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About Varied / Hobbyist Premium Member Kelsey Williams20/Female/United States Groups :iconthezombiecollective: TheZombieCollective
We want to eat you.
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Deviant for 5 Years
3 Month Premium Membership:
Given by toxic--sunrise
Statistics 751 Deviations 16,616 Comments 47,474 Pageviews


HAI THAR :la: :love:
Thu Mar 31, 2011, 10:36 AM
Tue Mar 29, 2011, 10:40 PM
Mon Dec 6, 2010, 1:42 PM
Sun Dec 5, 2010, 11:36 AM
Wed Nov 3, 2010, 11:37 AM




:icongirlsonly: :iconchildabuseawareness: :iconthezombiecollective:


Rip out my insides
knit yourself a sweater, love
from my intestines
1- RenFest 11-22-14 by IntelligentZombie
1- RenFest 11-22-14
Fresh cut flowers at the North Carolina Renaissance Festival!

pullmonaria Buy a print, and keep these flowers on your wall! :heart: Also available as gift cards, mouse pads, and much more!moonflower 

I officially forgot what day it is 

7 deviants said I did too! :cries:
4 deviants said You can look that up, you know. (NO.)
4 deviants said *Evill Jabba laugh*
2 deviants said Isn't that pretty common for zombies? (SHUDDUP)
2 deviants said It's day 23432324232 and 1/4
No deviants said Haha I laugh at your pain

FFM Feature

Journal Entry: Wed Jul 9, 2014, 6:26 PM
ClingyThere I was, minding my own business, just lookin' out the window and watching the world go past. It was comforting and I was at peace, but it didn't last. Something must've happened because you were as clingy as a white dog's fur on a black suit. You smooched up to me, pulling me into your arms and nuzzling deep into my skin. I tried to move away, but like always, you followed. Your hands batted at me gently, trying to manipulate me back into position. All I wanted was to watch the world outside, but your neediness foiled me again.
I wanted to tell you to get lost, but you don't speak lizard and I don't speak cat. God, I hate your coping mechanisms.

random title three hundred and forty twoBackwards-clouds wrinkle over the highway.  She watches chunks of road disappear beneath nervous unlightning, picks at minute-fleas on Reece's ankles.  Misses one, feels the sticky soda fizz of seconds dissolving, tries to grab it before it hops a decade.  Between her fingers it struggles to get free, tiny legs flapping.  Little anomaly, scrambling to get back to where it began, stealing bits of life whenever it lands.  It reminds her of him.  
She pops it.  Half-digested time-juice dribbles over her thumb.    
His nails are receding.  She's trying to remember the sharp pressure of them digging into her hand -necks twisted, blistered eyes staring at missiles suspended motionless mid air- but the memory is gone and she can't think around clammy fingerpads gumming at her arm.  
Reece asks if she's worried.  --Not as much now, she says, rubbing away a week.  He scratches off a scar on his chin.  She can smell the direct
FFM 2014: Consequences“Without me, you are accidental.” He said, imperious still, even in the midst of his defeat. “Without me, you are nothing.”
Nathaniel looked up into the face of God and smiled, though his hands were shaking.
“No, you are wrong.” He said, and plunged his sword into God’s burning heart.
“Without you, we are free.”
Stitching the World Together    A tear was forming in the fabric. A man and his wife were drifting apart. Quickly she rifled through her bin, selected the red thread of love, passed it through her needle, and stitched the tear closed again.
    But even before she finished that repair, an earthquake had destroyed thousands of homes along the coast. She pulled out a purple thread for compassion and pulled the rift together. On the radio, the DJ announced that countries from all over the world were coming together to provide aid to the stricken country.
    At the edge, a bit was fraying. Someone was alone and hurting. For this she chose the blue thread of peace and hoped it held. More often than not, it didn’t.
    Over on the other side, a patch had come loose. Drought had stricken an area, putting them at risk of starvation. From her scraps she pulled a green patch for life and sewed it into the fabric. Weather reporters forecast rain that night for the first time in

Stories born of TwilightPoetess
' prompt, '
The OTHER Horsemen of the Apocalypse.'
The Fifth Horseman“I'm not saying they're not killing each other,” I explain. “I can see from the figures in front of me that they're killing each other. What I'm saying is that unless you can broaden your demographic, we're never going to meet our targets for this quarter. This is supposed to be a world war, Belgium and the Netherlands isn't going to cut it.”
War squawks at me down the phone. It's hard to hear him over all the screaming in the background, but frankly I'm not interested in his excuses, I need to see results.
“What do I expect you to do? Do your job! Think outside the box! Look, Famine is in Europe right now, why don't you ask him for some help? I see the potential for synergy there. No, I'm aware you don't do 'asking for help'. I'm also aware of your performance over the past century, and I'm noticing some startling correlation between- hello? Hello?”
I slam the handset back into its cradle, which is a lot harder than it sounds when done from the back

