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    Mr. Trump leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He had made it, he thought. The Oval Office. President of the United Fuckin' States. He looked around his new office, thinking about all the things he could change about it. Hmm, I'm not sure I like the color, he thought. Maybe I'll paint everything gold. He pressed the buzzer on his phone to call his secretary.

     “Donna, get in here. I need you to make a note for me.” He yelled. He heard a sigh and then a response.

     “You've got paper in there, don't you? Write it yourself!” Donna shouted back. Mr. Trump smiled to himself and again pressed the buzzer.

     “Donna, you're fired.” He leaned back again and continued smiling. Fifth secretary this week. I'll never get tired of that. He enjoyed firing people. He'd try to find the simplest excuse to fire someone just because he liked to hear himself say “You're fired.” In fact, he liked hearing himself speak in general. Mr. Trump opened the drawer of his presidential desk and took out his presidential iPad, the one he awarded himself for being Donald Trump. It had his name engraved on the back, which he was very proud of. He liked seeing his name on things. It reminded him that he's Donald Trump.

     “Siri, search 'Donald Trump'” he yelled into the mic on his iPad. Siri took a moment to reply.

     “Here are the top Google results for 'Donald Trump'”, replied Siri. Mr. Trump scrolled down the list, marveling at his name on the screen. He tapped the link to a Fox News article on his latest bill. He smiled as he read the article.

     Under his new bill, Spanish was made illegal in the United States. Not Spanish Spanish, but Mexican Spanish. There's a difference. “Only Mexicans speak Spanish,” he had said when proposing the bill. “Americans speak American. Under my new bill, Americans will only speak American. It's what will make America great again.”

     “And great it is.” He said aloud to himself. He reached over for his coffee mug that said “#1 Trump” on it. He made it for himself as an award for being the #1 Trump. It was his favorite mug. He took a sip of his Trump™ Coffee, which was selling nicely now that he was president. In fact, all his products were selling nicely. Trump™ Cologne, Trump™ Clothing, Trump™ Rifles, even Trump™ Tacos, which was a surprise. He thought about how his name was on everything. He liked that.

     Suddenly, the door opened. It was his wife, Ivana Trump. She was wearing a dress made from tiger skin. It was his favorite dress of hers. He even tried it on a few times.

     “Donald, I heard you fired Donna.” She said. She looked pleased. Mr. Trump nodded excitedly.

     “Fifth one this week.” He yelled. She smiled.

     “Great job, dear. I'll hire another one for you.” She said, and left the room. Mr. Trump took another sip from his coffee mug. Time to Google myself again.

Dear Marley

    I had to summon a lot of willpower to write you this letter. I wasn't originally going to, but I just wanted to tell someone. Anyone. I know I haven't spoken to you in the past few days, or has it been weeks? I'm not even sure anymore. Anyways, I know I haven't said anything to you in...some time, and I hope you aren't mad at me, I really wanted to talk to you but I just haven't been myself lately. Things haven't been going well for me. I've been seeing my therapist for some time now because of what I've been going through but it's not helping. I don't think he understands me at all. Every time I talk to him and we talk about the things I said I'd do but didn't do, I look at him and all I see is sadness and frustration. We aren't getting anywhere. I'm not getting anywhere. I've been stuck in this fucking house for God knows how long and I've been doing jack shit. Nothing's fun anymore. I wanted to talk to you about these things but I was afraid you wouldn't understand. Nobody understands. Hell, I don't even understand. I just want things to be normal again.

    But they won't be. I can't even go back to work because everyone treats me like I'm a slave. They all look at me like I'm inferior and either don't understand what I've been through or just plain don't care. At this point I don't even think it matters which one is the truth. I'm sick of it, man. Fucking sick of it.

    I've been ignoring you, Marley. And I'm deeply sorry for it. I was afraid. No, terrified. That's a better word. I was terrified. You don't know what it's like, Marley. You don't know what it's like for me. Nobody does. Not even my therapist.

    I don't know what else to say. I guess the only other thing I can say is, thank you. For everything.

I wasn't going to upload this originally but I changed my mind. Fair warning: This isn't a happy story.


a reduction or loss of splendor, status, reputation

    Jordan stood proudly in front of his wall. He had finally finished his collection. It took years to put together, but it was worth it. It was full of things he loved. He couldn't wait to show Marie, his best friend. He called her from his cell phone and ecstatically told her to come over. He wanted to show her his collection. She told him that he isn't supposed to be calling her, and asked if he forgot. His excitement died for a moment as he said he did, but then he felt the excitement come back when she mumbled something and said she'd come over, but this had to be the last time. He shouted “thank you” and hung up, excitedly waiting by the door.

