MrBrickwell

"Mr" is fine.

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The Sorcerer by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

The Sorcerer

The Sorcerer Smith hunkered down into the bushes, and slowly withdrew the concealed sawn-off shotgun he had grown so used to carrying these past few centuries. His fanatical mind once again turned to the task at hand. Today was going to be the day. He had pursued his quarry for too long. Today was going to be the day. Centuries of running, chasing, and hunting would come to an end. Today was going to be the day. Soon The Sorcerer would be exiting the building via the door in the alley. Smith didn't know what was inside. It was likely a brothel that catered to such sordid activities that The Sorcerer was so fond of partaking in. Today was g

Meeting Dracula by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Meeting Dracula

Meeting Dracula After countless hours of trying to play the worldwide prank that is Castlevania, I had finally reached Dracula. With all the time that I had spend playing it, I could have written a book, learned a foreign language, gotten a part-time job, and figured out the meaning of life. However, this was not meant to be. My one and only mission was defeating the first and strongest of all vampires, Dracula himself. First, a word about vampires. Vampires are not your friends. They do not sparkle in sunlight; they explode in a fiery blast that returns their damned souls to the Hell from whence they came. No vampire wants to speak to yo

Dueling Protocats, Issue 1 by MrBrickwell, literature

Creationism- A Satire by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Creationism- A Satire

Creationism is an idea that defines the way that we as a human race ended up at where we are today. In short, God created the world as it is written in the Bible. While there may be other ideas out there, such as evolution, all of them are wrong. The only one that is right is the one in The Bible, as it is God's word on paper. There are many reasons why everyone should believe in this idea, as it is complete and total fact. These examples include; why it is so obvious to see that this is the only possible explanation for human existence, how Creationism is seen in this country, and what would happen if one did not believe in Creationism. S

Merry Fuckin Christmas by MrBrickwell, literature

Katie's Predicament by MrBrickwell, literature

Depression, Part 5 by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Depression, Part 5

The tower is too tall now, it wobbles and twists with each breath. It's only a matter of time now. So a day that started, 24 hour cycle, a copy that is exactly like the last. Black and White, the colors are but memories. Epihphany, something breaks through. Your red hair a flame that burns the shadows away. And sitting on the ground in Brazil, Everything finally lifts, as I cry it all onto your shoulder. The bloody tears confirm, The tower has fallen. Suddenly the warmth hits me, and the cold is stolen away. With your body pressed against mine, I can't be cold anymore. And all the color comes streaming back, my eyes bur

Depression, Part 4 by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Depression, Part 4

I saw color for the first time today In at least a week. Your flowing red hair burns whats left of me to cinders. I try to remember the good times that once were, but there is nothing left of me to recall. As you walk farther down the street, all the color fades and again I'm left, this negative shaded world consumes me again. At this point it strikes me that the breakdown will happen. I don't know what's still holding it all up. A child's tower built too tall, The wind collapses. When it will happen, the only question that remains. I don't know if I should be terrified or ecstatic, or if the destruction and defamation will

Depression, Part 3 by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Depression, Part 3

I awoke today cold. Not the kind of cold when you get out of bed, and you feet freeze to the floor Rather this was profound and consuming, the most devastating I could comprehend. After a long day in the cold streets, I went home and cacooned myself in the covers, shut the windows and tried to warm myself. Then I realized that I couldn't, because this cold wasn't invading me, but emanating from me. From the empty void where my soul should be. I'll be cold forever.

Depression, Part 2 by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Depression, Part 2

Still in the black and white world, Things degrade further. Emotional slaughter that condemns me Everywhere on my body is just points of pain The tower is built taller, Swaying and rocking, when will it fall and on whom? Left alone, my empty shell, is the only thing that is constant. Why can nothing be concrete? Everything is static, shadows in the dark. I claw off my face to try to make the time pass faster. and as the blood and flesh flies out in chunks, I realize exactly how pathetic I have become. What has happened? I was happy once. With no end in sight, I find the meaning of the end of the line and my rope.

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The Sorcerer by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

The Sorcerer

Meeting Dracula by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Meeting Dracula

Dueling Protocats, Issue 1 by MrBrickwell, literature

The tragedy of Edward Spier by MrBrickwell, literature

The Tofu Incident by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

The Tofu Incident

The Tofu Incident "Why don't you just fucking pick one already?" I screamed. "We've been here for more than three hours now, and it's not as if this is important anyways!" My outburst went unnoticed, however, as Kelly simply ignored me and continued to stare at the box-shaped packages that she held in her hands. "I want to get the best stuff," she said, casually moving one of her curly blonde bangs out of her eye and persisting in the arduous process of selecting tofu. "You can't just buy any kind of tofu," she began, "you have to make sure it's good." I had no idea what she could possibly mean by "good tofu." As

A Death Notice by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

A Death Notice

A death notice Mr. Vito M. Iacobazzi is dead. 80 years old, a Woodridge and former Darien resident. He is remembered by five sentences in the local newspaper. Eight decades old and all that is remembered of him is a paragraph. Vito M. Iacobazzi served in the U.S. Army during World War Two. A furniture salesman before he retired. I will never know Mr. Vito M. Iacobazzi, because he is dead. The only remnant left for me is this obituary. At least he was old, I think As if such a thought can possibly take the sheer crushing blow of death easier to take. It's sad, really. That Mr. Vito M. Iacobazzi is dead. Although I never knew him

