PainThey had told me how it was going to be.Pain3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I was to lie still, and let them do the work, but hey, I never agreed to not scream, did I?
So I screamed. I screamed as if there was no tomorrow. I screamed because the local anesthesia didn't quite mask the effect of the six inch knife that was now slicing its way across my gut, the blood flowing down the sides, onto the table.
"Clench on this." The orderly pressed down a cloth firmly into my open mouth. The dry cloth smelt, but there was nothing I could do about it. So I clenched, as hard as I could. I must have been clenching really hard, since I think I passed out.
When I woke up the bearded doctor was standing over me, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light that hung over the window. A sulking nurse stood on the other side of the bed.
"It was a successful operation. You rest for now," he patted me on the shoulder. Leaving, he motioned to the nurse, "If you will."
From the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse inject something
Fisher Girl The Fisher-girlFisher Girl4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
And words will fail a girl;
Staring about in this empty grey;
Straining eyes against the frosting fog which lies
Thicker than a shroud about a vault.
(How insignificant one can seem)
No separation exists here, between the heaven and the hell.
A lonely craft and its occupant
Suspended in a monotone
Like a spider in its web.
Friendly, creaking wood;
The stark realism of a tiny spire
Standing like a shot against the empty mist
She is alone
Her sun now hidden
In that rich and tasteless fog.
And her Earth?
Is it a million miles away?
Or does it lie ahead
Perhaps to wound her tiny craft, and leave her
Struck with fears of dying.
Where are the gulls?
Where is her home?
And the sea is so still
And the fisher-girl, does not.
Oh, you dreaded day, you monster!
Do you come to petrify a soul?
If so, go away
Your job is done .
But, it does not
And the sea is lonelier still.
Looking UpEvery person that I pass on the street either looks at me and smiles, or looks down at the passing cracks and scuffed boots that refuse to look back. Not one ever looks up. As a human I feel restrained in this two-way world, and as a stranger I feel helpless.Looking Up7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Did you see the man with the tattered work gloves? How he hid his fingers in his sweat-stained blue jeans and held a staring contest with his steel toes? I wish he knew that I walked by, that if he was to pass by me a second time, a that man looks more tired than the last time I saw him thought could run through his mind. He cant even imagine where hes going because he is too busy stuffing his mind with personal guilt. Nobody blames him but himself: for his menial job, his workaday routine, his solitude.
But I am just assuming here. I couldnt pinpoint this mans face in a lineup, or greet him by his predictable nickname. He would tell me (if he could see me), that the brim of his cap simpl
Eat"Oy, let me see your calorie card!" The skinny man at the hotdog stand demanded, holding my hotdog just out of reach.Eat6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I sighed and dug the plastic out of my pocket, handing it to him with a sour grimace on my face. I was sure I had already exceeded my allotted 1500 calories for today, but I was just so darn hungry. Seriously, what was one hotdog going to do to my figure anyway?
He shook his head as he swiped it through the scanner. "Sorry girlie. This hot dog is 242 calories. You only have 10 calories left for today." He shooed me away in preference of those with enough calories on their card to afford his food.
My stomach grumbled its complaints all the way home. If I had really wanted that hotdog I could have gone to the gym and earned more calories on my card, but I really wasn't in the mood for exercise.
It started in California, taking hold among the mothers who didn't want their kids to become fat
leavemedon'tleaveme.you make me sick. you make my stomach fold in on itself and press out against the lining of my flesh. you put lumps in my throat and you tie strings to my tear glands and tug until the world is just a panoply of blurred lines, hazy colour and bokeh.leavemedon'tleaveme.7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
you made me do this. you put the knife in my fingers and you told me to tear, you said you would care if i hurt myself like this. you said youd care if i opened my flesh up for you like a gift of blood and flesh and tissue. but you never really did.
i like being small, i like being the blue eyed girl sitting amidst background noise, rubber band arms holding the necks of her legs together. i like being the blue eyed girl with hands holding her from spilling in a mess at everyones toes. i like it when theyre your hands.
i try to define you with mental disorders. i say you have schizophrenia and pretend its a valid excuse. im in love with one of your personalities, but the other doesnt even notice
Grammar Nazi AppealGrammar Nazis worldwideGrammar Nazi Appeal9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
need YOU to spell correctly.
