Tap, tap, tap.
Tap. Click, click.
Tap, tap, click, click.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, click.
"That won't help."
She leaned against the door-frame, a variance of colours following in her wake.
I sighed. Slouching, shuffling to the side a little. "I know." I pushed the mouse away.
She hummed, stepping into the room, taking in the stark white colour, papers scattered around, sketches half-done. A single notepad on the pale desk.
The colours around her seemed dull for a moment. Vanished altogether, eyes downcast, while open. "Here." Her hand reached into her pocket, reappearing with a pen and butterfly pin.
I took the pen.
"Humph." She took another step, and turned my face. "You're wearing this whether you like it or not, and you know perfectly well why." She swivelled my chair around.
I didn't fight it.
Only stared blankly at the mirrored image of the room. A slight prickling sensation, at the base of my neck, transformed,
Doyle's CuriosityDoyle had never seen or touched a dollar bill.Doyle's Curiosity2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Of course, he had heard about what was called now as physical moneybut it was only in the context of "It's a good thing that we all got rid of physical money a long time ago. It's really less hassle!"
Doyle was used to the concept of EC. After all, it was all he had known, and he had possessed an EC card since he was eight years old. That was the age the government gave children EC cards, and parents were required to place an allowance (however meager they wished) into the card.
EC, or electronic currency for short, was adopted by the United States and most European countries before Doyle was born, and even before his parent's time. The switch to EC had been done rather quickly, by an exective order by the president of the day, so he had heard. There had been government sponsored bonfires of paper money, and most coinage was seized by federal officials and melted into ore. That was all Doyle had heard about the transfer to EC. Most p
StormsShe was reluctantly letting herself be dragged up the path, snowflakes whipping against her as she failed to realise she wasn't actually feeling cold in any way. Desperately, she wanted to ask where on earth her childhood friend was taking her, and that, within two minutes of meeting again after years.Storms11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her hand had been latched onto when she was standing in the village, quite a trek away now that they had been stomping upwards for so long. She remembered how she had felt afraid of the strange way the inhabitants had been staring at her, all too ready to condemn her for what she was, and as she felt the same cold-fear sweep through her bones, her dazed eyes focused on the small tent, slowly becoming more visible through the blizzard.
Reaching the tent she felt her hand set free from the one she once referred to as a boy, and didn't hesitate in taking a step back from him, gently massaging where he had held over the aching bone.
She suddenly became aware of her dry throat, her
2. ClockYour hand curls around your waist.2. Clock2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Waist-length hair spilling over your shoulders.
Water seems to be pooling on the floor.
It's flowing from your eyes.
Her eyes were wide, clutching the book in her hands, she stumbled back. "Hello."
She offered a hand.
He took it, smiling gently.
A moment later, he let go, and she stood. Content.
She shook her head.
He leaned to the right slightly, gazing past her shoulder. "We'll see."
A slight frown appeared, as she tightened her hold on the book. She made to walk past him with an inaudible sigh.
"I see your "Butterfly" is back."
"I guess you're taking it a step further then."
She held her pause for another moment, turned around. "...Yes. I'm not entirely sure it's by choice, at this point."
"... will I still exist... once this is over?"
DestructHer aorta ensnaredDestruct1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
by vines, her capillaries
shrivelling, as flowers
drink up life-energy. Her
nervous system a cave full
of shipwrecks, and her bones
crumbling, like the walls
of a once ancient tomb.
She has to wonder,
SilenceSnap.Silence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The thread tightens around her wrist.
Snatching up her skin.
The thread stretches in to the ceiling.
Holding up the arms of a soul long past.
A thread so small, so weak.
Holding the weight of a boulder refusing to float.
Her eyes travel up to the lone window,
A gentle sunlight flittering through.
Her tears have dried.
Locked in a room for a small eternity.
A white dress.
Once an epitome of kindness,
Singed with the remains of a burning desire.
A desire to feel.
A desire to win.
A soul no longer retained,
In that tiny little body.
It gazes into the eyes of herself, trying to get back in.
FearShe remembered, that she had been sitting quietly in the balcony, looking out at the town. Small, cosy, and warm. That was how she had felt.Fear1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She dislodged the errant thought, as shadowed cloaks made their way towards her. She sprinted to the front of the statue, stationed in front of the large spiralling staircase.
With a pause, her determination not faltering for a second, she leapt out again, as she took steps backwards, finally using the gun in her hands.
Later, she wouldn't be able to remember, the sheer number of them she had shot, how many times, it felt as though, someone was resurrecting five more for every one she put down.
