Kakikotoba means "the written word" in Japanese.
This group is dedicated to the written word! Anything related to the written word is accepted here.
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No art submissions, only literature (can contain images).
Anything written is allowed (short stories, longer works, poetry, prose, fan fiction, songs, plays, quotes, etc.)
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Peace RiverA rough-hewn canoe slips through the tannin headwaters
Past groves of tamarack and birch; jumbles of mossy boulders
Also sit along the banks, their angular planes chiseled...
Formed perhaps as God pondered the drift of blue stars across
A black void.
The void drew His eye as the whirlpool draws the soul across the river
To dare its jealousy, following the errant maple leaves
Spinning down, gently in the current:
Sighing as it revolves:
The leaf is watching the sky turn
Field to sky to birch to sky to rock to dark folds enclosing
As the velvet current closes the curtain for good.
the rabbit of greenbriar graveI intend to die underneath his greenbriar thicket,
though I have not made it that far
because I have stopped in a meadow
of birdfoot violets and field pansies,
surrounded by wood sorrels and blackgums.
I left my brother somewhere to fend for himself
higher up this cragged mountain,
near bright laurels and wiry hawthorns,
below hearty Carolina hemlocks and towering pines.
I am followed by the shadow of a man
who bears black gloves and a quiet voice
as he inspects me who lay still
in a stupor of fever and fear.
He places his fingers between my long ears
to bid, on behalf of his yard, a final farewell
to me and to the botfly I shield from nakedness
before vanishing behind white window frames
to watch me pass from this meadow into the next.
My legs carry me to the embrace of the thicket,
where I meet greenbriar for the last time:
I start to bleed with the horizon
as green hues blur with black—
the earth will take me back
to those who have come before
and rest in greenbriar graves.
People say that there is a silver lining to everything
Well that silver lining is disappearing
You have to look much harder for that happiness you seek
Misery is all that is visible
And you’ll have to live with it
Always asking yourself why this happened
Seduction in the Orange Groves
In rows of citrus trees the workers tend
My fam’ly’s enterprise a century.
Among Valencia where I would fend,
And since I came of age they all could see—
The girl-turned-woman child is like an orange,
With flesh as smooth & scented of its bloom.
Don’t ever taste the skin of burnished orb;
Must leave the tree, deny of its perfume.
They also knew the foreman had his sight
To pluck the succulent from off the tree.
He could not reckon such a dare would bite,
How willingly to tempt the Fates was he.
Yet to his nerve & swagger I was drawn
In spite the station of my pedigree.
And so it was one day at break of dawn
We met beneath the tree he knew I’d be.
The heavy-lidded eyes’ belie intent,
My efforts hew much closer to the source.
To find his poverty from words’ infest,
Lest oft’ I may betray a truer course.
It cannot liken to his wax & wane,
Of what is ripe in needful harvest tryst.
In twilight chill, the smudge pots in the rain,
Dark glittering eyes watched me from across the street, and I looked back.
It was a bizarre experience.
This man was staring at me with his eyes, partially covered by his hair that was as dark as his eyes were.
I didn’t see any malice in his gaze
It was possible that he was just watching something
Or maybe he was someone shy
I wave at him
He looks at me for a second and leaves
I am still not suspicious
Maybe he was shyer than I thought
I decide to go back to my coffee
Before I can get too enthralled in the images on my phone, I hear a scream coming from in front of me.
When I look up, I see that same man from a short time ago holding another woman in a headlock with a knife held to her throat
I’m sitting still
I’m too shocked to move
That could’ve been me
If I hadn’t noticed him, he would’ve had me as a hostage
When I look back up, I see the man subdued
He was in handcuffs and being escorted off the property
I couldn’t bring myse
Ladder MatchLadder Match
“Uhhh…Brian, is there anything I can say that’ll make you see that this is a REALLY bad idea?” a blonde haired man wearing a hoodie yelled at his friend, who was climbing up a giant ladder.
“No there isn’t, Jack. CZW is coming to New Jersey next week, and I want to make sure that they see what I can do!” Brian said, looking down at the table he placed at the bottom of the house.
“You’re going to kill yourself, and won’t live to see CZW,” Jack countered. Brian rolled his eyes and scoffed while preparing to dive.
“You’re just being a buzz kill. If those guys can do it, why can’t I?” Brian asked, with his hands on his hips.
“Well for one thing, those guys have more training than just watching hardcore matches on TV,” Jack once again countered. His words fell upon deaf ears, as Brian took his shirt off, and walked closer to the edge of the roof.
