Losing steamI am fifteenLosing steam3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but my body and
are not mine.
I have scars on my arms
and memories of dark beauty--
bitter beads of blood
slide the knife
unzip my skin
and step outside--
who would I be
and how would I look?
perhaps I'm hollow?
underneath all this--
I'm not actually real?
maybe I was never here
just a dream
or was it a nightmare?
everybody wants me to
act my age
but I'm fifteen
so God only knows what that means.
not a child
not so innocent
not an adult
still too young.
I have to learn to talk to adults
and make phone calls to strangers
and manage my money
and drive a car.
I have to take care of the twins
teach them and protect them
and still be their friend.
I have to grow up soon
but i don't know if I'm ready...
The Girls My Mama Warned Me About--- FFM Day 3You see, the thing my mama would never understand is that a woman needs to have her friends. I’m not talking about the girls she meets in a book club that she randomly signed up for online, or the ones she calls friends but never sees outside of the breakroom at work. No, I mean real friends. The girls she’ll always surround herself with, like a queen does a court.The Girls My Mama Warned Me About--- FFM Day 31 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I had my girls, and my mama didn’t necessarily approve of them. She thought I partied with them too much, and often told me that I needed to give it a rest. But, these were my girls! My best friends! I don’t think Mama has ever had girls like I did. They’ve never abandoned me, and I could never have dreamt of abandoning them.
My girls were so unique. Each one was as different as the colors of the rainbow. There was Vonda and Teena, the two wild girls I met at a party some time while I w
InvocationSpeak through me, Muse, and sing me the taleInvocation4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of that girl unskilled in the ways of the world--
The intrepid wanderer,
Seeking truth for years on end,
Oblivious to the dynamics around her
As others talk with their eyes and dance with their words.
Many the nights she's lain awake,
Living the hurts of her friends, powerless to help.
Trying to save the world
When she can't even save herself.
She wrote dark storms of words
And ascertained the deceptive nature of journals.
She lied to others and she lied to herself.
She learned that sharp words leave scars,
Struggling each day to open her eyes
And walk toward the light;
Yet despite her best intentions, sometimes she strayed:
But hands were there to guide her back to the path,
And hearts were there to share her pain.
Growing and changing and coming to see
That she didn't have to understand humanity to be human--
She doesn't have to earn love to be loved,
And angels can hide in the oddest of places.
Of these trials and tribulatio
Mimicrymildewed [ghosts]Mimicry3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
haunt the c.r.a.c.k.s in the w do not
l their voices
Mystery: Ch.1( Alfendi Layton x Reader/Lucy Baker)This story takes place in a game called the mystery room, its an app for ios devices (maybe android but idk) Alfendi Layton is proffesor Layton's son and yes Lucy is connected to Luke but I forgot how. Play a bit of the game or some of this might not make sense.Mystery: Ch.1( Alfendi Layton x Reader/Lucy Baker)2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You ran into work. You were late, extremely late. The Prof might be mad, and you certainly don't want that. His Jekyll-and-Hyde moments were frightening, you had gotten used to them,but they were still frightening. You walked in and didn't see him. "Oh good. He isn't here yet." you took in a breath and sat down. You opened your deviantart and selected a random fanfic from your stacks when a voice startled you, "Quite the contrary Lucy." the Prof stood up, from the looks of it he had simply been leaning on the wall right by your seat. You squeaked,you had been quite taken aback . You heard the Prof chuckle. His name was Alfendi Layton, one of the greatest detectives in the industry. And you were Lucy Baker, his assistant that ha
Lucidall this time she's seemed so nearLucid3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
her angel face you hold so dear
she'll find you in that darkest time
her eyes will speak sans reason, rhyme
in time you will remember things
of birds and bones and broken wings
of deadly secrets, shattered dreams
things left unsaid and silent screams
with open heart and open mind
stand in the rain and you will find
that healing lies in these things true
and to remember changes you
False laborI cannot remember the beginning of the labor and I find it hard to believe that I will ever see the end. The contractions are ruthless and turn me inside out against my will. My plea for an epidural goes unanswered, and after a few hours, I'm so exhausted that I find it hard to care anymore.False labor3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I have never known this kind of pain before, this agony deep inside of me, tearing at my belly, sinking its claws into my spine. It tries to crawl up my throat, but I choke back the scream.