A haze was falling.
As she brought destruction down on another two, the hall remained empty, but she knew, from the sounds she could hear of robotic arms, that the time she had was very little. She grabbed onto the nearest ledge and hauled her weight over the barrier, running to one of the guard rooms as she remained crouched. A brief momen
DifferentiateAnd she-Differentiate2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
No, that's not right ... try again.
The pen rolled around in her palm, she-
....no. Not like that either, hold on.
She faced another, the realisation dawni-
This is ridiculous.
There wasn't anything I could do, not at that moment.
So I dropped the pen.
Turning around, all too satisfied to see the darkened sky outside my window.
I turned the lights off.
In the safety of my room, no words from anyone else, no distractions, nothing but the papers, pens, pencils, colouring tools, scattered all over my desk.
Slivers of the recent past, playing out in the light of the moon.
Regrets, and thoughts,
that were, less than uplifting,
and yet, gave the knowledge I needed,
to understand, to feel, to know.
The night was always something better appreciated in the darkness.
Ink and ToolsIt spreads like wildfire.Ink and Tools2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The colour fleeing.
You press down harder.
The colour travels.
You wonder why.
There's nothing there.
But the remnants of ink.
On a paper to be filled.
You wonder why.
There's so much more to that one colour.
You test it.
An irreversible space.
An irreversible time.
And a smile graces your lips.
As you gentle your grip.
And the flow slows.
You don't mind really.
There's just so much more to be done.
The Letter WriterHe was a letter writer.The Letter Writer2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Written letters had long become a thing of the pastafter all, why would one write when one could receive instant gratification through an electronic device? All of these things made life so much easier.
In fact, Alan lived in a time where most people didn't know how to write. Everyone was proficient in reading, of courseafter all, one had to read the daily screen to know the news and things that were going on. And all children learned how to type before they were five years old. But writing was not something that was used anymore, and it had become almost socially unacceptable to write anything. It wasn't against the law, but it certainly was frowned upon.
But Alan wrote anyway. The gift of handwriting and penmanship had been taught to him from his father, and his father and his father before him. At the time of his great grandfather, being unable to write had been considered illiterate. Pens and pencils, which had literally become obsolete, were ver
Dreams: My First PoemHer small handsDreams: My First Poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wrapped around the bars so tighly
She stares out into the sky
stars shimmering so brightly
She dreams of life
of freedom and happiness
She dreams of hope
of a future and prosperity
Dreams of adventure
of other worlds and people
Dreams of him
her unnamed knight
She ignores the truth
Of the world and agony
She ignores her fingers
freezing to the metal
She ignores the fact her dreams are not reality
NostalgiaI'd say you have a flawless mind at its finest,Nostalgia2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But then I remember you don't have a heart in the slightest.
Those sleepless nights and morning excitement,
With them combined were our lovely messages sent.
You stole my heart and took my breath away,
Upon thinking of us together is when my mind would sway.
I gave you me, my soul, my heart, and my happiness; you had it all in your hands,
And then the tables turned, time changed; and it all became a gamble to have it all.
The messages stopped the way they were,
Within days, I found myself fragile, broken, upon the concrete floor.
I don't blame you, I don't blame you, I don't blame you,
Neither do I regret the moments spent together.
I wish you had told me the truth so that I knew,
But you hid it all; you played my heart ...
Without those intentions, and hurt my soul.
And now, I am stuck while the world is too busy in its own hole.
Candles and LightersShe couldn't focus on the page in front of her, the tears threatening to fall from her eyes stopped her sight. She held back a whimper, refusing to let the people around her see the pain she felt. Her eyes tried to slide toward the desk to her left but she wouldn't let them. Yet somehow, like always they ended up over there anyways.Candles and Lighters2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A tear fell from her eyes even as she tried to blink it away. His last sketch still graced the tabletop the fanciful creature staring at her with wide, innocent eyes. Her strength failed her; she stood, her movements harsh, and rushed out the room. A classroom of eyes followed her exit.
She dashed from the brick building, sprinting to her truck and climbing into the front seat. She allowed her head to rest on the steering wheel, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Blonde hair fell down her back in waves, her cerulean eyes usually gleamed in the sunlight, and her skin was normally a rosy peach; yet, at that moment, she had never felt more useless, un
The Last LetterColin,The Last Letter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know you need space, but I want you to know some things. I don't regret a single day I spent with you. I am so lucky to have had the chance to spend part of life with you. You were my best friend and boyfriend. I couldn't have asked for anything more. You taught me so much about life, love, music, friendship and countless other things.