The Unexpected ProposalAn Unexpected Proposal
A man in a dark blue suit, a red tie, and glasses was walking on the beach with a woman, who was in a red dress, and had her hair up in a ponytail. The waves were coming up and down, but not too much, as the water only barely made contact with their feet. They had just left a boardwalk seafood restaurant, and decided to take a walk on the beach before heading back to their home.
The woman was looking at the man she was walking with intently. One could see this as a girlfriend looking at her boyfriend with the loving look that one would expect. However, there was something behind the look that one would have to be very close to notice. In her eyes was a look of expectation, and almost impatience, as if she was waiting for something to happen. Before the woman could say anything, the man stopped and turned around.
“Angela, I know that we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I really wanted to tell you this,” the man said, sweating
Royal Academy EP7Royal Academy 為生学園
Episode 7 – Fire & Ice
The student council chambers were silent. The twilight of dawn cast a blue gloom over Isei. Sarako Himise stood in the dimly lit room knowing she had arrived at school early enough to not be interrupted by anyone else. She stood behind the council president’s desk, tapping her foot, arms crossed with her back facing the door. She didn’t like to be kept waiting; perhaps this was well known because the door to the council room opened as she finished her thought.
Sarako turned around to see a man of average height. He had dark, slightly curly hair pulled into a small, low ponytail. His face had the shadow of scruff and there were dark circles under his eyes as if he didn’t sleep much. Despit
Royal Academy EP6Royal Academy 為生学園
Episode 6 – Rush Week
The window was rolled down just enough for the lens of the camera to get a good shot of the gates. The car was black and nondescript with tinted windows, parked just outside the manor. The house was traditional, everything from bonsai trees, stone gardens, sliding doors and tatami flooring. It looked just as expensive as it probably was. Tall walls hid the inner grounds of the manor, allowing only its brown roof and the tops of hedges and trees to show. He snapped a few pictures of the outside, just for reference, and waited. It was morning, and the birds sang while the morning sun dried the early dew.
A car pulled up. It was dark blue and polished. It only took a few minutes for the black gates to final
Death and Life by VoodooIt was a bright, sunny day in Jacksonville, Florida. Just outside of the city, a small group of college students was taking a stroll on a trail through a forest. Then they decided to get closer to a stream just by the trail. There were a bunch of neat-looking plants by the stream the students wanted to check out. They were studying biology, and even though it was summer vacation the students wanted to continue studying plants and animals in their spare time.
All was going well, until one of the college students, Rick Thompson, slipped and fell into the stream. “Woo, way to go Rick!” cried out his friends; Sally Smith, Brian O’Reilly, and Ellen Mullins.
“Very funny!” Rick said sarcastically. Then he called out, “Could you come down here? I think I found something!”
Since it was a hot summer day, his pals didn’t mind climbing down into the stream too. They felt around under the water where Rick landed. “I guess you did discover someth
Affection of a Ghost In a dull, lonesome graveyard there dwelled a young ghost named Todd. He had been a ghost for several years. He envied the living; however he did not frighten or harm them in any way. Todd merely yearned to be among the living again. In a cottage right next to the graveyard, hidden by the thick trees, weeds, and bushes, lived Vincent, a mysterious warlock. Todd knew it was very well possible Vincent could make him alive again, but he was too scared to ask. What if Vincent had a cold personality, or just simply wouldn’t do it?
One day a young girl and her parents moved into a big house not very far from the graveyard. Of course Todd was curious to see them. He saw the family moving their belongings into their new home, and before long they got settled in. Todd noticed the girl, and started having a crush on her. After she and her parents got settled in, Todd went by their home one day, and noti
Letters to Marileen | 3 ~ Your Friend, the Reaper Three days after her initial arrival, Marileen tended toward bounding around the house in an attempt to hang out with both of her roommates at the same time. She talked quickly and couldn't sit still, leaving Handwing in a dizzied, tired state. He often felt the urge to nap after his interactions with her. What really irked him, though, was she always seemed to get into his stash. He tried to talk to Vilkas about it and was met with a response that infuriated him.
“Uh, they’re technically mine,” he’d said matter-of-factly, “you used my money to buy them.”
Vilkas was just lucky he had a point, and that Handwing’s arm was still broken. He had to clench his fists and grit his teeth to stop himself from punching Vilkas right in the jaw. But it wasn’t the only thing that infuriated him…
“Hi Codry, how are you?”
