Power to the Prose

 
It has come to my attention, and many others attention, that prose doesn't get as much attention as poetry does in the literature community. It is also very, very hard to find good, decent prose when you have to wade through all the other, mis-categorized pieces in the prose section of deviantART. Well, I have come up with a solution to this problem. I am starting a feature to introduce different prose pieces to the deviants of dA. I have gone through and combed through the pieces to find some really good ones. I plan to do one every two weeks (or once a month, I haven't decided yet).

I have decided to do something a bit different for this feature. Six prose deviations will be featured as well as six prose writers different from the writers featured in the Featured Prose.

Featured Prose

Blu's Witch Hunt StoryEngland had its fair share of terrible events that should have never happened. One of these was the Witch Hunts that took place in the 17th Century all the way to the last excoriation which was in 18th Century. Many were killed in the hysteria and thousands more were trialled. Soon the idea of witches spread across the country even to the New World, people begun to yell ‘witch’ at anyone who they didn't like or believed wronged them and even followers of God were witches.
This tale will be about a young prophet named Blu because of his bright sapphire eyes, he spent at least eighteen hours in constant prayer every day and the rest of the time was spent eating, drinking, sleeping and spreading the word of God to those who need it in the town. It became tradition to bring newborn children to Blu to be given a prophesy about the child, such as, “This child will achieve great things.” Blu never discriminated between rich and poor every child got blessed and sent awa Greasy Chin PrintsI was accused of having sex with a sophomore in the art class storage room in October of my senior year (which, by the way, is not what happened). On my way home that day, looking at a few weeks grounding and a disappointed mother (it could have been worse, but because they couldn’t technically prove anything they had to give me a pink slip for ditching class), I saw Pam for the first time waiting on the corner of Harrison and Green Vale. Let me just say that I’ve been watching this girl for three years, okay. Yes, I know that sounds…great, but there’s no other way to say it. There’s just something in the contours of her placid voice and light-switch personality and her dead stare that my eyes can’t let go.
On that corner I stood behind her, my eyes turned down on the top of her head. Her hair was white as an Alaskan blizzard. A shift of her head revealed that her brows were thin, sewn-on strands of pearlescent embroidery floss. Her eye Mushroom PieMushroom Pie
14-8-14
“Come and get it whilst it’s hot,” a call that echoed out the back door to the branches of a near-by tree where a young girl was sitting with a book and a cat.
The cat turned to face the house and for a moment the mother could have sworn that a half-moon grin and twinkling evil-humorous eyes took over the poor tabby; just for a moment though for after a quick wink the tabby was all tabby again.
“What is it?” the young girl fluffed down her skirts and enquired.
“Mushroom pie. I went picking this morning, but you obviously got there ahead of my judging by the mushrooms in the pocket of your apron,” alarm floated in front of the girl’s eyes but she could not remember what she had to be alarmed about. “One side makes you grow taller, the other side makes you grow shorter” echoed through her brain from a nasty dream whose reach went far beyond white rabbits and tea parties.
“Alice,<da:thumb id="475427519"/> Know Respect - Age Regression (Physical)1
Creating a tattoo is difficult. Giving yourself a tattoo is even harder. So modifying a tattoo on your back is something you’d only do if you were terribly stupid, drunk, or skilled. Sefin of Miskara couldn’t imagine himself as the first and certainly wasn’t the second. However, whether or not he was skilled, he was supremely arrogant. None other of his people had tried such blasphemy: the Miskara tattoos, which his people were born with, were an external expression of what they regarded as an internal truth: their destiny, their talent. Literally, the mark of the gods within. And Sefin was modifying his: tan skin, latticed with black stripes, dots and swirls. He lay upon his belly, working brush and needle while straining his neck to observe his handiwork in a mirror suspended from the ceiling above his massage table. He’d been at it for nearly an hour now. His back ached, and the cloth beneath his head was soaked with sweat despite the fan he had runn The Mystery of the Stolen ShoelacesThe Mystery of the Stolen Shoelaces - An Amanda Jones Adventure
“Mein schuh!” the girl shouted as she chased after the masked witches who had stolen her shoe.  They were busy tearing the laces out of them before handing the shoe back to her.
“Laces are very valuable to them it seems,” Amanda laughed as the girl tried to put the laceless sneaker back on her foot.  She was nearly trampled by the marching band as the parade continued behind her.  It was an unusually warm afternoon on November 11th and the fasnet parade had just begun on the streets of Cologne Germany.  Amanda Jones and Hannah Duffy were in attendance, having never seen the cultural display.  Only Katrin Weber, the German native was familiar with the playful antics of the day.  She had invited the summer sleuths to visit during their fall semester holiday.
“Yes at the Fasnet parade you have to watch out for those witches,” Katrin said withdrawing into the cr

Featured Deviants

LizardheartMC | MrSurrealist | Woody897 | ReinaHW
| back-bones | InflatablePiggy128

Foreign Language Features

Gado prescht vor
Schließlich holten die Helden doch noch Kenmeina seishin ein. Der Marderhund drückte sich gegen eine Felswand um einen der hyakki zu entkommen, doch er saß in der Falle.
»Moment! Haben wir die nicht alle besiegt? Jastany, du hast doch mitgezählt.«
»Nach meiner Schätzung müssten es auch einhundert gewesen sein. Allerdings bin ich auch nicht die ganze Zeit bei der Sache gewesen, wie du weißt.«
»Ach, stimmt ja! Da war ja was. Sollen wir den auch noch alle machen?«
»Besser ist. Musubi meinte mal, dass das Licht erst dann wiederkehrt wenn die hyakki komplett vernichtet sind. Als er das sagte warst du übrigens auch dabei. Nur so am Rande.«
»Echt jetzt?«
»Du solltest vielleicht mal aufhören ständig zu saufen und mal ein paar Konzentrationsübungen machen. Und da geht sie wieder…«
Gādo preschte vor.
Der hyakki lächelte bösartig. »Du trägst viel Dunkel   Chapter 5- Kurde! - biegła najszybciej jak mogła, bo nie wzięła z domu przepustki. Zapomniała o Sophie i Godzinie Kontrolnej, jeśli nie zdąży, będzie miała kłopoty. Dom jej najstarszej siostry Margeret, jej męża Stevena i ich córki Lucy znajdował się dwie przecznice od miejsca w którym się znajdowała. Nie miała pewności czy zdąży przed tą cholerną trzynastą, żeby nie sprawdzili jej przepustki. Otóż Godzina Kontrolna została wymyślona całkowicie niedawno i jest chyba najgłupszą rzeczą jaką wymyślili w Systemie. Każdego dnia poza niedzielą o godzinie trzynastej sprawdzane jest, czy jakiś obywatel nie zmienił miejsca pobytu miejskiego czy dzielnicowego, bo to utrudniłoby raporty i działanie Systemu. Jakby nie mogli go w ogóle znieść! Za dwie trzynasta, a dom siostry tu

After Note

I hope you have enjoyed this article for prose features. They will be updated every other Sunday. As for the time on Sunday, it will depend on my work schedule. Until classes start in a few weeks, these will be updated whenever I'm off work. Next update is scheduled for Wednesday, August 20, 2014.