The WriterTo every protagonist- there shall be another to hate them. To be given the task to challenge them at every turn, to love and to loathe, to scar and to torture- and to be the one to destroy them.The Writer2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Writer, with no doubt, was a hero. The kind with ink-black hair and papery skin, with those wise eyes that have seen more than any man. Oh, yes, the Writer stood tall and proud on his throne, surveying the world that he was building, the world he called his own.
The world was peaceful, much yet to be discovered. It had a small population, in fact it had only one. A short, stocky ten year old boy with one green eye and one blue. He roamed the castle- the only thing that existed beside himself.
The entire world gave off an air of thoughtfulness, quiet and content within itself.
That soon changed, with such a rapid pace. The castle was falling, the castle the boy had been in. It crashed under the feet of a beast looking for the Writer.
With large, flared nostrils it sniffed, and its red
The Night She Was Taken To The Monster-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-The Night She Was Taken To The Monster2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Night She Was Taken To The Monster
Josephine A. Mustafa
[based on a true story]
The night of June 13, 2012, was the night everything changed for her. Even though she was two months away from turning 24, she had always been this sweet, innocent, naïve little girl, living in her own perfect little world. Her parents and brother had sheltered her well from such crimes as she would witness this night, perhaps that's why this night was so life-altering and traumatising for her.
It was around sunset that her father took her to see a doctor. He was more of a religious person than a doctor, or so he claimed, but her father trusted him, so she obeyed. She was always a good girl, listening to what her father, mother, or brother told her, so she did not oppose. Regardless, she did cry. She cried all the way as she was taken to see this doctor. She was crying because she knew there was nothing wrong with he
For My Millions Of Questions I Have Not An AnswerWhat would you do if I'd fallen for you?For My Millions Of Questions I Have Not An Answer1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Would you just walk away?
Or would you fall for me too?
What would you do if I'd found someone new?
Would you come after me?
Or would you find another too?
What would you do if I was to cry?
Would you come to my aid?
Or would you give in without try?
What would you do if I would start to doubt you?
Would you rush to reassure me?
Or would you let me believe such things be true?
For all those times you went and walked away,
did you ever once wonder if I'd wanted you to stay?
For all those times that you'd give me but a glance,
did you ever stop to notice how my heart would start to dance?
For all times I'd see you off with someone new,
I could only help but think, "Oh God, this isn't true."
And for all those lonesome moments I'd wish for something new,
I could never stop saying to myself, "Too bad it isn't you."
My heart since that day is but a shattered mess,
I'm wasting away here day by day becoming less and less,
But I have one last question,