Silence in the White Noise(A couch is centered in the room, a table with neat clutter such as books, notepads, etc is in front of the couch. There is a desk on the left side with a computer, beside that desk are multiple milk crates filled with radios. Everything in the room is of neutral tones besides a bright red radio on a lone side table. ENTERS RADIO, he wears bright colours that do not match and clearly clash with each other. Patterns are acceptable replacements. RADIO turns on the radio to a low, static filled tune that fades out and becomes a background noise. RADIO begins dancing.)
RADIO: (dances to static tune)
ELIZA: (ENTERS) Can you turn that down a little Radio? I’m trying to write an essay.
RADIO: Oh, okay.
(ELIZA EXITS. RADIO goes to the milk crates and begins to pull out more radios. He turns each one on, volume a little louder for each radio. He dances
Treadmill(A couch is centered in the room, a table with neat clutter such as books, notepads, etc is in front of the couch. There is a desk on the left side with a computer. Everything in the room is of neutral tones besides a bright red radio on a lone side table, this radio quietly plays a static-y tune. ELIZA sits on the couch, reading, also wearing neutral colours. ENTERS RADIO, he wears bright colours that do not need to match and clearly clash, stands behind the couch with his back turned to audience and ELIZA. There is no eye contact between the two.)
ELIZA: Hm? (continues reading)
RADIO: Listen, I um..I um wanted ta like say I’m sorry.
ELIZA: It’s fine Radio.
RADIO: Well, I don’t really honestly think tha
I'll Stick to RadiosOkay. So I realize that old, busted radios aren’t cool. They just aren’t man. They’re broken pieces of junk. And you know what. I’m okay with that. They’re ratty, broken, dusty, dirty, and boring. AND NONE OF ‘EM EVER FUCKING WORK……sorry. Anyways. Anyways, anyways. Radios. Back to radios. Always broken, always malfunctioning. Always a hunk of shit in the corner of your basement or attic or outside on your lawn rusting away and goddamnit are they ever fucking broken.
But I. I love ‘em. I have hundreds of ‘em. Stored properly! On tables. On shelves. Never on the ground. I’ve got big ones and little ones and ones that work less than others. But that’s okay, because I can fix ‘em. I reach inside their shells and take all the wires out and replace ‘em and clean the insides and add new things and old things and un-rusted things to make ‘em work. I make ‘em real. I let ‘em breathe. I let
Wanna Kiss?Wanna Kiss?
“Hey hey, Kim!” Madison exclaimed, surprising Kim enough to fall out of her chair. Kim sprang back up, glaring at her best friend.
“Madison, I know we’re best friends and all, but you have to stop trying to give me a heart attack,” Kim said, with Madison still smiling at Kim’s glaring face.
“Sorry about that Kim, but I wanted to ask you a question,” Madison said.
“Alright, so what do you want to ask?” Kim asked.
“Do you wanna Kiss?” Madison asked, showing off a hand full of Hershey’s Kisses.
“Sure, I love Kisses,” Kim answered, attempting to grab a few. However before she could, Madison moved her hand and gave Kim a kiss on the cheek. Kim’s face completely flushed with a blush, and Madison put the handful of Kisses in Kim’s right hand.
“I hope you enjoy the kiss, Kim,” Madison said with a wink before skipping off to another part of the classroom. While Ki
Back to the Past (Chapter 1)Back to the Past
Shoto Todoroki had no idea why he was even bothering with this. He hated his classmate, Katsuki Bakugo. Bakugo reminded him of his own father, and that was not a good comparison. In Todoroki’s eyes, Bakugo and his father were both power hungry people who only care about themselves and will hurt anyone to get their way. Todoroki was invited to the library by Bakugo to have a talk, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he had accepted the offer. He remembered the conversation he and Bakugo had just before their class officially ended.
Flashback (20 minutes earlier)…
“Hey, Icy-Hot,” Bakugo said, getting Todoroki’s attention.
“What do you want?” Todoroki asked, annoyed by someone like Bakugo talking to him. Bakugo looked right and left before getting in Todoroki’s ear.
“I heard that you wanted to know more about my past and my relationship with Deku. Meet me at the library in 20 minutes and I’ll
Sick DaySick Day
“ACHOO!” Mei Hatsume sneezed, with Recovery Girl looking at a thermometer that was in her mouth only one second ago.
“Well the good news is that your temperature has gone down considerably since yesterday. The bad news is that I’m going to keep you here for the rest of the day,” Recovery Girl stated, shocking Hatsume.
“Why?! You said that I could leave once I got better, and *ACHOO* I feel better,” Hatsume yelled, or tried to yell, as her throat was still in too much pain for her to raise her voice.
