Writer's OathAs a writer, I swear on my word and my honor to do my best,Writer's Oath2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
To always strive for the unobtainable;
To not only reach for, but to walk among the stars;
To never lose the awe and wonderment of life,
And to see the world, if only for a moment, with the simple faith and wonder of a child;
To kindle the flame of imagination within the hearts of all whom I come into contact with;
To never scoff at the whimsical;
To keep a hearty belief in dragons and fairies burning strong in my heart;
To believe that giants can be slain, and evils vanquished;
To not merely search for a hero in dark times, but to seek to be one;
To look ever to my friends for inspiration, and also to seek to be that inspiring light;
To remember that the darkest hour of night is when the promise of coming dawn is the brightest;
To stand up for truth and right, regarding not the opposition;
To be ever open to new possibilities,
And yet to always say what must be said in the way it ought to be said;
To remember that the pen is
love is coming home--i don't write about God.love is coming home--4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i don't write about God because it's writing about love, it's writing about faith, it's writing about trust and hope and belief and pain, the kind of gut-wrenching betrayal you feel when you've given up and you're waiting for someone to save you, only nobody ever does.
and who else are you going to blame?
it's easy to write about a God you don't believe in. it's easy to pour out all your hate and anger and hurt and deepest, darkest broken fears and fling them from your fingertips and scream, this is not God! it's easy to believe in nothing.
it's not easy to believe.
believing is opening yourself to the pain. it's letting go and falling back with your eyes closed, your heart in your throat because you can't see whether there's anyone waiting to catch you. and what if you hit the ground? what if there are no hands waiting to embrace you? what if there's nobody waiting at the beginning, when you finally turn around ready to try again; what if there's
Black DogBlack Dog2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Life not as death but unlife as night is to the summer of the soul/ of a man. Warm breath gone cold, forced to shrivel into a snarl. My prism of thought an artifice of oblivion; a black hole at the heart of every inner sentence, internal monologues disintegrate in hatred, fear and pain. That anguish strains the skin I'm in; a rack of carnal torture, the tearing of tissues, of my self. I claw at my face in torpor; guilt; convulsions of angst, ripping fibres of rage, self consuming self, the gift of life a collapsed imploding star, light so bright it becomes blindingly black.
Time drags, numbs –stops? –my body breaks down into components; part in sleep part in motion. In the darkness of the room a part of me stirs not in body but in spirit, the form of flickering shades deep in the pitch black congeal and rise, with nightmares for blood and malaise for bones, the skin is a rough coarse hide clothed in the bestial furs of a desperate greed; a hunger to fill the void that has formed it. It
Breaking Into Writing[Intended for beginners, although this may be of use to those with more experience, simply because I've seen even experienced people fall into some of the following traps.]Breaking Into Writing2 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
In the Beginning...
When I first began writing stories, I was probably somewhere between twelve and thirteen years old - that's roughly six years ago. I didn't have any experience beyond what little I'd learnt in primary school (and the small amount of high school I'd so far attended), and to be honest I had no idea what I was doing. If I were to look back on that work today I would cringe... nausea isn't entirely out of the question, either.
But that's the first piece of advice I can offer you; the more you vehemently hate your previous work in comparison to what you're writing currently, the better. Don't ever beat yourself up because you think your old work is horrible, because it actually means you're improving. Depending on the person - and how much you commit yourself to practi
Beautifully Flawed Wild AnimalsAs a child I was kicked by a horseBeautifully Flawed Wild Animals2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
While approaching from behind
It knocked me clean across the stable
This fragile framed boy of nine
I tried so hard to be strong and brave
And as Mother wiped my tears away
All I could think was I must return
To the stable the very next day
I barely slept a wink that night
For thinking about the steed
And how the doctor said I‘d be dead
If hoof had hit below my knee
Running my hand over the horseshoe
That was bruised onto my thigh
I felt a very real connection
Between the animal and I
Mother woke me as dawn broke
Asked if I still wanted to go
To visit the scene of the crime
To visit my equus foe
I nodded bravely and forced a smile
And with that we were on our way
I recognised the farmers son
I recognised the bales of hay
And there he was right in front of me
He seemed bigger than before
But there was no fear in my heart
Just a sense of wonder and awe
The farmers son took me by the hand
And as he tended to its mane
He fed the horse a sugar cube
001. beginnings.Beginnings are vague things. Quite often you can't pin them down to one event you have to trawl back further and further through foggy past, peeling apart what ifs and untangling strands of memories.001. beginnings.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Eventually one has to go all the way back to the start of the universe, and that's a question even the experts have to shrug their shoulders at. It's not like you can plug it into a calculator and come out with a balanced algorithm. At least, not yet.