As viewed from 80 Stories by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

As viewed from 80 Stories

As Viewed From 80 Stories Then… In a tall tree Deep in the urban jungle One of the highest high rises Towering over all that is real: We're not in Kansas anymore Standing in the steel monolith, In the glowing corridors of the top floor, I look down To see the surging, Huddling masses composed of humanity, A crew of ants that runs madly about To where? And Why? A 5 year old mind can't comprehend People can't be that insignificant. How did they ever get so small? Now…. Standing in the steel monolith, In the glowing corridors of the top floor, I look down. To the same surging, Huddling masses composed of humanity. A crew

D-177 by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

D-177

D-177 In my sunny isolation My soundproof fortress With its turrets made of Faders, Monitors Amps Levels And headphones. Patrolled by the dead gods of rock and roll, Shooting melodic cannonballs From massive speakers. I find myself staring at the minidisks, The fruits of countless hours of toil. I know the numbers of my favorites. #126- A thunderstorm of crimson, Loud flashes that rain deafeningly and then roll quietly into the distance. #204- A loud riot in a ritzy suburban development, Hundreds of raucous decibels powered with an energy so high it's ultraviolet. #138- Music that loves life, and sounds like the joy of exp

Silence by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Silence

Silence, a specter that sneaks up on me, Clomping its noiseless footsteps, Like hammers on anvils. It's a many-tentacled beast, Wrapping up around me, Breathing in my ears, Strangling and choking me. I can't breathe or fight it off. So I just keep talking About nothing, Anything. Birds chirping at the lights of dawn. I despise the taste of silence, Bitter and harsh, Sand and mud mixed with concrete and poured down my throat. Its very essence is deafening, Like a Boeing 747 taking off at 180 silent decibels. I'm so fearful of the million black, silent hands. Pulling me down to an unknown abyss. I can't stop running.

Chasm by MrBrickwell, literature

Literature

Chasm

Overwhelmed, I find myself Covered in a bright flock, Giant swarm, Of fuzzy Monarch butterflies. I find myself staring at An infinite chasm Between us. All I need is a pendulum It's only four feet, between us. But I can't ump the sixty-four miles I need to get across. I'm so insignificant, it's ridiculous If I jump and fall, you can Set up one of those roadside crosses, with a candlelight vigil. Or maybe auction my stuff on EBay and make a profit. Or frame my pictures and talk to the news about What a nice guy I was. And then I realize You won't have to; It's only four feet Between us. It only seems far. So I think ab

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The Fall of the Dancing Man by braakdown, literature

Literature

The Fall of the Dancing Man

I saw a man dancing yesterday, so I kicked his ass. I could not tolerate the unbridled display of exuberance, so I attacked him. I cannot know what he was thinking, what he had to be glad about. I did not stop to ask him. Instead I saw his joy, and I crushed it. His pleasure was greater than my own, so I took it. Sometimes your light must be hidden. There are people like me who would extinguish it. Life, vitality, energy: these are precious commodities, and as is the nature of such things, they are coveted. Jealous men will set upon you to rape and steal. I know. For a minute, though, appreciate my situation. My li

Deviation Spotlight

just a desktop by MrBrickwell, visual art

just a desktop

MrBrickwell

About MrBrickwell

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United States
Deviant for 18 years
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: Dekalb/Downers Grove, Illinois. (Yes, I know that you have no idea where either of those are)
deviantWEAR sizing preference: M
Print preference: Free
Favourite genre of music: Ska
Operating System: The fact that I still refuse to die.
MP3 player of choice: Ipod, which is awesome. I love Apple.
Shell of choice: Emo Kid
Wallpaper of choice: Red
Favourite cartoon character: General Grevious
Personal Quote: The stars that we wished on burned out long ago...

Favourite Visual Artist

Pollack

Favourite Movies

Fight Club

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

At The Drive-In

Favourite Writers

Shakesphere

Favourite Games

Toejam And Earl

Favourite Gaming Platform

Olde Schule Sega Genesis

Tools of the Trade

A 9mm and a Three Piece Suit.

Posts

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MrBrickwell

Feb 25, 2010

Wanted: Comic artist

0 min read

My friend that was working on my current comic project, "Dueling Protocats," had to quit since he no longer had the time to work on it. The script for issue #1 is up, If you're interested or know someone that is, read it and let me know. Thanks a lot!

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MrBrickwell

Feb 13, 2010

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing.

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MrBrickwell

Jan 31, 2010

Birthday

0 min read

I realized today that there is less than 2 weeks until my birthday. This greatly upsets me. On February 13th, I'll officially be 23 years old. Fuck. Something happens to me annually on my birthday, or at least during the weeks leading up to it, that fills me with disdain. Namely, I tend to look at the last year and wonder what I have accomplished. I decided years ago that I really want to figure out a way to harness the admittedly large amount of creative energy that I can produce. Yet each year, when my birthday rolls around, I find that I am no closer to my ultimate goal than I was last year. The main reason for this is that I always t