“Well, you still have a few symptoms. Plus, it is possible for your cold to have receded in your body, and the slightest bit of stress could make the cold come back and even worse,” Recovery Girl explained, causing Mei to sink back into the hospital bed with disappointment all over her face.
“Ugh, this sucks. I hate not being able to do anything,” Mei mumbled before she sneezed again. Hatsume sighed, and broug
The Unpleasant TruthThe Unpleasant Truth
Akihito Kanbara was walking up the stairs of the apartment complex that housed his not so secret crush, Mirai Kuriyama. In his hands were some takeout boxes from a local restaurant. If he knew Mirai (and he did, very well), she was probably low on money, and therefore low on food. So, he decided to stop by and see Mirai and have some lunch with her. Once Akihito got to the door, he knocked several times, and waited for a response. A few seconds later, Mirai came to the door. She looked at Akihito for a few more seconds before responding.
“How unpleasant,” Mirai mumbled. Akihito responded by showing her the takeout bags.
“Hi Kuriyama, I thought you might want to have some lunch…with me,” Akihito said nervously, being stared at by what he called his bespectacled beauty. Mirai looked at him and the food and turned around in a huff with her arms crossed.
“Senpai, I do not need you to buy me food! In fact, just last night, I de
kill me with wordsIf you took a needle, pushed it into my skin and
watched me bleed,
If I told you it hurt, does that make me a liar?
When words fall from your lips and stick to me like thorns,
why is it my job to pull them free and tend to the wounds?
You put them there in the first place, but that doesn't matter.
If I wear my pain on my face, you roll your eyes and say,
"Oh, it's not so bad. Stop being so dramatic."
I hate that word.
I hate it for its glibness, the blithe dismissal that I am merely an act,
a pantomime to be mocked and forgotten within mere moments.
As if my own heart is nothing to be taken seriously.
"You're being oversensitive."
It's easy for you to say that, isn't it?
Because nobody ever sees the damage that words can do.
There are no bruises to flower on my skin, dark and wide just beneath the surface.
You cannot hear the crack of bone as my body bears the brunt of some heavy impact.
Instead, there is a gradual change.
Something in you freezes over time. Wha
Open: English Tutoring, Editing, Proofreading
English Tutoring for Reading and Writing (or subjects written in English)
I would like to tutor people online who have trouble with English writing, reading, or speaking, or think their child needs additional help. Sharing my passion for English and reading has always been a dream of mine from when I was a child.
What you are looking for:
✧ English writing and reading comprehension
✧ Speaking English
✧ Homework help in understanding English terms, vocabulary, phrases, spelling, grammar, and/or punctuation for assignments that use English (meaning history or science is acceptable for corrections or explanations about language)
✧ High School basic Spanish help?
How my schedule looks:
✧ I have one full time job and another coming soon.
✧ I am
Open: Writing Commissions
Update: I will now accept commissions for personal or online professional blog posts, articles, essays, email marketing letters, or any kind of website content for your personal or business use. Price rates will be gauged by word count or work required, whatever we agree on. This update is to give me formal writing experience, and I would prefer if you will allow me to use them as samples in my job portfolio/writing work. I can provide samples if necessary. Also, if you are from a company and need a quick, private/semi-private commission, I will accept your order as well.
I do not have a recent blog post, but you may use this bulletin or the tutoring journal posted above as a reference of how I write a professional marketing post for myself. It also includes my character biographies/profiles if you are curious.
Drowning Sirens: Chapter One
Chapter One: Voyeurism
"How many kids do you have?"
A voice crowed from across a large maroon fence separating all the neighborhood's front yards. Deanna Finnegan accidentally dropped the large box marked "breakable" and cringed at the sound of shattering dinner plates. She clenched her fists nervously and caught the eyes of her disapproving stepmother in her peripheral vision.
"Just pick it up, Deanna." The immediate Mrs. Finnegan ordered, raising her tone at the end of the sentence to intensify her disdain. Deanna scowled and watched curiously as her father crept towards the large fence until he came face to face, so to speak, with a large, gray eye. He knocked on the wood which caused the voyeur to turn away.
Deanna followed her father to the end of the fence and listened as the new neighbors made their introductions. "Hi, my name's Liam Finnegan, and this is my daughter, Deanna." Deanna nodded politely, grateful to be out of her stepmother's line of vision.
Drowning Sirens: Prologue
Prologue: A picture is worth a thousand words...
