In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
We Regret To Inform YouDear Claire,We Regret To Inform You9 months ago in Emotional More Like This
We regret to inform you that as of 10:48, Thursday, 21 of March, your grandmother has passed away.
We regret to inform you that your application to University of Georgia School of Veterinary Science and Medicine has been rejected.
We regret to inform you that everything you've ever loved has slipped through your fingers and there is nothing you can do about it.
We regret to inform you that you are nothing and will never be anything more than a pathetic piece of dust that clings to those who are better than you.
We do not regret to inform you that you are suicidal, depressing, depressive, insane, bipolar, have no friends, and will never ever be anything else.
From the deepest pit of our destroyed, shared soul, l
Bad HabitsS.Bad Habits6 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She always rubs her mouth,
like there’s a secret she can’t say out loud.
Tracing her own lips to prevent a smile, a frown, or a tear.
Sometimes her real smile peeks through, but you can only see it in her squinted almond eyes; dark amber, and soft, just like that bashful grin.
Sometimes a frown shows when no one is looking, followed by a wistful sigh and a simple wipe of the palm across that silent mouth, trying to push the bad feelings and words away.
Sometimes tears roll past her knuckles; she fails to catch them at the source because she’s scared to wipe her eyes raw, so she brushes them away after they’ve fallen in the crook of her pink lips.
She always hides her mouth,
as if she’s afraid to speak.
She never faces you completely,
like you’re not worth her full attention.
Averting her cold gaze, she walks with a haughty, empty stride.
Even when her striking blue eyes are pointed at you, her chin is always tilted up and shoulder
queen of nothing.what I've learned:queen of nothing.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
PorcelainDiane’s hand crashed hard into the porcelain as her knees hit the ground in front of her perfectly white toilet. She had over done it, she realised. She retched again and vomited into the bowl trying not to let the acrid smell fill her lungs because that smell often made her vomit again. She had been feeling rough for a couple of days but had decided to distract herself by cleaning, the kitchen was done but when it came to bleaching the bathroom the enclosed space made the cloying scent had seemed magnified somehow and it had stuck to the back of her throat until she had coughed it out. She was sick.Porcelain7 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was sick and she hated to be sick. She pulled the plastic toilet seat down and rested her arm on it so she could lay her cheek against her wrist. She felt the tears streaking over her hand and it tickled unpleasantly, but she was exhausted from the exertion of being so drastically unwell, so she did not move.
Eventually she knew she would have to get up. Warren would be home soon
Reversed Abduction -Chapter 1- The silver clock hung noisily on the wall, ticking with the sound of a bomb as each second went by. I was impatiently waiting for nine o’clock that evening. The reason? I was practically forced into walking to the mall with my best friend, Lux, and her “boyfriend”, Jack. Jack would repeatedly end their relationship, until he discovered that his good looks weren’t going to get him very far when matched up with his attitude. So, he would beg for Lux to take him back… and Lux, being so in infatuated with him, would agree to the relationship in an instant. Apparently they were back together, and wanted to meet with me at the mall that night. … At nine o’clock… on Sunday.Reversed Abduction -Chapter 1-3 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I turned my head to my mother as she sat on the recliner. Her short, curly blonde hair barely reached her shoulders. She was twirling it with her finger, as if it wasn’t already perfectly shaped and spiraled.
I Am The Mighty!I Am The Mighty:I Am The Mighty!4 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I remember this tale, from a time of brutality; from whence I would have gladly murdered a soul. For the fragile seek to transcend their pain, but ever are they poisoned by it.
This man I remember had called himself ‘Mighty’ and I watched from the stands as he delivered his speech. “You are the fools!” he cried to the audience, “for even as you mock me, I am whole. Through tragedies I've suffered, through pain I persevered. I am a greater man and your words may never hurt me.”
Fool, is what I thought, for he seemed to take pride in this display. The crowd cheered him on, patting him on the back, but to me he lacked conviction. For I saw through the sham in his boast and I knew that his demons would haunt him again. This time a little earlier than needed.