    Hours later, she answered the door. He opened it and attempted to hug her, but she pushed him away, saying that she can only stay for a few minutes because she has to pick up her kids. He nodded and led her to the room so he could show her his collection. When she entered the room and saw the collection, she screamed.

    It was full of photographs. Of her.

    Wilson was a scientist. Or rather, a self-proclaimed one. It wasn't as much an occupation as it was a hobby. The others in the scientific community weren't exactly kind to poor Wilson. He was certain that there were things that science alone could not explain, and that magic could fill in the holes of the mysteries of life. The others found his work to be ludicrous, as he had yet to prove anything. Despite this, Wilson continued his work, ignoring any and all setbacks.

     That is, until today.

     Today was a miserable day in the life of Wilson. While he was used to his experiments failing, he had never experienced all his experiments failing in a single day. He pushed onwards, but was quickly growing tired. Optimistic, he poured a strange liquid from one vial into another. That optimism quickly vanished the moment the concoction exploded. Startled, Wilson stepped back with a yelp, quickly examining his hands to make sure they were unharmed. Thankfully, they were. He walked over to his recliner and sat in it, slumping back.

     “Phooey.” He said. He frowned. “The universe hates me,” he said to no one. “No matter what I do, I can't get anything right.”

     “Say, pal.” Said a voice. Wilson jumped. “Who's there?” He quickly glanced around the room, trying to find the source of this voice.

     “I couldn't help but overhear your mumblings, pal.” Said the voice again. Wilson realized it was coming from his radio. Funny, he thought. I don't remember turning it on. “Who are you?” He asked.

     “Y'know, I could help you out. I've got some secret knowledge that oughta push you in the right direction.” Wilson lit up. Despite not receiving an answer to his question, he wanted that knowledge.

     “Is-is there some kind of catch?” Wilson asked, wringing his hands in anticipation. The voice chuckled.

     “Catch? Pal, I'm offering to help you because I'm the kind of guy who likes to help people.” Said the voice. “There's no catch.” Wilson lept up and picked up the radio. “Tell me! Please!” He shouted, not knowing where on the radio to speak into.

     “Here you go, pal.” Suddenly a strange sensation came over Wilson. It hurt like a headache, but he didn't care. He saw, in his mind, calculations, instructions, blueprints, things he couldn't begin to understand. But he knew. He knew what all this meant. He smiled.

     Wilson immediately began preparations. He didn't care how strange the blueprints were or the materials required. This was what he needed. This was going to work. For the first time in a long time, he felt confident in himself.

     Weeks later, Wilson had completed his work. He looked over what he built. He wasn't actually sure what it was he had built. The voice never told him what he was going to build, but he built it anyways. He had cast all doubt aside and although he succeeded, he was beginning to question what it was he was building all this time. Suddenly, the voice spoke after being silent for weeks.

     “Pal, I think you ought to throw that switch over there.” Wilson looked at the switch. He hesitated.

     “Hey, how did you kn--” Before he could finish, the voice on the radio yelled.

     “THROW THE SWITCH!” Wilson jumped, and without hesitation he did as he was told. The moment he did, sparks flew from the machine. He heard a thunderstorm brewing outside, even though the weather was supposed to be clear. The lights in his house flickered, and his house began to shake. Wilson looked around his lab, terrified. Suddenly, lightning struck his house, coursing its way to the machine. It transformed, into what Wilson could only describe as a face with a sinister grin. It was then that Wilson finally realized what it was he had built. It was a portal.

     He turned to run, when suddenly shadows in the shape of hands appeared from the machine. They reached for him. He yelped and tried to run but tripped on his recliner, causing him to fall to the ground. That's when one of the shadowy hands grabbed his leg and pulled him towards the machine.

     “No! Stop! Please!” He shouted. The hands dragged him closer to the machine. He continued shouting, begging the voice to stop this. The voice cackled.

     “Pal, you should be happy.” The voice had a sinister tone to it. “You wanted to prove that magic could explain what science couldn't.” At this point, Wilson was now being held upright, when the hands started pulling downwards. His legs suddenly went numb. The voice spoke once more.

     “You've done what you set out to do. Welcome to the world of magic. My world.” Wilson could feel his waist and his torso going numb. He opened his mouth to shout but one of the shadowy hands covered his mouth, when suddenly everything went black.

    Wilson lay on the ground somewhere. He was motionless, although he was still breathing. He finally regained consciousness moments later, when he heard the voice from the radio speaking.

     “Say pal, you don't look so good. Might want to find something to eat before night comes.” Wilson sat up straight, blinking as he looked for the source of the voice. He saw the silhouette of a tall man, but the silhouette vanished before he could get a good look. He looked over his surroundings.

