The Storyteller.Words burst from my fingertips likeThe Storyteller.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Licks of fire, burning paper
Where they etch and score their
Meanings with absolute passion.
The faint, illusory scent of make-believe
Smoke surrounds me like a shroud:
An ensorcelled cloak, its hem stitched with a
Magical thread that imbues me with the
Power of words, its fabric dyed
Dark, shimmering with shades of ambition.
Creatures of all forms and ages begin to
Flit across my page with alarming clarity.
Voices - strident and shy, tenacious and meek -
All attempt to make their stories heard:
There are adventures to be spun in
Stimulating hues of royal blue and jade;
Romances to be told in the
Swelling notes of a sweet serenade;
Downfalls to be declared by the knell of
Death as he leads a doleful black parade.
Day after day, my Muse leads me from
Forest to meadow to coast to city, opening
Portals through which I can glimpse
Alternate realities and different lands altogether,
That I may understand the
Wonders of wor
Northern Ireland X Male!Reader - We'll Always TrySchool was the place in life which moulded you, it made you who you were going to grow up to be. It’s peculiar, how we barely remember what they teach us in school, but when it comes to the torment and the people who inflict it, we’ve all got an elephant’s memory.Northern Ireland X Male!Reader - We'll Always Try8 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
We’re in the day where being different was frowned upon, where loving another person who is of the same gender as you was forbidden. Only the brave came out, and stayed proud to it. Even a few years forward in time, being different is still slightly frowned upon- but certain things are more accepted.
Sitting in class, chewing the end of your pencil as ideas swam through your head, you became slowly aware of someone watching you. You casually glanced behind your shoulder, your eyes instantly locked with dazzling peridot eyes gazing at you through his ginger hair. He grinned at you, his usual Irish cheekiness shining through as a pale pink tinge tinted his freckled cheeks. You smiled back, grinning when
Pirate!England X Child!Reader - Forever MorePirate!England X Child!Reader - Forever More10 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
The small child’s bare feet padded along the wooden deck of the pirate ship, her destination was already mapped out as she hurried there. She had gotten lost multiple times whilst on board but she had made sure she could get to where she needed to get to, she clutched the small teddy bear to her chest as she rushed to the certain cabin.
When she finally reached the cabin, she knocked lightly on the door. As she expected, there was no answer. She took in a brave breath before proceeding to enter the forbidden cabin, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. There was only a single candle that was burning near the sleeping pirate’s cot, the small child quietly made her way over to the fearsome pirate. As she grew closer, she clutched the teddy bear even tighter as she overlooked the man in slumber. His blonde locks were as messy as always, spilling over his pillow; his piercings shining in the candle light; his lips parted slightly and a small drop of drool started t
Clementine X Male!Reader - We Don't Need You HereClementine X Male!Reader - We Don't Need You Here7 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
Don’t know what’s going on
Don’t know what went wrong
Feels like a hundred years I
Still can’t believe you’re gone
So I’ll stay up all night
With these bloodshot eyes
While these walls surround me with the story of our life
Everything had happened way too fast to fully register what the fuck just went down. Shit hit the fan. Jane had come back to Kenny, Clementine and you in a shivering mess- but without A.J. You held Clementine in your arms as she shivered against you, trying to keep her warm and figure out where A.J was.
“Jane…?” Clementine’s small voice called out, she looked from Kenny to Clementine and you then back to the angered man.
“Where the fuck is A.J?!” He yelled, she recoiled slightly as he got closer.
“I…It was an accident…”
“Accident?! That’s bullshit!” Kenny roared, he pushed Jane against the glass door and you winced as you saw and heard the transpa
Remarksi. I like the way you call meRemarks3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and always hang up on the second ring
because you know I get the shakes and the shivers
and sometimes, but not always, my knees fall off
and I have to crouch down to find them.
ii. I keep thinking about you.
and your ten-thousand tans
and your lack-luster smile
gaping open with colloquialisms.
You and the way you say
"you're pretty and thin"
as if one more label will be the gunshot
and I'll finally escape that dream
in which I'm running, but my feet are melting
through the sidewalk and my arms are
casting impossible shadows.
iii. It reminds me of how inarticulate words are sometimes;
how they flit through me every second and yet
I tend not to write them down around you
because, every time, I wake up and
forget why I am.
How your words mean next-to-nothing to me
because you throw them around
like ping-pong balls, and
I prefer to sip them like sweet tea.
iv. You say things like "I love you" and
it reminds me of how I will never be anyone.