Preserve our apostrophes!
Dear English language (ab)user,
After many arduous years of being forced to endure witnessing the tragic downfall of what we have all come to cherish as our native tongue, this Christmas the opportunity to make a stand and prevent this sinful slaughter has arisen. But the question is do you have the strength of heart and the compassion it will take to end this brutality?
Writers, readers and even arithmeticians worldwide cannot withstand such callous cruelty a second longer. Hyphens cower under their beds, colons huddle beneath their sheets and apostrophes wake screaming in the night because of the nauseating nightmares of abuse. You must help us put a full stop to this at once! All that you have to do is to stick up for our battered friend the comma, or end the bullying of the trusty question mark, or you could even join us in our quest to salvage the dignity of our humble yet painfully physical
SH.Encounter:Hidden Secret.Ch3SH.Encounter:Hidden Secret.Ch34 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
What's written in -...- means a person talking.
I should apologize that my stories has a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes, but that's just something I can't control So I APOLOGIZE about it
Please don't get angry about it..!
SasuHina. Encounter: Hidden Secret. Ch3.
The more Hinata thought about it, the scarier it got Why would Uchiha Sasuke bother her with things like these? Why would he want to make Hinata fall for him?
It was useless anyway as Hinata was more attracted to the nature of the person, not to the appearance. And Hinata was really well informed about the kind of guys Sasuke was She had to work with a lot of them.
-Hime, would you please hurry up? Her thoughts interrupted Kurenai. Hinata was already for fifteen minutes taking a rest and drinking coffee. She was standing on the balcony and looking at the nice view from tenth floor.
-Yes, I will be right there. Hinata answered and smiled. She ha
FuelHorace Windsor stood bundled and shivering against the passenger door of his sleek black Rolls Royce. A cigarette was clenched between his bluish fingers. He exhaled, a shaky stream of frozen breath and toxic smoke hissing from his teeth. Christ, it was cold.Fuel7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Come on, come on," he chattered as the ancient gas pump chugged at a painstakingly slow pace. The numbers on the meter showed little progress. If not for his damned wife, he could have just stayed in the car. Four days of tedious corporate meetings and he was expected to make the three hour journey home without a single cigarette? "It will ruin the interior, Horace," she had scolded, "We only just bought the car last month." On any other day, he would have rebelled, but he didn't feel like putting up with her nagging after returning home from such a long week. He just wanted to get home and sleep in his own bed. The hotel had had an
pretty boys break hearts.sometimes I think Im just a mess of badly drawn lines. Im just scrawled veins beneath paper rough skin, I wear poorly sketched scars on my thighs [skin deep red pen lines] and even my smile is lop-sided- but he never seemed to notice.pretty boys break hearts.7 years ago in Teen More Like This
my skin [spread like thick icing over my skeleton] is a monotonous pattern of pores, a stretch of the world the sun never kissed. I cant see the beauty in multitudes of freckles and chipped fingernails- but he does.
why do you love me?
you make me happy.
I never could figure out just how. was it my illegible love notes, or the tiny hearts I drew into his bare back with my fingertips? was it the filth on my knees or the way I named every bowing flower in my garden? maybe it was the way I sewed the stars to the navy sky and told him in a little, little voice-that I loved him.
either way he made my heart skip beats and bumps and bangs and he made me feel beautiful, a little
A Rose by Any Other NameA Rose by Any Other Name6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
In a white hospital bed, pale as the lifeless bones of a decaying skeleton, with my flesh exposed through the backless dress of my hospital gown, I listen to nurses discuss my mental health. I can taste the quiet tap of a pen on paper and their tiny smiles of contempt.
Shame comes in waves. Its not like a scalpel or the cold touch of a surgeons hand. They never tell you that it can eat away at your insides like a virus. (That it eats you alive). Shame is not a symptom of the mentally ill. Its just a side effect.
In my creased hospital dress, I wish for death. The sweetest sleep away from detached, gloved hands and dissociative expressions. The never-ending hostile questions and the silent blame and accusations lying unspoken on dry lips.