     He was in some field he didn't recognize. There were some trees scattered about, and plenty of flowers. He stood up. When he did, he felt a cool breeze.

     “Hello? Can anyone hear me!?” He yelled. No response. He shouted again. Nothing. He quickly went over his options, and no matter what scenario he went through, the conclusion was the same: He needed to survive on his own.

     “Well, guess I better start finding supplies.” He said, out loud. He started wandering around, picking up anything he found that could be useful.

     About an hour later, Wilson placed everything he found on the ground in front of him. He looked over what he found. Twigs, grass, berries, flint, and some flowers. He thought for a moment. He had survived on his own in the woods near where he lived before, but he never had done it alone. He remembered a few things about how to craft tools, but he knew that without any scientific instruments they wouldn't last for long. Still, something was better than nothing.

     Wilson started by making an axe. He used some twigs and tied them together with some of the long grass he had picked, and then tied some flint to the end of the twigs. Not his best work, but he didn't exactly have any way of making anything better than that. He then began on a torch.

     When he finished, he realized he was a little hungry. He knew he had to be judicious with food or else he'll starve, so he ate only a small amount of berries to tide him over. He'd have to find better food later.

     After wandering around for what felt like hours, he finally found a nice little spot that was clear of obstructions. He dumped his supplies here, and looked up at the sky. He realized it would be getting dark soon. He was also getting hungry. He still had some berries left, but he didn't want to eat too much of them in a short amount of time. He didn't have anything else to eat, at least not yet. He ate a few more berries and then began chopping down a nearby tree for some wood. Completing this task took only a few minutes, as the tree wasn't very tall and Wilson wasn't as wimpy as he appeared. After the tree fell, he chopped it up into smaller pieces, then used some rocks he found to create a firepit. Hopefully this would contain the fire, as he didn't need to burn anything down just yet.

     He finished just in time, as the sky was starting to turn dark. Wilson sat down near the fire, which was radiating with a warm aura. He realized he was still wearing his white dress shirt and red vest. He looked around him. He didn't see anything that looked dangerous, nor did he feel threatened by anything. He looked back at the fire. The embers flew out as the fire crackled, breaking the eerie silence of this wilderness. He took off his vest and laid it out on the ground, laying his head on it as he lied down. He looked up at the sky. He watched the clouds roll by as he planned his next steps. He needed food, especially meat, as well as some better materials to work with. He also needed a weapon, and some kind of storage. As he thought, he closed his eyes, eventually drifting into sleep.

Don't Starve: Ch. 1 - Wilson
Decided to try my hands at an unofficial adaptation of the game Don't Starve. Hope you enjoy.
I'm probably not going to be paying much attention to deviantART for awhile. I've got some plans I'm trying to set in motion and the only thing keeping me on this site right now are some of my favorite artists. I'll still probably upload stuff from time to time but I'm eventually going to break away from DA at some point. If you want to contact me and still keep in touch, you can find me on Steam or Skype.

Skype: SpykeXD911
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Watching: Markiplier
  • Playing: Planescape: Torment
I'm probably not going to be paying much attention to deviantART for awhile. I've got some plans I'm trying to set in motion and the only thing keeping me on this site right now are some of my favorite artists. I'll still probably upload stuff from time to time but I'm eventually going to break away from DA at some point. If you want to contact me and still keep in touch, you can find me on Steam or Skype.

Skype: SpykeXD911
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Watching: Markiplier
  • Playing: Planescape: Torment


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a gaming enthusiast, and I've played many video games and know a lot about video games. Although I mostly play video games, I do also enjoy writing. I previously attempted to do a webcomic series that parodied other webcomics but became frustrated with my lack of drawing skills, and then tried other things on DA before I finally settled on creative writing. I try to update with a new poem, short story, or novel chapter every week if I don't forget or something else takes up my time.

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Thatguy3331 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015  Student
Thanks for the Favorites Icon 3D  Man!

Out of curiosity how have things been with you?
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2014  Student General Artist
Excuse me, I'm gonna hate you, nor unforgive you for befriending Gligar13Vids, but is there a reason why you're friends with him?
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Because he's a pretty cool guy, he's tough and doesn't afraid of anything.

In all seriousness though, his YouTube videos are just troll videos. He doesn't take them seriously and it's clear you shouldn't either.
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Edited May 28, 2015  Student General Artist
Sorry, I mean't to say I'm not gonna hate you nor unforgivable you.
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
If it means anything, he and I are no longer friends. I got fed up with his bullshit and he started acting like a child when I called CoD casual.
(1 Reply)
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Student General Artist
Maybe I shouldn't. No wonder that he gets verbal abused a lot.
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