But it is true that sometimes you can fasten down an occurrence or a moment or even just a single breath, like sticking a thumbtack through a dead butterfly, and label it as a 'beginning' in your mind. Identifying that one moment makes us feel secure, like maybe it was destined to happen instead of just being a random sequence of events that fed off each other and tripped over each other and eventually fell like dominoes to the unlikely conclusion.
Cvusscha Mistbane has pinned down a moment. Of course she knows that there are plenty of
The Reaper's LootOf war, of war this day I write,The Reaper's Loot2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Of battle and blood that is shed in the night,
Of cries and screams of blood and pain,
I wish this night to become day's light.
The pain, the pain of the killing pursuit,
The scars etched upon berserker brutes,
The hate and fear of fire and lead,
I see the fruit of the reaper's loot.
Oh fire, oh fire and destruction's start,
Oh copper and lead seeking the foes' hearts,
Oh flesh and bone you sought to rend,
And as their souls depart,
The devil sees your new art.
Clannad - Snowfield ENGLISHClannad - Snowfield ENGLISH5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
On the water's surface, the shadows reflect back.
The color of the sky is pure.
The atmosphere trembles
Until the silence ends.
The white scenery, the memory of ages ago-
But there is only now.
The number of prayers keep adding up
And the tilting world shines. (1)
One Dose Of GlitterOne dose of glitter can light up the worldOne Dose Of Glitter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One little thought can bring back little girls
Fairies and dragons and strong, worthy knights
One dose of glitter can shine through the night
Hush, little girl, for the stars in the sky
Shining so sweetly like your stunning eyes
Don't let the nightmares define what you'll be
Notice the beauty within every dream
Hush, little girl, there is no need to fight…
One dose of glitter to light up the night. <3
the god memorandumthe god memorandum10 years ago in Open More Like This
I hear your cry.
It passes through the darkness, filters through the clouds, mingles with starlight, and finds its way to my heart on the path of a sunbeam.
I have anguished over the cry of a hare choked in the noose of a snare, a sparrow tumbled from the nest of its mother, a child thrashing helplessly in a pond, and a son shredding his blood on a cross.
Know that I hear you, also. Be at peace. Be calm.
I bring thee relief for your sorrow for I know its cause ... and its cure.
You weep for all your childhood dreams that have vanished with the years.
You weep for all your self-esteem that has been corrupted by failure.
You weep for all your potential that has been bartered for security.
You weep for all your talent that has been wasted through misuse.
You look upon yourself with disgrace and you turn in terror from the image you see in the pool. Who is this mockery of humanity staring back at you with bloodless eyes of shame?
Angel!NetherlandsxReaderAngel!NetherlandsxReaderAngel!NetherlandsxReader2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, even though you knew you would give in and turn around. It wasn't a fake feeling, one you got when alone or in a new unfamiliar place. Although at times the feeling was uncomfortable, you always knew that when you looked back he would be there.
Grabbing the handle of the bathroom door you turned and narrowed your eyes at the figure behind you. Olive green eyes glared back, the owner's permanent scowl gracing his face.
"Can I at least use the bathroom without you following me?"
He paused, then sat on the floor, arms crossed over his well built chest. You turned and entered the room, closing the door behind you. Leaning against the door you sighed and rubbed your forehead.
How had this happened? No, wrong question, you remembered exactly how he came to follow you. So why you? No, once again as soon as you asked that question, the answer appeared in your mind.
AmericaxReader 'Attacked'There you were, sitting in the corner of your bedroom, trying to keep yourself busy. If you could just find something to get your mind off of it.AmericaxReader 'Attacked'2 years ago in Romance More Like This
'Damn it...' you cursed yourself for allowing it to enter your mind again. You were now shaking fiercely, as you grabbed whatever was next to you in hope for some kind of comfort. You now held a bandana in your hand and began twisting, tying and fidgeting with it to keep your hands busy. While doing so, you began chanting "nothing bad is going to happen" over and over again in your head. You knew that it was true, but even still you couldn't help but be afraid. What made it worse was that you knew there was no reason to be afraid. So there you sat, trying to occupy your mind with whatever things that are around you.