“Yes my friends, I am a damaged man. I have been broken before and my spirit shattered,” he continued to ramble, as I drew close to him.
I'm SickAs I sit in darkness I feel its cold breath within me, burning my insides with its icy fire.I'm Sick8 months ago in Emotional More Like This
It’s not warm like a flame should be. It’s a contradiction. It’s unnatural. It makes me
nervous. It hurts. I trail shaky fingers over my bruised skin—it wants out again.
Unnatural. But really, what is natural? What is the definition of something one might
consider normal? It most certainly cannot be this beast within me. I cannot decipher now
between it and I. We are one yet we are two. Two that sometimes is one and one that
sometimes is two. One. Two. Two. One.
Rage. It’s always there but now it burns cold in the front of my mind as well as the
back. My subconscious is diseased with inhuman instinct and my consciousness is
becoming sick. It’s a plague.
I’ve opened the doors to famine.
InsomniaNow, now, all of you. It’s late.Insomnia8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mind, stop wandering all over creation; you can only juggle so many things at once.
Neck, stop whining; sometimes, life puts us in uncomfortable positions and you just have to accept that.
Nose, I’m worried about you. You’ve been stuffed up and shut off from everything all evening… In the morning, I want you to open up more.
And, you, heart, would do well to be quiet every once in a while; especially at this late hour. No one wants to hear about your newest anime crush at 1:00 am.
Extremities, calm yourselves. Stop all your nervous fidgeting; it’s very distracting. That goes double for you, fingers and legs.
…Are you even listening?
Ugh. Of course not. You can’t be all ears, I suppose…
But honestly... No, stop that! Settle down!
I implore you; no, I’m begging you.
60 Ways to Survive a Horror MovieHow to Survive a Horror Movie60 Ways to Survive a Horror Movie1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
1. Do not have sex. Having sex is basically signing your own death certificate.
2. If you're either blond, big boobed, refuse to wear a bra, or all of the above, you're going to get killed, usually when you're fucking your boyfriend (who will also be killed, might I add.)
3. Never joke around and play pranks, because when you're really in trouble no one will believe you or care.
4. Don't go to the toilet at night, especially if it's an outside one, or if you're wear no or minimal clothes.
5. Same goes for showers, whether they're outside or not. Not only will you be unable to defend yourself, you will also die naked, which can be kinda embarrassing, and awkward for whoever finds you. Besides, who knows what the killer does with the body… *Shudder*
6. If you're running away, which you will be, make sure you're wearing proper shoes. High heels or bare feet usually end up in tears. And blood. A lot of blood.
7. Also, if you're running, never look beh
First Day of School."Miss, miss!"First Day of School.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Sit down Gerald. Waving your hand and jumping around will not make me choose you quicker. Everybody will get a turn. Now, Natalie."
"Stand at the front then. There. Nice big voice."
"whatididonmyholidays by Natalie Marsh. What I did on my holidays we went to the beach it was nice and su....sunny. I had ice cream and I went on a boat. The boat was nice. The sea splashed up and we all got wet. Then there was a shark and it ated us and we all got dead TheEnd."
"Very good Natalie. Well done. And you spoke nice and clearly too, but try to be a bit louder next time. Now who's next? No, Gerald, I will not tell you again. Sit down. Now, Kyle. Your turn."