I completely redefined my idea of love because of you. I believe that what we had was real. It didn't last but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. I hope you feel the same way. I know you won't be open with me like we used to be, but I hope that if you are ever in need of a friend you know you can come to me. I still care.
I know you no longer love me, but I hope I will always hold a special place in your heart. When you think of something we did together, I hope you smile. I will always love you and cherish every memory. Someday, the pain will stop, I'll move on and maybe love again. But you will always be my first and I hope you will
Jealousy Is Like PoisonIt's a curious thing jealousy.Jealousy Is Like Poison2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
What happens to oneself when consumed by it?
It turns long time friends against each other and spreads like wildfire until it drives people to madness.
It plants the seeds of bitterness that over time
strangling it with it's wicked vines that have sprung up from the words of hate.
Jealousy, can make even the prettiest of people ugly;
it can darken the lightest of souls.
One must be sure of themselves and be comfortable in their own skin,
only then, will the thorn of jealously
and it's venomous effects ricochet like the rays of the moon unto a lake.
There is no sure way to simply defeat jealousy, and there is no cure. But one can and should be aware
Death by Conversation The ground is truly beautiful today. The dirt is a lovely, rich brown color. It's not quite muddy but a little damp and sprinkled in fine powder. There are some musty, rotting leaves, littered across the ground like no one cares for them. No one probably does. They are limp like corpses. You can't forget about those pretty little ants though. They track with heavy crumbs on their backs, spinning circles. Beautiful isn't it? So I might as well just keep staring at that loathsome ground and hope he doesn't come over to talk to me. But, of course I'm not that lucky am I? Oh no. Of course he's coming to talk to me. These ants are really fascinating today. Really interesting. More interesting that his face, which I refuse to look at as I have done since I met him.Death by Conversation2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Hi? What a great start. Really, I can't come up with any
I broke up with Coldplay last night.Not because it wasn't cordial or anything no I loved the stuff for a good long while I mean that concert was nice I've got the wristband to prove it only it doesn't glow much now and the thing is I just don'tI broke up with Coldplay last night.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yeah I know a lot of people say that and it's mainly just a good excuse for sleazy men in mid-life crises cheating on their wives but I swear I never cheated I just never found the passion but I
that I had.
I've got this stuffed animal on my bed that you didn't even give me but it reminds me of you it's got this bow tie the same shade you wore that one day you accidentally matched my dress and of course it's an elephant and elephants never forget so how come
and I used to see guys in shirts and ties and remember how you always let yours work loose by the end of the day and the top left corner would stick out from under your collar until it almost drove me crazy and I had to fix it for you but now
I just keep
The True Essence of ExistenceWhen I close my eyes I see darkness, but when I open them again I see the world for what it really is, it's true form. You tell me which is worse.The True Essence of Existence2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
People see hope in the world, they see it for a bright and beautiful place, but they have only seen what they want to see. There are those who live in hell and those who live in luxury, the people who live in luxury still live in hell, but they are blinded. They are indoctrinated to believe the wishes of those with power to be true. They cannot feel the world, they cannot sense it's essence they are fooled by hope and pride, a false claim to mortality by pleasing an imaginary tyrant, who penetrates every aspect of humanity, leaving violated and overwhelming sense of self-loathing.
We allow ourselves to give into this injustice to try and deny the truth, but deep down there is acceptance of melancholy, of pain and pointlessness. Release your true self, your self with anger and pain, with change and metamorphosis, with love and despair. Feel l
Changes "Aaaah, this is the life," I said as I rolled in fresh, pine smelling, clean white clothes.Changes10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
My white-socked paws flailed through the air as my body squirmed. I had virtually no worries to contend too. I had the proverbial life. What does proverbial mean anyway? I pondered the word as I rolled on my stomach. The clothes were still amazing --- tangent. What was I wondering again? Some word? Per, pre --- whatever. My life was great. No fears, no worries, no ...
My black ears twitched as I heard my name. Mistress was calling me? Mistress was calling me! I jumped off the gun cabinet located in the living room. I loved that particular cabinet. It had that oak wood smell to it. Plus, it was a perfect height for a tree-dweller like me. I stretched then jumped from the cabinet to the floor. My paws gave a soft 'thump' as they landed on the wooden floor; however, I didn't make a soun
The Changing NightsDust flew up as Alex's suitcase hit the desert floor, tumbling like the weeds around it. It looked lonely against the iron gates that rose behind where it had been dropped unceremoniously. The squeal of tires reverberated in her ears as the van that had taken her out here drove away, leaving her to fend for herself.. Though, she wasn't quite sure why she was here. The impressive gates that rose before her very obviously belonged to one of the most prestigious Changeling schools in the entire world, one she'd only read about in textbooks. She stood back to admire the Gothic style spires on the buildings and the manicured greenery that had somehow managed to sustain itself smack in the middle of the desert. It looked like an oasis in the middle of the blowing red dust.The Changing Nights2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"I don't suppose you have any clue why we're here?"
