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Literature
Death
Death comes without warning. But you have already heard that. Until you actually have someone die in your life you'll have no idea what it's like, but I'll try to give you a clue. You’re walking down the street, taking in the birds singing and the children playing, when suddenly, you turn the corner and lying in front of you is the dead body of a loved one. That's how sudden it feels.
In moments of intense fear and stress, the brain pushes far fewer details of surroundings into the short term memory per second. This often leads to hindsight seeming far shorter, regardless of how much time actually passed. Ironically, the same phenomena occurs when a person experiences intense exuberance, hence the phrase, "Time flies when you're having fun."
I have no memory of losing anyone I know.
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Literature
The End of the Universe
         Silent, blackness. Suddenly an explosion of color, but no sound. A swirling vortex opens out of the nothingness, leading to worlds far away. A ship, dwarfed by the mass, emerges from the depths of the portal. A single man with thousands of instruments pilots the ship. He looks around at the nothingness. He looks at the gauges and meters, all of which tell him that there is nothing here. The portal snaps closed behind him, cutting off his only way back. You can't hear a scream in space.
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Stormy Seas :iconkevinkils:kevinkils 0 2
Literature
Rock
Rock
I am a rock.
Grey, cold.
Hard exterior, and hard interior.
I sit, I am a rock.
         I have been a rock for thousands of years, before that I was just a different kind of rock. I have been through fire, snow, and rain. Each year I feel a speck of me slip away, but it will just become a new rock someday. No matter what happens to the world, in one form or another I will still be here, as a rock. Immortality. Never dying, only changing. I last forever, seeing lives come and go in the blink of an eye. While the rest of life runs and plays and dies, I stay. Forever a rock. Still, unmoving, unthinking. Lifeless rock.
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Literature
Ode to Snow
Softly dancing fractal shards,
drifting down from skies above,
not a whisper of a sound,
white as plumage of a dove.
Hidden now is the life,
deep beneath the silken shroud,
Yet living are the twirling specks,
each with a voice so loud.
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:iconkevinkils:kevinkils 5 3
Literature
Lies
"How are you?"
"I'm just fine"
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Literature
Anger
         I hate conflict. I make it a point in life to avoid starting or participating in conflict. So far this has been fairly successful, I never directly insult or criticize anyone. I always try to make others days better, but not just for them, mostly for myself. For I have a powerful sea of anger lying beneath the surface of my mind. I keep it well tamed, but I can't control it all the time. It manifests at random times, a passerby gave me a funny look, I hate him with a fiery passion; a person online say your instead of you’re, they are the lowest form of human being. Often I catch myself and can remind myself to calm down, but I haven’t always been able to. Up until seventh grade, I was very violent with my brothers. They have always annoyed me, something perfectly natural in most families, but to me it was a stick constantly poking the bear of my anger. I would, and still do, immediately writhe with anger, but now I can stop myself from phys
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Literature
Heroes
         A warm summer breeze drifted through the rows and rows of tall bookcases. Beams of warm sunlight split the air into orderly sections, as each corresponded with a large, arched window that lined the arching walls. Above a vast ceiling stretched in a great curve, lined with many beams of strong wooden supports. The smell of old paper hung in the air, mixed with the scent of many different woods. The walls were made of a rough stone, cut into bricks and firmly molded together. A spiral staircase ran up the back of the room, connecting the many floors that sprouted from the walls and stopped after a few yards. This place spoke old words, forgotten words. Countless musty tomes of irregular size and shape lined the shelves. Each was an adventure, or another world, or a love story. Every book was a portal into another world, where the reader was invited to sit and watch the events unfold before them like an omnipotent god. Every page paints a picture.
 
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Literature
Place
Mercurial and different. Many sounds so pleasing to the ear, and just as many unpleasant. A soft, green carpet covers nearly all, though in some places it has faded. One, bright light hangs from the ceiling, lighting all. When the light turns off, tiny pinpricks of light shine through holes in the ceiling; one, smaller light shines, lighting some. Ever changing is this room, changing quickly and slow. Quickly float the pillows across the ceiling. Slowly fades the carpet from where ever we may tread.