"What I did on my holidays by Kyle age six. What I did, I went to the zoo. I went... no, wait, I know,
The Day We Died"Oh shit, oh shit! Just what the hell are those things man," yelled private Johnson, as he unloaded just over half his M-4 carbine's clip at the screaming creatures. The bent-limbed horrors were peppered with bullets, but still they continued to crawl toward the soldier and his sergeant; shrieking in a strange unintelligible language. The creatures were by no means fast; they were limited to crawling, but their large bulky arms showed no sign of weakness. It served as both a weapon and a shield, dragging the rest of their thin emaciated body along the floor.The Day We Died3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I suggest you duck for cover Johnson, those things will tear you apart in melee," said first-sergeant Gabriel as he placed a hand on Johnson's shoulder and ushered him behind the blockade of furniture that had been set up. The sergeant pulled the pin on an old frag grenade. One that he had found within a storage box in the facility and he held it tightly in his hands until he was sure of the distance. "
Reversed Abduction -Intro-My breath began to choke me. I sprinted through the thick forest, my hair tangled and my skin covered in blood. Fallen branches scraped at my open wounds as wind howled through the trees. My ripped t-shirt felt like it was suffocating me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t escape. A seemingly invisible tree root tripped me as I tried once again to find a way out of the forest. I landed with a thud in the dirt. In panic, I quickly crawled to a tree and sat, confused and terrified.Reversed Abduction -Intro-3 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
My name is Hazel Moon. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to escape. And I don’t know who he is.
But he’s trying to kill me.
I got up, and suddenly, a hand covered my mouth furiously. I tried to scream, but my body was in such a shock that no sound could come out. I tried to break free, but I couldn’t.
What was happening? My thoughts raced through my mind. I tried to scream again, and finally, I actually made a sound
zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.zero.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one day, and not seeing the edges. Of there being nothing there.
I'm afraid of falling and having nothing to catch me.
There's already nobody. The ground is really all I have.
1. I'm afraid of breaking things.
Like, once, I broke my dad's trust in me.
Once I broke somebody's heart.
Once I broke my kindergarten teacher's favorite
Confession of Betrayal"There was a time when I feared you, avoided you, for what you were - before I knew the person you were. A time, even, when I believed that because of that, you would have to die. That you were evil because of that irrational fear, and that all things 'evil' must be eradicated." She sighed deeply, clutching his hand for support as she spoke the truth that she'd never told him.Confession of Betrayal1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"When you first spoke to me, and I answered, I lied. I was willing to sacrifice my own morals if it meant reaching my goal. Killing you."
He watched her expressionlessly as she confessed what she had meant to tell him long ago, but had never had the chance - or perhaps the courage - to do so.
"And what made you change your mind?"
She blushed and glanced downwards, before continuing. "I-it... Honestly, I don't know. I was..." She mumbled incoherently to herself, and he patiently waited for her to speak up again.
"Every day, I plotted against you, even while I gave you fake smiles and claimed to be some
ShameWater runs clear; stains still here.Shame10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dear Poetry,You will find out that I am not a strong person. Dragons do not make a home beneath my skin to hoard their treasured princesses. I am not that lucky. For I have misplaced collarbones just as quickly as I’ve misplaced hearts, a pulse still rhythmic against my fingertips. I am a monster of words, devouring Cummings and Plath with no ounce of self control left in my body. I promised myself this weight would not fall for the sharp edges of stars ground into your knuckles. But, write air into my lungs, poetry. Give this wild thing a reason to learn the definition of tamed.Dear Poetry,4 months ago in Letters More Like This
Write me a poem, and I will promise to fall in love with you, slowly and then…all at once.
RegretRegret.Regret9 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It seems to be a bit of a big factor in my life right now, both in my own personal life and the life of those close to me.
In fact, it seems a factor in everyone’s lives. It’s almost like, a rite of passage. A test to prove you’re alive.
I’ve definitely had my share of regretful moments (in fact, I’d argue I’ve had more than my fair share). They knock me down a peg, which is good, because I get the feeling if I had much self- worth I would be a bitch . My most humbling experiences come from my love life, however.
