| You MUST be a member for submitting! Any work submitted by a NON-Member will be declined!|
Right now we are allowing 3 submissions per member a day. This may change later on as the group grows larger.
As the title expresses, we are a group that focuses on the subject of the Paranormal. So all and anything that falls under that theme may be submitted unless it includes any of the following below.
* NO violence towards animals will be accepted!
* NO racial Artwork!
* No art depicting children in offensive/denigrating situations!
* No religious offenses nor discrimination art subjects will be allowed!
* No IDs
* No Cartoon artwork styles such as manga, anime, hentai, etc.
* No Fanart unless it's really exceptional work.
Features: Only the staff can suggest features, all submissions to feature made by members will be declined, unless it is decided from the staff accepting it for its good quality and/or for depicting something powerful.
|More Journal Entries|
MagicA wrought iron balcony,Magic by Scarlettletters
overgrown with jasmine
frames the summer evening,
pulls magic from doorways
and sends it spinning into the wanton dark
with a clatter of glass beads
and raw red saxophone.
Voodoo heat bleeds out low and blue,
bubbles under door sills
and over window ledges
to set the city humming.
The jazz blast of feet on cobblestones -
a parade of tourists,
washed in summer and silk
shake graveyard dust from their shoes
and disappear into the long, languid dark
among the palm readers and card tricksters
crouched in the curl of a summer dream.
The warm slit of night beckons me,
welcomes me with open arms
and leads me to where you ponder enchantment -
your moon slashed eyes half closed on the world,
taking in its secrets between sips
of rum laced coffee and heavy cream.
Your cheeks spangled like carnival glass
in every hue of my desire,
sweat beaded up like tiny pearls on toffee skin.
Leaning in, I taste taboos from your tongue
that sear my mouth with the
Bound By WarBound By WarBound By War by suyuku-san
We are bound by war.
Every single one of us, no matter how much you deny or disbelieve, it is the truth.
Throughout history we as humans have strived to push on and live, even if it means to end that of another life, whether it be by choice or not.
There will always be that, to live on others will be lost by our hands or by another. Within war it is something of equal truth.
Senseless violence, senseless death, bloodshed and insanity.
Though many of us in our generation have not felt the true effects of war, our blood has, our ancestors who fought with bravery and honor. Who fought to preserve what familiarity of life they had, whether it be for others or for themselves, they fought.
Many had lost their lives, lost their way in the horrible madness that is what we call war.
Liberation, freedom, crusades, justice, beliefs.
Unneeded, horrible, evil, atrocious, never ending.
These are a few of the words that many a man, woman or child has uttered when speaking of war no
The Transmundane AnomalyThe trio – an archer and two swordsmen – stagger through the door, panting and wheezing. They made it. Goodness. They made it.The Transmundane Anomaly by Mattchewbackaar
“Close that door, Soren,” orders the leader, his voice shaky.
They can hear ghostly shrieks from beyond the door. They get closer. Somehow the trio outran them. They don’t question their feat, just accept. Soren musters whatever strength he can from his oxygen-deprived muscles and closes the colossal door. Thud – echo-echo-echo.
Soren keeps his back to the door, gasping. He looks at Ander, a beefy guy clad in steel and a mammoth of a blade in his shuddering hand, and nods his head at a stack of thick boxes. There’re no words. Ander shuffles, leans his blade against the wall and drives the stack toward the door. As Ander positions them in front, he backs off and breathes in deeply through his nose.
His nose picks up a smell. Not his sweat, though there is that, but something else. Iron. It’s profound, nose-curling,