Nine months of waiting, nine months of anxiety, culminating in a few hours of sheer terror. I am clenching someone's hand tightly, too tightly, but this transference of pain does nothing to lessen my own.
I do not cry until they lay her on my chest. Looking at her, I forget to breathe. Destructive as I am, it seems highly implausible that I made this mewling scrap of life. I can't believe she's here.
And then, just when I reach for her, my baby dissolves like smoke on the wind, and I am left with empty hands and
Runaway Rogues The BeganingRunaway Rogues The Beganing4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One day Protonjon was walking down the street with all his swag when he saw acopy of super maryo world in th streets. Seeing the gam mad him angry and rage angry faecs so he shoot it with a riffle and the mayor carytrdge blow up into flamming debris.
"Yay I love explosions" said Protonjon who smiled and looked at the sky which was not sunny but raining and ligtening instead but jon didn't care. But suddenly someone in the streets saw Jon and yelld "Oh I think I know you! You are that angry mushroom guy on the internets!" "Damn straihgt" said Jon and they both laughted. But then from the sky in polo shirt came down chuggaconroy who was wearing polo shirt red and striped.
"why do you wear those stupid shirts" said jon whose face was full of angry again. "because polo shirts is full of magic" said chugaa whowas also wearing big sombrero. "oh my god it's the chugster!" said the strainger man. "yes I am fantabus" said chuuga who is name emilie in wolrd outside internet .
So then emille jon
Safeshe tells me that they stole her wordsSafe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
marked them in red and wrung them out dry
leaving her shockingly [bare]
so she took up her -sharpest- pen
and she c a r v e d out her words
[close to her heart they'll be safe]
Sans regrets: Part II"I miss you."Sans regrets: Part II3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Message not sent.
Save the Wammys-L's Rescue"Get in. Talk to Rem. Talk to L. Get out. Simple as that," said a quite nervous Lonnie to herself. She repeated that phrase over and over again as she walked towards the massive sky-scraper where L was conducting the Kira case with some used-to-be task force members and some others.Save the Wammys-L's Rescue5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She walked down a long sidewalk, and then turned a corner. She kept her hands in her pocket as she walked along. She looked up at the cloudy sky. It was so dark; it looked as if a tornado was going to touch down.
The day itself was a pretty breezy day. Lonnie easily got cold, so she wore a light blue fleece sweater over her T-shirt with the "Pixie Sticks" logo in it. But, she was more chilled about the fact that she was about to come face to face with a real live shinigami.
Lonnie then sped up at the thought. Her small knapsack hit the back of her legs. She wanted to get this over with and she wanted to get back home. To her own time. (Hint
Sans regrets"I love you."Sans regrets3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Message not received
Catch me if you canI’m the anorexic at the local gym whom everybody watches but nobody looks at.Catch me if you can3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I’m the bulimic at school whom everybody pretends not to know about.
I’m the girl in your gym class with too many scars to be telling the truth.
I’m the kid with her head down in the library who is always “fine.”
I’m the boy who 'fell down the stairs'...again.
I’m the child who doesn't show up for school lunch because it's too expensive.
I’m the teenager living a double life in front of your very eyes.
Catch me if you can.
Writing AdviceThe key to building suspense isWriting Advice3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
CrowBarGot hammered.CrowBar3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Sound of TypingHe was an artist, once.The Sound of Typing4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
FisticuffsCall me odd?Fisticuffs3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Now we're even.
A Mortal's Love TriangleLoved by Life; betrothed to DeathA Mortal's Love Triangle3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The First TrialEmaciated, exhausted, cold. The Light Train had sucked the energy from her, leaving her nearly helpless to find her way... She found her way to the Arena. Where life is sustained and lost all at once. She knows this and little more.The First Trial4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The clutches of death disappear as soon as she's plugged in. She's receiving a large dose of Cell Regenerators and Adrenaline. Some other drug she can't name quenches her thirst and dulls her hunger. She's made it. The First Trial. The plug in the base of her spine is administering the chemicals she needs to thrive any further. She places her hands against the force-field barrier and looks out into the arena.
There are ten other girls. Each is numbered. One to Eleven. Never twelve. She almost feels like she should know why, but the memory escapes her. She is number 11.
She gasps, the plug retracts, she stands pulling down her shirt. With a hiss an energy suit begins to cover her. Like latex, it clings to her. She knows what will happen now. The count