How I me
find me in the hidden life.i have this feeling in my bones that some call weakness and other call fire.find me in the hidden life.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's a driving need and a crippling desire, and it wakes me in the middle of the night with cramping calves and feet running among cotton though they reach nothing but the great beyond of the side of the bed. it's a burning that pushes me into the middle of rainstorms to dance among the cracking weather kissing the earth, and it's a spark lit under the gasoline pooled under my heart. some call me crazy and others call me sane, but if you look for me in the heart of winter, you will often find me curled under the dead oak touching the bark because i like the way life looks when it's hidden.
you'll often find me like this, looking for hidden life and concealed light. sometimes, i will search for under the frozen wrinkles and concrete-frowns of the lonely, and other times i will seek it in the ocean before the storm. i will hunt under the foliage like a hungry wolf, and i will howl at the canopy as i track it dow
CodaSpattered in moonlight, I can taste sunbeams on my tongue: warm, thick, creamy like caramel in coffee.Coda3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Beneath me, the seasons are changing. That little fragile thing within is stirring; she is yawning, stretching, raising herself up like a tattered marionette, all her joints popping and vertebrae realigning. As she dawns, the dust billows and flames reignite; her strings are growing back together, spidering upward with thin, famished fingers. When she dances, the world rewinds to those beautiful moments.
The ghost of a palm burns through to the small of my back, nerve-endings clambering: dripping across my spine like the cold touch of water and ice. His lips graze that hollow place below my ear, sending a shock wave through my system, filling me up with secrets and sparks, gorging me with promises.
I breathe in his vindictive charm, all those capital letters spoken with question marks, the lies twisting to truths. Dreaming nightmares as sweet as sugar-cane, I take his abuse like a sho
Scotland X Reader X 2p!F.A.C.E - Anything?You loved your fiancé, Alistair, more than anything- including his oddball family. You had been with Alistair for years, and even helped him raise his youngest sibling Oliver. Oliver respected you like a second mother and a big sister, and he adored when you visit. You would always love to see him and his family, even if they were a handful at times.Scotland X Reader X 2p!F.A.C.E - Anything?10 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
Since Oliver owned the most successful bakery in town, he insisted on catering for yours and Alistair’s wedding. The Scotsman was...resistant, to visiting his younger sibling and his family- but you would pull him by his ear if you had to. Oliver’s child, Al, always adored when you visited- and even had a small crush on you that his family would always pick fun at him for it. Oliver’s partner’s son, Matthew, enjoyed when you visited too- even if he wasn’t that keen on Alistair tagging along.
When you pulled the car up the drive way of Oliver’s bright home, the front door opened and the cheerfu
1939my skin is colored19393 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the crescent
sometimes i wonder
if maybe my bones
were rolled in ashes
i would be
a more fitting
my hands have
never mimicked the sun
in elliptical shadows, my
chest is not
the dark reminder
of my soul
my skin is silk
and honey, milky lines
crossing the floor
the midnight hands as they drape
over this bed.
The Job Interview "I'm sorry Mr. Kumin, but I simply can't hire you," the doctor said.The Job Interview4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was a little ticked off at this. I knew he needed an assistant and I was more than qualified. "Thank you for your time," I said, holding out my hand. He looked at it like he was discussed at the thought of touching me. I took the hint, nodded curtly and walked out the door. Well, that's another one to scratch off my list.
I walked down to the front desk, leaned on the counter and sighed. "You didn't get it," the receptionist said. Savannah Backer was a tall, African American woman who proudly displayed her black heritage all over her desk. "I'm sorry you didn't, your the most qualified person who's applied, most education, most skill, I'm just wondering why you don't have your own practice by now."
"It's just that I'm a little
tocophobia.the world of pregnancy and childbirthtocophobia.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
has been boiled down to the white,
neurologically healthy babies
in pink and blue knit caps.
“that one,” says the tearful father.
“she’s beautiful,” says the nurse
while the mother rests.
but why is it
that the default image of motherhood
is a white middle-class couple with a picket fence
and a golden retriever?
let’s postpone that cruise to the caribbean
and make a baby.”
what about the prostitutes
who get pregnant?
what about the girls in africa
who carry their rapist’s babies?
what about the babies left on the firehouse steps?
what about the welfare mothers
because they can’t pay the hospital fees?
who have heroin tracks on their arms
(like stitches that can’t hold them together)
where the patient bracelet is snapped on?
what about the 500,000 american children
waiting to get adopted?
what about miscarriages and women
who can never have kids?
we preach for the
How to Make a WorldHow to make a worldHow to Make a World4 years ago in Settings More Like This
Table of Contents:
-Part 1: Home Sweet Home: The basics of you world
-Part 2: Into the Garden of Madness: The Human Psyche
INTRODUCTION! read this!