Suddenly, your cellphone rang, making you jump slightly and putting you even more on edge. You stared at the cellular device for a moment and debated whether or not you should pick it up,
I'm Not...I'm not mean.I'm Not...2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
But that doesn't mean I don't get angry or annoyed.
I'm not stupid.
Bu that doesn't mean I'm any wiser than you.
I'm not sociable.
That doesn't mean I don't like to make new friends.
I'm not popular.
That doesn't mean I'm lower than you.
I'm not crazy.
What you see is me teasing my friends.
I'm not illiterate.
That doesn't mean I don't get lazy and just don't WANT to read.
I'm not perfect.
That doesn't mean anybody IS.
I'm not straightforward.
That doesn't mean I don't speak my mind once in a while.
I'm not a partier.
That doesn't mean I don't like parties, or that I'm uptight.
I'm not an artist.
That doesn't mean I don't like to draw.
I'm not a delinquent.
That doesn't mean I don't break the rules once in a while.
I'm not a musician.
That doesn't mean I don't like music.
I'm not religious.
That doesn't mean I don't go to church.
I'm not you.
No one can be you, or replace you.
What you see is what you get.
Death Takes Two SugarsDeath knocked on the doorDeath Takes Two Sugars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.
He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.
He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.
The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.
The tale of the man who was meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.
Death pushed in his chair and declared,
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.
‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
Whiskey Laden DreamsBitter eyes and tears might taint a drink, but sitting in this bar alone with your stool pulled out next to me, and the Martini poured regardless of your presence still brings a smile to my face; despite the taste. I'm having a whiskey myself; dry. Yes, I know I don't drink, but every once in a while you need whiskey to solve an intricate problem, and mine is the distinct lack of alcohol in my life.Whiskey Laden Dreams3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There are people everywhere and it amazes me how none of them are you, from the woman in the black dress coming down the stairs to the signing couple in the corner, laughing silently. They're not you at all, and that's what's amazing in an ocean of coal you're a marble pebble, smooth to the touch and pleasant to the eye, and you don't leave me scarred.
I'll kick back the tumbler for now, refilling your drink when necessary, despite you never having it. The waitress will look at me with tired eyes and concerned words, but I'll insist I'm drinking with a friend, whilst that sad g
Top 50 Batman Quotes50.I believe in Jim Gordon. I believe in Harvey Dent. I believe in Gotham City.Top 50 Batman Quotes5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
49.I made a promise on the grave of my parents that I would rid this city of the evil that took their lives. By day, I am Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist. At night, criminals, a cowardly and superstitious lot, call me... Batman.
48.You and I... with what we do... what's at stake... we can't fail. Others don't understand, but even if it's... impossible, we still have to succeed.
47.Your life could end here, now, and nobody would ever know. Would anyone even miss you? Tell me, what's your life worth, punk... ?
46.I've known Commissioner Jim Gordon for more years than I'd care to admit. During that time a friendship has grown that I thought was as solid as a rock. I would have trusted my life to the man.
45.You can never escape me. Bullets don't harm me. Nothing harms me. But I know pain. I know pain. Sometimes I share it. With someone like you
44.My life has been a crusade to save this city. But as Ba
EnglandxReader HurtingEnglandxReader Hurting2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
You picked up the match box, your hands trembling. Pulling out a match you stared down at the box at your feet.
It was filled to the brim with pictures. Pictures of you laughing, smiling with a man you no longer loved.
You flicked the match against the box, staring for a moment at the flame that appeared. Nudging the box further into the fireplace, you flicked the match in.
The pictures slowly burned, the gray smoke looking as heavy as your heart felt. Well, how it used to feel, now you were numb to emotion.
You lit another match, running the tips of your fingers through the flame.
"Love! I'm home!"
You flicked that match into the fireplace. His voice used to make your spirits lift, have you running for the door.
"Love?" He peeked his head into the living room and grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry I was late again. My job, you know how it is."
You nodded, not bothering to get up. He sat next to you, loosening his tie.