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:iconkevinkils:kevinkils 2 4
Literature
.
"We see the things we aren't"
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:iconkevinkils:kevinkils 5 3
Literature
Snowflakes
          It was snowing. Beautiful white flakes twirled and danced around one another as Caroline pressed her face against the cool glass. She stayed like this for some time, simply content to watch the small, fragile snowflakes fall through the air without any guidance or control. Suddenly, she sat up, wincing as the window clung to her face as she pulled away. She got up off the couch she had been sitting on and looked around. The small room seemed to look back at her. The drooping, peeling wallpaper seemingly stretched into a wide smile.
          She looked away, sighing to herself as she made her way into the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the table, fast asleep. She smiled to herself, and went to get something from the fridge. When she passed closest to her father, he jerked awake, knocking over several bottles. When he spun around, his eyes were hazy and out of focus and his breath reeked of the foul bottle. Eventually, he f
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Literature
A Message From The Doctor
"Help me, please! I'm trapped in a parallel universe. I've rigged the TARDIS to transmit a message into your universe via the inspiration of artists. They don't even know that what they're making is real. They think that they came up with it all themselves. Even the man writing this message has no idea that it is real. He thinks he came up with it. And the more he writes about it, the cleverer he thinks he is, but it isn't true! Unfortunately, nobody is taking any of my messages seriously because everyone is convinced that they are fiction. I beg of you, open up your minds to the possibility that these fictions are fact, and convince your world to believe in the Doctor!"
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Literature
Would You Rather?
         Allow me to pose a hypothetical. You are trapped. Buried alive underground with no hope of escape or rescue. The only thing you have is a lit candle. You have two options, you can blow out the candle and survive longer, or you can leave the candle lit, and live your last moments in the light. The real question here is, would you rather live your life bright yet short like a flame, or live a little longer in the darkness? The choice is yours.
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:iconkevinkils:kevinkils 5 0
Literature
It Ends With a Bang!
The sound of fingers tapping on glass floats into the darkened room. You rise out of your brown, leather armchair to go and investigate. Walking down the hall, you glance at the derelict mirror on the dresser. A thin, gaunt face looms back at you. A face with sunken eyes and yellowed teeth. As you enter the front room, you find the source of the tapping: a branch outside blowing in the wind. Your stomach rumbles in hunger, commanding you to hunt for food. You enter the kitchen. The subtle smell of mildew and sour milk lingers in the air. A few discarded dishes line the sink and counters.
You pull a can of soup from the cabinet. You notice with a sigh that it is the last one. You open it and drink from the can. The room temperature soup is far from pleasant, but you will take anything you can get. You finish the soup and throw the can at a bin. You miss and it clatters against the wall, but you do nothing about it. Looking around, your mood sinks further and further down as you take in
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kevinkils
Nobody
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am just an amateur writer with little experience. I enjoy reading and computer coding because both allow me to think outside the box. I probably won't update very often, but I hope that you will enjoy the results when I do. Thank you for reading through this boring bio about someone you could care less about and enjoy.

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:iconcreatingisbreathing:
creatingisbreathing Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2015   Traditional Artist
Thank you for everything! Hope to see some new poems from you soon :)
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:iconcatscratchpaper:
CatScratchPaper Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the watch!
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:iconkevinkils:
kevinkils Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Yeah I got your card a bronyCon and really liked your art!
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:iconthemaninroomfive:
themaninroomfive Featured By Owner May 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthdayyyy!
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:iconkevinkils:
kevinkils Featured By Owner May 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thankssss!
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:iconcreatingisbreathing:
creatingisbreathing Featured By Owner May 6, 2015   Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday! I whish you all the best, keep creating! birthday cake 
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:iconkevinkils:
kevinkils Featured By Owner May 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much! 😄
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:iconthemaninroomfive:
themaninroomfive Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Cheers again for the favourite! 
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:iconmershnack:
Mershnack Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2014  Student Filmographer
Thanks for the fav man!
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