This is meant to be a general guide on how you can make your own planet/world and what patterns it would input onto its denizens. As well as how you can alter your world history as it goes on. PLEASE NOTE! This guide is going under the assumption that you are making an Earth/Human-like planet, if you're going to do something drastically different DON'T BE ALARMED, many pieces of this guide will still apply but just know where your world would differ from the "standard" set.
Remember, when you know the rules, you will also know how to break them. The point of this guide is not to copy the world history of our own lives but to create a new history unique to the setting which you create BASED on the trends our own species has experienced.
PART 1: Home Sweet Home, The Basics of Your World
This part of
Las Vegas SyndromeLas Vegas Syndrome3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Las Vegas Syndrome
They named the pill Las Vegas, after the new city that never sleeps, despite originating from a Chinese replica developed in New Jersey. Aaron Knight’s grandfather, George Knight Senior, often spoke fondly of a time when LV’s were optional, when people would waste hours every day lying in bed doing nothing. Aaron considered him a Dozer, a pervert. We often excuse the elderly for their eccentricities but Aaron always found it difficult to understand and forgive his grandfather’s obsession with sleeping. George Knight Senior was the last of Aaron’s grandparents, only dying twelve years earlier, at the unusually old age of seventy-two. Aaron was born too late to meet the rest of his forebears, they were merely names rarely recounted in passing conversation however he retained fond memories of George Senior.
Aaron Knight lived in London, which was a drastically different city to the one George Senior recal
Writer's Workshop: Fleshing out CharactersDecember 14th, 2011.Writer's Workshop: Fleshing out Characters3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Fleshing Out Your Characters.
Some people are good at writing people. They have no difficulties conceiving of them and don't balk at doing the legwork involved in writing interesting, well-developed characters. They know what is believable and what isn't, and have some idea of how readers may react to their cast.
Other people seem to have no idea what makes people tick, what makes characters interesting, and hope that piling on enough abilities or cool traits is a workable substitute for character development.
As you might have expected, this ramble is dedicated to not being the latter. Here are some tips and tricks for dealing with the most notorious and noticeable part of your story...the cast.
1. Writing well takes a lot of work. Characters are no exception to this.
Being lazy is the death of decent characterization. In order to write interesting and well-rounded characters, you must be prepared to develop them actively and do any research necessar
Dear DadDear Dad2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dear dad I love you.
Dear dad you were my world, but that world began to change.
Dear dad; why did you hit mom and make me watch?
Dear dad; why did you beat my brother?
Dear dad I will do anything you ask, just show me you can change for the better.
Dear dad; why did you corner me?
Dear dad; why can’t I stop shaking and crying?
Dear dad; why did I believe you could change?
Please someone help me!
schizofriendia"i think i am mad," i whisper in your ear.schizofriendia4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
your ear, there is this beautiful freckle right next to your ear, it's dark and round, a plum-brown mark on the barrier of your skin, your skin that separates me from your muscles, your lungs, your skeleton and your vascular system, your pretty organs.
"why," you exhale, the universe spilling from your breath. the room is so cold; your breath forms a cloud. i watch it dissipate, listening to the quiet grow. the barrier of your skin becomes a glow, a dreamy rendition of skin, suddenly hollow. there are caverns in you, hollows where you should exist, spaces where you should breathe. i open my eyes.
brittle01.brittle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the mirror smiles
as she cracks her teeth
with insults like mints
on a shrivelled tongue:
she is marking out
there's a tape measure
around her waist,
and she doesn't know
where it came from.
the floor creaks under bare
feet her weight must
be rocketing into the sky,
and when the numbers flash
across her eyes,
she pins them with silver
needles to her limp
so that way she'll never
forget if a knife
twists her gut,
if a rational voice speaks
in her ear and begs
her to please,
there are better things in
life, she tells herself
with a light flickering in
her brain, like the warning
sign where the train tracks cross
her days are black and white
because the colour has
been swallowed down the
throat of an illness.
she blends water with sleep
and presents the perfect
combination in cupped hands
as though she
might be applauded.
but no one is there to see
and that is ju
Forgiveness EconomicsGenesisForgiveness Economics3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
But for the small purple stain on its border, the banknote was non-descript.