Now, before you go thinking this is just another piece of teenage angst where I talk about how poorly I was treated or how poorly I treated my significant others… well it’s not. Truth is we’re both to blame in all cases. They were selfish jerks who were insensitive to my lack of experience in the dating area (and two of them didn’t have much experience themselves), and I suffered from a
Undying LoveShe screams, pain holding her, hands holding her hair and pulling tight, each strand reins to her conscious will. The drugs running through her system become a geas, an imposition stemming from the necessity in her soul.Undying Love8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
The tetter barked and shouted it's way down her arms, her misery congealing in her wrists and at her throat, forming a lump that pressed down weightily on her trachea until clawing a breath in was more effort than she had energy for. She choked on a sob and the angular bite of the sound released some of the tension. She fell.
The beige, tiled floor rose to greet her decrepit, falling form. Undone, as if a string on her soul was pulled, undoing the knot that was -that could've been- her life.
On the ground, she weeps as quiet as her ragged breath – or lack of breathing – and she turns, turns on her swollen elbows, and kicks with her swollen knees, trying to stand. Her head hits the bathtub side, and she sees stars, and darkness, cloud her vision. Her dizzy t
100 Writing Prompts1. The love that you give100 Writing Prompts1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
2. Life is a journey
3. Rustling leaves
4. The clank of glassware
7. When we began
9. Bad Times
10. Doing what has to be done.
12. The stars above
15. Large Shirt
19. Heart Strings
30. Snow Globe
31. Golden Microphone
34. "For as long as you live."
37. Leather Jackets
41. Solar Powered
42. Iron Maidens
43. Bought and Sold
54. Putting it to rest.
55. Look around you.
56. "Still My Guitar Gently Weeps." ~~George Harrison
58. Breaking Down
62. Dance in the rain
63. A Catch-22
66. Fit to be
what they seethe studentwhat they see10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Most people look at him and see a studious young man, dark glasses, diligent eyes; they see crisp uniforms and a practical haircut, shoes polished until they shine. They never see anything else.
They never see the sparkle in those eyes that grow when he speaks of seeing the world; they never understand when he points at a random spot on the map and says, "I want to go there." They never see. They don't want to.
It's not right, maybe, to them. He's a student with dreams that will remain dreams. Nothing more.
Most people look at her and see a small girl with straggly hair and crooked front teeth; they see squinted eyes and a freckled nose, body rail-thin. They never see anything else.
They never see her smile as she looks at a finished graffiti with the word peace scrawled across; they never hear the delight of her laugh when she sees flowers painted on grey streets devoid of plants.
It's not right, maybe, to them. She's a vandal that sp
The PullWhen I was younger, someone showed me a video gametoo weird for me, but it made her laugh, and she was pretty. You played as this little guy with a squishy hammer for a head, and you rolled a sticky ball around in front of you. As you rolled it, things got stuck until the ball was gigantic. And then... I don't know. I don't remember the point of the game, nor do I remember the name.The Pull1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
But that image comes back to me every time I am anxious. I am that little person running around, pushing a ball, and things stick to it. Only they aren't cows or trees or parts of buildings: they are things that make me nervous. The attention of people. My sparse resume. The way I can never look someone in the eye when we first meet.
Oh. And I don't have a squishy hammer for a head.
Regardless, today is like that. I've talked to too many people and some weird man had told me he was my father and my mother was on the back of a book with a different name but the same damn face.
While I was walking home,
Dear Angry PersonIt has come to my attention that youDear Angry Person4 months ago in Letters More Like This
are about as pleasant as a rank plate of lemons jammed down an old lady’s throathave some behavioural problems with regards to your interactions with the community. This is not good for you and for that reason; I hope you will read this letter.
Considering that your actions reflect badly on you as a
walking sack of organic waste that is sucking up our airartist, I thought that I would step in and offer my own take on things. I hope within this letter to assist you in removing the metallic rod you have jammed so far up your posterior!by explaining to you that your behaviour ,which reminded me of a repugnant cat-lady swearing at the kids on her lawn,was improper, considering the circumstances and the alternative.
You see, I too am an individual that has trouble controlling his emotions. I strive very hard not to say what I am truly thinking as more often than not, you