England X Spy!Reader P2England X Spy!Reader P22 years ago in Settings More Like This
You arrived at your destination, even if it did take you a little longer than expected. You just couldn't shake the image of that blond brit You had bumped into, he didn't seem all to happy about dropping his work, from past experiences anyone else would have shouted at you and told you to watch where you were going but not him. Was everyone here like that, or is he one of those rare few?
You shook your head for the tenth time so you could focus on the job at hand. You were standing in front of what seemed like any other grand bulding in this city, big and looked like it was made of stone. The sandy coloured stone seeming to be a brighter yellow colour than what it would be later on.
Your mission was to infiltrate this place without being spotted and get to some computer with top secret files on the weaponry. The reason the goverment had put these files in the capital city right where everyone could simply enough get in was because it isn't where anyone wanting to obtai
SorrowbirdI watched him flap helplessly between the teeth of a barbwire fence, screeching for help.Sorrowbird2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Papa, look Papa! A boy!"
My papa stood dazed for a moment, dust billowing at his legs, his eyes teetering along the field. It wasn't until later that evening he told me he hadn't understood what I had seen. What he had seen.
With grass tickling the backsides of my legs, I bounded toward the boy, "What are you doing? Are you okay?"
As I approached him, I felt his skittish eyes rake across my every movement. With his ten-year-old arms slung inside the gaping maw of a fence and darkened feathers pasted along the creases of his face; he looked squarely at me. I could hear his bird-bones quaking at my voice, he pushed harder against the fence. I winced for him.
"Hold still, we'll get you out," I turned back to my papa who stood alongside the road, "Papa," I pleaded, "Please! Help him!"
Reaching out, I touched his shoulder, "Don't be afraid. We're going to help you."
He didn't pull away from me. I thou
Spike the 'Hero'Spike the 'Hero'2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
*********[A/N] If you like this, be sure to check it out on FIMFiction http://www.fimfiction.net/story/63702/Spike-the-%26quot%3BHero%26quot%3B
Like and favorite it there if you have an account as well. (always trying to get featured)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy *******
Spike the "Hero"
The Crystal Empire was slowly becoming engulfed in a mass of threatening, black clouds; dark as the deadliest of storms. Screams could be heard all around as the crystal ponies began to panic. Up in the tallest tower in the city, Twilight found herself trapped within the confines of a black-crystal prison, the gems risen up from the ground, blocking any means of escape for the lavender unicorn. Just outside, Spike started to feel nervous. His eyes darted from side to side, his feet moved up and down like two, small pistons.
Twilight started to scramble within the crystal-walled trap, looking for the Crystal Heart with a set of panicked eyes.
"The heart? Where's the Crystal..." she started, voice q
Algen (Arctic) BioAlgen (Arctic) Bio3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Name: Álgen Weiss
Physical/human age: 30 years
Birthday: February 27th
Body Type/Structure: Athletic, slim, sturdy, felxible, quite strong
Skin Tone: Pale
Eye Colour: Ice Blue
CLOTHING: Long black coat, black boots, black jeans, white polar bear scarf (with a polar bear hood) and black fingerless gloves
When the continent was young in its icy state Álgen had a very solitary life as there weren't many people around to talk to, but slowly and surely, nations started to crop up. She got to know many of the ancient nations and became less anti-social. However after the second ice age and the ice of the Arctic began to melt again Álgen was walking over it and it gave way under her. She was then frozen for almost a million years. When she thawed out she found the world had changed
Locked Up With LokiLocked Up With Loki1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
The door leading to the cell where Loki was kept opened, and two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents came in, escorting a young woman. Loki watched, intrigued to see this girl, for she was hardly more than that, being brought here. She looked to be maybe nineteen, and more than likely did not work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Not that Loki doubted the organization having such young recruits, but this girl watched the two guards with a special hatred in her eyes. It was one that could not be imitated, even by the best of actors.
Loki remained standing near the “bed” of his cell as the door slid open and the girl was rather forcefully pushed in. She stumbled a bit as her foot caught on the last step, and fell to her knees in the cell. The door slid closed behind her and the guards walked away silently. She was alone with Loki.
The girl kept her head down, her dark, messy hair covering most of her face. She stayed still and silent.
Loki was genuinely curious to know why this girl had been