Just off the Gulf of Mexico Mrs. Waverly was peeling the skin from a boiled shrimp she had bought at the market that morning. The steam had begun to rise in her quaint kitchen and she had raised all of her windows to thin the air. The smells of the sea rushed into her house, mixing with the hydrangeas and lavender she had planted outside.
She inhaled deeply and strolled into the living room, wiping her hands on a damp rag. Mrs. Waverly stopped just in front of the bay window facing the ocean basin. Off in the distance she could see the docks and a few fishing boats barely returning from their day's work. She pressed her fingertips against the glass and smiled warmly as the small heads of her children bobbed across a hill of murky white sand.
Mrs. Waverly waved to them generously as they held up their toy buckets in triumph. The face of her eight year-old son was smug and confident while her four-year old daughter's was f
Conversations "Do you think I'll ever get good enough," I whisper in the dark.
"I don't know. It depends.. How hard are you willing to try, how far are you wiling to go ? To what heights will you climb?"
"...there's just so much to explore.. I don't know if I can ever even find it all."
"It's not finding it all, seeing it all, or knowing it all that counts. It's the thrill of finding it.
It's the hidden feeling you hear in a word. The secret crevice so unexplored by society. Be the one to search it out. Find it's hidden meanings. It's waiting for you, to make it your own. So step up, claim it. It's your right. It's anybody's right willing to try hard enough. Be different; be yourself."
Taking the first step of my journey, I toggled out. Sure I was a little unconfident, but I was going. That's what counts.
Soavist Quote: Internal TimebombAs ourselves, only we have the true power to disable our personal explosives. Sadly only too late do we realise this, so when one (another person) wishes to attempt such a feat- allow them. No, they may not have attained the true means to diffuse you, but neither do you more often than not. Even you alone do all this for temporary measures with shoddy tools- you know not how to utilise; for they are yourself.
Someone will too possess these shoddy tools and lack of experience, but just because you cannot does not mean they cannot. It is greatly astonishing to see how observing from differing points of view, frequently gives one an alternate perspective, and so a, perhaps not the, means to do the seemingly unexpectedly impossible.
ECSTATIC (feat. Ecstasy*)There comes a time
When lovers are just friends without a means.
It’s not too long
Before you find romance is just a scene.
Becomes a fact that steals all your dreams.
And then they die
When you believe there’s nothing in between...
You make me ecstatic —
Even when I’m feelin’ sad
Just because I know the truth.
You got me ecstatic —
Desperation setting in,
Has no bite without a tooth.
You spell out ecstatic —
In the dictionary there’s
A picture just like you.
I feel you, ecstatic —
Taking over me and there’s
Just nothing I can do...
There comes a time
When lovers are just friends without a means.
Why People Hate Rainbow Poniesor
In Defense of the Word 'Cringey'
This isn't a contradiction of the popular argument against bullying individual artists. It's an elaboration on why the issue is more complicated.
Let's get passed the "live and let live" formalities, and admit some people have negative opinions. Not everybody agrees certain types of art are harmless. This is an explanation of why the sides exist, so we can get to the root of the matter and admit it's not about rainbow ponies. I don't support attacking individuals. I do support posting general criticism against specific trends or tropes. I believe in objectivity.
This is a war of personal philosophies, not a debate over rainbow pony pictures. If you're baffled as to why people attack the symptoms, it's because there's a deeper cause.
Everything is drawn for a reason. A drawing might be harmless itself but come from a bad or destructive mindset. A picture of a penguin is harmless. If you beat up your brother
Es war ein unruhiger Schlaf in dem er sich befand. Der Krieg mit den Russen. Der Krieg, der nur eines vertuschen sollte. Nicht nur vor den Menschen. Nein, vor allen. Und er war dahinter gekommen. Man hatte ihn Verräter genannt. Ja, es stimmte, er hatte seinen Meister stürzen wollen, doch er hätte nie gedacht, dass er den Spieß umdrehen würde. Dass er es sein würde, den man jagte. Dabei war er doch immer so vorsichtig gewesen. Nie hatte er sich eine Blöße gegeben. Doch nun war alles verloren. Seine Ambitionen, die Bruderschaft zu beherrschen, waren dahin. Nach all den Jahren der Intrigen. Nach all den Jahren, in denen er Pläne geschmiedet hatte. Nach all den Jahren, in denen er seinen Häschern entkommen war. Alles war verloren. Und nun lag er da. In ewige Dunkelheit gehüllt. Er erinnerte sich an alles. An die Falle. Daran, wie er zurückgelassen worden war, damit die Sonne ihn tötete. Genau auf dieselbe Weise, durch die sei
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