FFM Day 3 challenge, unreliable narrator:
TruthThere was blood down her shirt. There was blood down mine. I was alive. She was not. Why was I still alive? I loved her. They should have taken me instead of her. She should have been able to see more of the world not me. She shouldn't have been killed. 
I'm in jail. I've said I didn't kill her. I love her. Why would I kill her? I struggled as they held me to the ground; I wanted to leave to see her. They questioned me. I didn't do anything! We were attacked! I broke down crying as the police continued to question me. 
"So, you admit what you did was wrong?" 
I hadn't meant to kill her. 
FFM 3: Rocco“So you admit what you did was wrong?”  Satan has that scowl that he only gets when he’s being extra funny.  He plays tough, but it's only because he cares so much.
Non.  I admit zat ze whole thing, it is wrong.  And zose kids, zey should be pun-eeshed.
“Oh, and now you’re French.  Great.  Look, this shit isn’t funny anymore, Rocco.  I know it was you.  And that’s not even a good French.”  I don’t know why he calls me by my last name, but I can only assume it’s because it sounds tougher than Moe.  My boss is always looking out for me.
“Sill voose plate, Satan--"
Stan.  Look, this is the third time this week.  You see the sign up there?”  He points over the hood of our epic luxury chariot at the sign on the side of the building.  “What does that sign say, Rocco?”
“Satan MacMurphy, Private

Day 5 challenge, historical fiction featuring the Fifth of July:
A Bold Stratagem    July 5th, 1944:
    They will give me the Dickin Medal for this.
    I have intercepted a report indicating that reinforcements are to be sent to the 4th Army, east of Mogilev. I cannot allow that to happen. Though my actions in Berlin have drawn a significant amount of attention already, I am determined to hold my position. The ground I have chosen to make my stand is exposed. Every day, things get a little more uncomfortable. The enemy is just feet away. But I will persevere.
    I will prevail.
    “Mein Fuhrer?”
    “I was going to write important Nazi stuff, but there’s a cat sitting on my typewriter.”
    “Can’t you just shove it off?”
Condiments are *always* useful.She gently brushed the dying spiders off of her jacket, then set the body on fire.
"And that's 11." Agent L straightened up and took yet another look around the train car, exasperation with the situation showing in the extreme volume of her sigh.
"Arnichidaeans. What piece of shit is stupid enough to try and illegally import Arnichidaeans..?"
They were an alien race, possibly sapient but nobody cared to have them around and alive long enough to find out for sure, for they had numerous issues:
Superacidic spit.
Armored pseudocrystalline hide.
Bad tempers.
Ability to eat almost anything.
High reproductive rates.
Bad. Tempers.
And so per the Tycho Treaty they were banned from Earth. Hell, they were banned from the entire galaxy. But their hides were worth a pretty penny for everything from alien art to effective body armor, so idiots would keep trying to ship them in to raise as incredibly irascible cattle.
Fortunately they had a..severe allergic reaction to powdered mustard seed,

Based off this prompt: She gently brushed the dying spiders off of her jacket, then set the body on fire. IntelligentZombie (me!)
Coming of AgeJulia scratched at her dry scalp as she rocked back and forth anxiously. The forest floor was riddled with an autumn treasure trove of gold, amber, and bronze foliage. She sighed leaning her head back on the crinkled bark of a muscle wood tree all the while her fingers dug into the earth. It was still unnerving to sit here like this; her clothes neatly folded only a stone’s throw away. Suddenly, miniscule legs brushed her knuckles and all at once hundreds of tiny arachnids slowly emerged from the undergrowth. They made their way up her arms, nested in her hair, and hugged her calm pale blue eyes. She let out a contented sigh. Her temples itched as the chill set in for the evening.
One spider was much larger than the others, a brown recluse, moved slowly across her brow and crossed over onto the young woman’s hand when she offered. Its eight dark orbs stared back at her own eyes from where it sat perched on her palm. It seemed to be asking her:
Julia, are you ready?
Don't Call Me NamesDoreen picked herself up from the ground, dusted herself off and carefully straightened the sleeves of her jacket.
She ignored the sucking gurgling noise of the girl still lying twitching on the ground at her feet, seemingly oblivious to the crawling mass of spiders that enveloped her supine frame completely. Each was deliberately dragging sticky lines of silk around her body, gradually immobilizing her where she lay.
"You should be glad you called me 'Spider Fingers', and not 'Ravenous Raven Beak' or something a little more deadly."
Doreen stopped preening herself, satisfied that her tumble in the dust had left no permanent marks and considered her erstwhile attacker.
"You really are useless as a bully, aren't you?"
She realized talking to the now barely moving cocoon before her was practically useless, and considered leaving her laying there, watching the patch of white fibrous fabric suck in and blow out of the hole where the girl's mouth would be.
Vengeful though she was, Doreen wa

Week one feature, slightly extended because I was lazy. FFM is "Flash Fiction Month", which tasks its participants with writing a flash fiction story (from 55 to 1000) every day in July! :la: :iconflash-fic-month:

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Kelsey Williams
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
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Flash Fiction Month: Body count



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Pixx-73 Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the fav. :bow:
Dahlia-Aubrey Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2014  Student Photographer
Thanks soooo much for the fave!!Heart 
awjay Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2014
guurl thnx for faving...always appreciated
toxic--sunrise Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2014
horribly late, but thank you :heart:
Jam1992 Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for adding Flowers and Time to your favourites :) :)
minicosmicgirl Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2014   Digital Artist
Thank U!
Prakorimas Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for Favorites Icon 3D , Kelsey!
Pidimoro Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2014
 thanks for the fave ;) (Wink) 
lemgras330 Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks so much for faving! :happy: hug
ArianeTorelli Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014  Student Digital Artist
thanks for the fav ^^
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