You did this. Youre not sick. Youre just a twisted, manipulative lunatic.
Under medication and the slow Novocain drip of sedation, I wish for another disease. I want a tumor in my head something t
Yarn - StoryYarn - Story3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There it lies before me. Silently criticising me. Mocking me. Motionless. An orb. Large. Round. And very. Very. Blue.
This is not the first time I have come face to face with this foe. Nor will it be the last. Soon I shall annihilate him! And the safety of humanity will fall upon me. Tiddle's the superior!
Well what did you think I was going to say? Do you really think there are such things as super heroes? Don't be silly! Kittens however. We exist. Sadly not all of us have homes and we are forced to roam the streets, keeping those nasty rodents and their diseases at bay. Sadly, though, your human minds do not see us as the reliable cleaners we are, you see us on the streets and assume we are worthless or broken.
However, back to the orb. I'm not allowed to touch the orb. O
Notebook scribbles - 1My wandering mind rests in your eyes,Notebook scribbles - 17 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
trying in vain to understand.
One brief second, and it goes insane.
The thoughts are lost in all its vastness.
They have no connection and make no sense, but
they are plenty.
Plenty enough to keep me going, through all this madness.
The portal between the mind and eyes
is now but a thin line, as vague as it is unseen.
The mind is unaware of what the eyes convey.
The eyes fail to convey the message in yours.
I wish to tell you that it's me and not you,
but my being fails to comprehend.
All that is said now is nothing.
I let it be, for there really is nothing to say.
i'm the girl.you want to know who i am?i'm the girl.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i am the girl falling asleep headfirst on top of the covers to the clackclackclacking of the rain against the windowpane. i am dreaming in tarnished poetry and rotting hopes, birdbone-wrists locking together, fingers plucking the strings along guitar-ribs. i am loving myself even as i pull apart wishbone-veins, stringing myself out across the carpet to pick out the parts i like best.
and i am the girl wandering the aisles of the book store. i am curling in corners with hemmingway, touching the pages like a lover, smelling the ink because im the girl who thinks books smell like faith. im tucking myself between each syllable, climbing down the commas and resting on the vowels. i am sticking my post-it-note-wishes over the adjectives, waiting for the words to bleed through the page and stain the backside of my skin.
and i am the girl holding her elbows when watching the ocean. i am pulling the stitches closed and wincing against the saltwater on my s
This Time ImperfectThis Time Imperfect9 years ago in Horror More Like This
This Time Imperfect
It was a very dark and gloomy day. Jade stared out the window as the rain continued to pour down. Night was falling, yet he could not move from his place. He had not moved an inch for two days, since his mother's death had occurred, and her body taken away. Finally, the loneliness got to Jade, and he said to himself, "I can not leave here, I can not stay. I will now be forever haunted by this event, and more than afraid of what could happen next to me." He sighed and continued to stare out at the blackened sky, as he began to turn a slight shade of blue from the cold. Jade shivered as the wind howled, then finally moved from his spot, to his room, to process all of the events that had happened from the moment before his mother's death.
The next morning, Jade awoke suddenly. He turned over in his bed and looked at the time. "Ten," he muttered to himself. "I should probably get ready now," Jade thought to himself. He slid out of bed and began to get ready for his moth
People Who Write Legends People who write legends, fables, mythology are among us who use their creativity to explain the unexplained by filling it with what ever person, place, or event that satisfies that need. Explanations for our fears and anxiety are put in a magical mythical form to amuse and calm our senses. Some even create fear in us to teach us lessons when all else seems good. This, however, is not my intention with this story. I mealy mean to tell you how it was, how it is, and, perhaps, how it will be. Whether it fulfills any of these primordial feelings in you is how much you believe. It starts so long ago in a time of beast gods and magnificent tombs, to the days of pharaoh when myth was realityPeople Who Write Legends7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
The night is black, but not as dark as the tomb the four cloaked figures baring torches approach. As they draw near the entrance of the pyramid they whisper amongst themselves quietly, excitedly, unaware of what they may cause here tonight.