Alex turned to look at who had spoken. She hadn't heard the next car pull up, but she could now see it driving away. A girl about her age stood behind her, wav
Beauty is a Love WithheldWhen empty tears cease to welt,Beauty is a Love Withheld2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the underside of love is naught.
The barrens of indifference felt.
Healed the heart no longer wrought.
Thine flower left in dry to wilt.
May I have eyes to watch it die.
Tattered petals turned to silt.
Sent on lightened wings to fly.
And while my shoulder faces west,
thy hands reach out for fingers fated.
To kiss the skin the heart knows best,
and find that warmth hath now been gated.
Beauty is a love withheld,
to fertilize the passion grow.
But mine heart's desire has been felt,
and now it's time to let it go.
I Want To Be An Actress Scene 1SCENE 1: A HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIAI Want To Be An Actress Scene 12 years ago in Drama More Like This
The curtain closes and the scene transitions into a lunchroom cafeteria. Lunch tables are brought on by some high school actors and then sit down. A teenaged ANNA, 16, wearing jeans, sneakers and a plaid shirt, walks out on SL, holding her lunch bag in her hands. She looks around for a spot. She turns to face the audience.
Hi, I’m Anna Torman and that little girl you just saw was me when I was eight years old. My father was killed when I was nine. I was absolutely devastated. I’ve never forgotten about what my father told me and every day I repeat his words through my mind making me feel even more hopeful for my future. I live with my mother still but since the day he died nothing has been the same.
ANNA walks to sit at a table with a few girls. The girls sitting at the table stop their chatter and stare at ANNA. They all get up and leave off SR. ANNA just sighs and continues eating. MR. BRAGSTIEN, the principal, enters SR l
GoldenThe wooden creak and bump of wheels on cobblestone slowed. Benjamin slid open the curtains on the carriage window and sighed. The country house they had pulled up to was completely dark it had the look of an abandoned building.Golden2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Elizabeth had forgotten. Again.
He shouldn't be surprised. None of his friends would be. They all heckled him mercilessly about his parent's choice for his bride. She was unconventional, absentminded, and completely uninterested in royal affairs. But despite her many flaws, he had found himself caring for the woman.
Which, of course, led his friends to tease him all the more.
He pushed himself off the seat with another sigh and stepped out, nodding slightly to the carriage boy who held the door open for him. Raising his voice, he called out into the crisp night air.
"Elizabeth! Hello! Is anyone home?"
A ghostly face appeared in the att
RivuletsThe tome lay abandoned on the cobblestone streets, rain laying waste to its yellowed pages. Scrawled writing bled across the pages, its black ink joining with the rushing waters on their way to the sewer. A heavy boot fell next to the book, the coattails of the figure brushing the flooding lane. He bent to pick the book up, grabbing it with gloved, quick fingers concealing it within the folds of his coat. Sending his surroundings nothing more than a cursory look the man stalked off, soon disappearing into the righteous thunder and harsh rain.Rivulets2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The purges began the day the swaddled bastard became baron. Before that dreadful time, not a soul knew his intentions, carefully kept under lock and key hidden behind a genial facade.
Onyx hair flew behind her shoulders as the horse beneath her galloped past the viridian trees surrounding them. The animal's muscles morphed between her thighs the powerful movements sending a delightful trill through her body as she swayed to t
Living WinterDo you remember what it was like to live in winter? There was no food. There were no clothes. There was no wood to light a fire, no gas, no electricity. All we had was each other. It seems impossible now to imagine how quickly - how savagely - people changed. They started fighting and killing for anything edible. At first, they didn't take their kills with them. That only happened during the last months, especially to the children.Living Winter1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I still can't help shivering when remembering what that time was like. We were scrambling to survive on a piece of half-rotten potato peel a day - not for each of us, but between all of us. You were getting thinner, and weaker, and so was I. The temptation to give in to the madness, to do as anybody else, was getting stronger. Do you remember this? Do you remember any of this?
For me, those memories will always be haunting. The hunger wasn't even the worst. It was to watch how our group slowly lost its grip on sanity. Every day, people would go away. People