Nobody wants the thimble.Kimmy's mom and dad snuggle her down in the beanbag chair as they get out the board games and have a vote on which one should be the party game. Monopoly wins.Nobody wants the thimble. by StandingCat
Little five-year old Kimmy watches as the board is set up, the "banker" is assigned, and finally, all the pieces are laid out. The classic argument. Kimmy's seven-year old brother immediately "calls" the doggie. Her hippie cousin grabs the shoe, and her boyfriend takes the boat. Grandma and Grandpa pick the cannon and the iron, and finally, Kimmy's mum and Dad take the top hat and the wheelbarrow. Kimmy notices one piece has been completely ignored: the thimble. The thimble, she decides, doesn't have a real purpose as a game piece: with the car, one can zoom around the board in style. With the shoe, one can get the feeling of "walking" around the board. With the boat, one can sail. The cannon inspires competitive spirit, the iron flattens everything in its path. The top hat is for businessmen, and the wheelbarrow can lug
HeadlightsHeadlights are piercing through the night as the neighbourhood lights flicker out, house by house.Headlights by StandingCat
The car has been evacuated, leaving it looking blank, and perhaps slightly lonely, sitting out in the snow.
It appears that the owner has been careless. Why, the headlights have been left on, and the car is sitting a bit farther away from the curb than people normally park.
A rushed parking job?
Who drove this car?
It could be a person running for their life.
It could be a person running to save someone else's.
It could be a person running to catch their foolish brother and to stop him from doing something rash.
They could be running to stop their lover from leaving them.
They could be running to stop their dear friend from ending her life.
Who knows? Maybe they're just running late.
Find your love.Love is lifeFind your love. by StandingCat
and life is love.
Your voice rings
softly as a dove.
Life is love
and love is life.
You calm the panic,
soothe the strife.
Hate is death
and death is hate.
The mournful cries
come far too late.
Death is hate
and hate is death.
We succumb one day
to it's icy breath.
Hi! My name's Lexa. I'm an aspiring photographer, singer, actor and author, and during my stay at deviantART, I hope to improve my drawing skills as well. If you take the time to have a look at some of my art, I would really appreciate some feedback, especially on my literature pieces. Thank you!