankle flared up through his leg with every move. But he kept running. He had no choice! The hunters were right at his heels, and he could hear the hounds barking. His eyes darted around in search of safety. A place where he could hide and avoid the hounds. But the narrow streets and burned out buildings offered no sanctuary. He whimpered, his heart pounding in his chest. "No no no, God help me!" He whispered, breath wheezing. He screamed as he felt teeth snapping at his heels, falli

The Koi Pond by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

The Koi Pond

Her father had had koi fish for as long as she could remember. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been hunched by the small pond in the garden with her father, looking at the beautiful fish and feeding them with bits of fish food. He used to tell her that the koi fish could grant wishes if you wished hard enough. She was a grown woman now, staring at the small pond with memories flashing before her eyes. She remembered how her father had been sitting on his knees, carefully picking fallen leaves from the water so they wouldn't clutter the small pond. The loving care he had put into arranging the white chalked stones around it and plan

The day tomorrow died. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

The day tomorrow died.

That fateful day in June did not seem out of the ordinary at all. I woke up to the smell of freshly made coffee, and tip-toed downstairs to surprise my wife in the kitchen, making breakfast. I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her still damp hair, breathing in her fragrance mixing with that of the coffee. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Your breakfast is almost ready!” She smiled at me and turned her head to kiss me before ushering me to the kitchen table. I gratefully grabbed the mug she gave me, and greedily inhaled the smell wafting from it. Nothing beats the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning! A

Knight of the Petunias. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Knight of the Petunias.

I saw a Knight in my garden today. He was kneeling in front of my Petunias as if in prayer, his head all bowed and his hands folded. He had golden, curly hair falling down to his shoulders, and his features were very serene. Almost as if someone had painted them on like that. You can imagine my surprise. It is not every day one gets to see a Knight, let alone in your garden on a sunny, Sunday morning in a sleepy suburb of London. But there he was, contemplating my Petunias. At first I considered calling the police, but the young man was looking so peaceful as he sat there, so, in the end I decided to ask him if he would like a cup of tea inst

Castle of air. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Castle of air.

It broke. My fragile mind shattered like a glass mosaic. All the tiny shards fell out of my ears, nose, mouth and eyes until there was nothing left. That's when the men in white came to take me with them. They told me they would take me to a castle where I would be treated like royalty, and where servants would be looking for the pieces of my mind puzzle that I had lost. They dressed me in a beautiful white gown and brought me to my chambers so I could rest after my long journey. The walls and floor were soft to touch, and as I stretched on my toes and reached up my hand, my fingertips brushed against the soft ceiling. There was no need for

Love and a Latte. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Love and a Latte.

When you work at a café, you meet a lot of people every day. Those who are busy, those who take it slow, those who just come for lunch, and those who takes everything to go. You learn to recognize them, and put faces, and sometimes names, with the orders. A black coffee for the man with the blue tie, a tea with four sugars for the tired mother with her two kids hanging on her coat, A tuna sandwich and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for the student who's always reading, and cappuccino for the men in suits with their leather briefcases and fancy Italian shoes. Maria from the corner store always orders a pastrami sandwich for lunch, a

Crossing the border. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Crossing the border.

Ever been shot? It's messy as fuck, hurts like hell, and gives you a couple of excruciatingly long seconds to consider your mortality! But I am getting ahead of myself here... It all started at a motel room. Well, the story goes back a lot longer then that, but let's not get caught up in that. Long story... This little episode started at a typical, sleazy motel room somewhere along a random road. The air was stifling and dusty, smelling like something had crawled into the ventilation system and died. The air-conditioning coughed and wheezed like an asthmatic old man, and I was woken up by a noise that wasn't supposed to be there. During t

A world below by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

A world below

At first sight, you might wonder how anyone can live here. And at first sight, you might think of it as some abandoned construction site, left to rust and decay, only to be buried beneath concrete and earth forming a vast cave. But. For all intends and purposes, this is home. Our home below. The surface has been off limits for as long as I can remember. We are not allowed to go up there, nor does anyone feel inclined to do so. We live in what was once a subway station, the basement of a building, abandoned cars and trains left behind. Anywhere not above. We huddle up, scurry around, and try to survive. Pale faces, big eyes adjusted to the g