It had a value but men value things in different ways and by different means. It had a value, but its value is not it's story.
It landed on the church plate face up, coming to rest softly on the flat silver base amongst the loose change like it was tossed to the cloth of a gambling table, soundless but with a small sense of resignation. A man paying for luck, a man asking his God for a favor.
It came from the wallet of a small sad man, who feared the Good Lord daily. The banknote was the weekly price of his penance, the bill of sale for those half-remembered crimes of a misspent youth and other things unmentionable.
The small sad man's hands were fat and white and callouses sat on his thumb and forefingers, the scars of a bank teller, a money counter, a man who knew about value. The hair on his head was grey and his eyes were blue below his wrinkled forehead and tonight would be the last time he
The Ghosts of WordsWords are for menThe Ghosts of Words4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and women's minds will twist them.
They may speak, permission granted,
but the pen in all its might
is for men alone.
She knew better. All around
were women writing letters, books, lives.
Her brothers learned, and she listened.
One or two took pity, taught a, b, c
and she remembered.
And she read in cramped dusty rooms
where father never went.
Writing was next, with some practice.
Page after page of letters until her marks
looked like theirs. Until she truly wrote.
From then on it was all hers,
friends and family, towns and journeys,
words and worlds.
Love and denial and despair mixed in
carefully cramped pages
as she treasured each sheet of clean paper.
She started with herself but why stop?
All around were stories, and she made her own.
Women met their fates, raised their daughters
sighed their last and reached for lovers.
She kept it all to her heart,
all the forbidden signs on pages,
locked in old trunks in old places
But he found them in the end.
de la bellei have been told thatde la belle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my cheeks seem to slender
like the stars.
truth be told i
inhaled until my bones
bloomed through my skin
and i sunk;
licked my kisses chapped
'til they reddened
like the roses;
contracted so i'd esvaniss.
i had once hoped to find
it there, the beauty
but instead i
always found space.
061. Fairy Taleonce upon a time, there was a little summergirl.061. Fairy Tale5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she didn't have a name because she didn't need
one and her world was filled with happily cooing
organs and swallows and swans that swooped a-
round her, butterflies that flew in her sunrise sky.
once upon a time, there was a little autumngirl.
she didn't have a name and pondered why that was,
and her world was filled with beating hearts
Tips and Tricks for Writing a NovelTips and Tricks for Writing a Book:Tips and Tricks for Writing a Novel3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
The number one thing to remember is that nobody can just magically come up with a perfect story, write it down in about 300 pages and send it off for immediate publishing. I cannot think of a single person who has had this happen. Don't get ahead of yourself, and don't set yourself up for disappointment. You should write because you enjoy writing, not because you want your book to make you millions, get on the Best Seller list and end up having it turned into a movie. As astonishing as it may seem, this kind of luck actually rarely happens.
Now that you understand the good reason to write versus the bad reason to write, I can get you started. Writing is a very interesting process. It varies from writer to writer just like any other art form. Some people find it very easy to punch out the first draft of a novel. They get the idea, sit down, type away and the basic draft is finished in about a week. Others take two years or even more just figuring out
11112(if what was lost has now been found111123 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
consider me resurrected
are better left untouched)
Call Me Maybe ParodyCall Me Maybe ParodyCall Me Maybe Parody3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
"Bye Bye Lady"- A.B.
I threw a kid in the well,
Don't ask me, I'll never tell
I turned around as he fell,
And saw you've seen too much
I used that kid for a wish,
Pennies and dimes can't relinquish
I smiled after doing this,
And saw you've seen too much
Your stare was holdin',
Dropped jaw, pale skin was showin'
Cold night, wind was blowin'
Where you think you're going, lady?
Hey, I just met you,
And i am crazy,
But here's my shotgun,
So bye bye lady
I know you saw me,
Thought i was shady,
So here's my shotgun,
So bye bye lady
Hey, I just met you,
And i am crazy,
But here's my shotgun,
So bye bye lady
And all the bystanders,
Try to escape me,
But here's my shotgun
So bye bye lady
You tried the 911 call,
I threw your phone at the wall,
You asked "why must i fall"
I said "you've seen too much"
I kill, and murder and steal
Have a bomb and it's real
Too bad your eyes were peeled
Cuz you've seen too much
Your stare was holdin',
Dropped jaw, pale skin was showin'