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4:29am Feb 24 2014 (last edited on 4:29am Feb 24 2014)
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Normal User
Posts: 284
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Erm. So, I figure I might as well post something. ;^^ I'm in the adult category even though this was written when I was a teenager, and it's a poem called "Love Sick" which was also on my DA.
You called me an angel though you were no saint, But I didn't see it until it was too late. My heart was aflutter and I was naive, I couldn't imagine why I'd want to leave.
It started out simple, with a few rude remarks, But you'd never imagine that the pain was so sharp. I tried to ignore it and give you a chance, There was a price to be paid, I thought, for romance.
I was still thinking that our love was so strong. But the day that you hit me I saw something wrong. Of course it stung, but the hurt was more deep, And that night I began to weep and to weep.
Because roses are red but blood is too, And life sure can hurt when love is untrue. You said that you loved me and that was a lie, If this is what love is then I'd rather die. |
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4:32am Feb 24 2014
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Posts: 381
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Man that was deep o:
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10:56am Feb 24 2014
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Posts: 1,100
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ikr octo. That was brilliant glados.
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6:33pm Mar 1 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 272
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I think I'm going to Join. Not really a writing person, I'm more of a painting person, but i'll give it a shot. Wish me luck =^.^=
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1:35am Mar 2 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 272
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(Adult Category) i call this Some Little Story it's a rescreatu based story about my absolute favorite creatu species.
This is only a dream...This is only a dream. . .This is only a dream...
Then why am I here? Why is this place so real? How did I get here?
"Oy! did you hear that?" says a gruff voice outside of this thing...By the way, what am I in?
I push on the interior of my container. It's hard plastic, erm, I think. It smells like cardboard though, what is cardboard anyway? I knock on the shell, it's not that thick. I kick hard. Well at least I can get out, but what is this? "Oy, Sherli, we have an escapee!" Oh boy, I better crack this thing open fast.
I push my other leg out and run, straight into another shell. It breaks like glass and falls to my feet. The other shell was spoiled and withered. "Hey little one! We don't want to hurt you, look, we have all your brothers and sisters here too!"
I don't look, I keep running. I don't know where I am or where I'm going, but it's away from them. Who ever they are. There's got to be a way out, anyway.
I see a fence with some boxes stacked in front of it. I jump on the boxes and stumble, I try again. I've made it over the first box and I hear a loud bang behind me, when I turn and look, I see a massive net drop just behind my...tail? I have a tail? What? What is that for? No matter, I have to keep moving. I make it up over the fence and land on the other side with an awful thump. There's no way they're getting me now! I dare a peek behind me, and I'm clear. I can slow down now, whew, so out of breath. I'm so small, those massive things almost crushed me with their net! My tail, i suppose, almost got caught!
I begin to walk around a corner expecting them to be there, but it was full of open forest and a lot of water. I wonder through the forest for what seems like hours and then I see another one of those things, but this one's a lot quieter. i try to speak to the thing, "What are you?" I ask, but all that comes out is this very non threatening, Meow? Well I got the things attention. Now what do I do?
The thing has on all these dark colors, it reminds me of being in that shell, I start to get scared. I find myself immoble. I can't move, please just go away, I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry. Again all that came out was a little Meow. The thing gets closer and closer. I cover my eyes with my...paws? Great another surprise, I have paws...and CLAWS! I have a weapon! The Thing gets closer and I growl this tiny insignificant growl... and as a last ditch effort I reach out with my claws and slash, and miss. The Thing...giggles at me. Fine, fine, I've made a clown of myself. What do you want?
The Thing reaches out and pats my head. That felt fine. Ok then, I shall allow you to, pet me. The Thing's hands reach out and thumb my ears and run down my back and I found myself, making a sound more pitiful than the growl. I think it was a...a purr. "Lonely creatu, will you come with me?" said the Thing as it held out its arms. This it sounded like a he. "It's ok, I have more of your kind at my home on Scria. I have a massive yard filled with others as well." Meow is all I could say. The man took me to his home. And there is where a new story begins.
-AlexMassecre-
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3:23am Mar 3 2014 (last edited on 3:32am Mar 3 2014)
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Normal User
Posts: 2
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Hey guys, this is an excerpt from the novel I'm working on currently. I'll probably edit this and add to it all the way up until the deadline, so just keep in mind that this is a work in progress. :) If you want to know the synopsis of the novel, scroll down to the bottom of the post; if not, start reading and see if it piques your curiosity! Hope you guys like it. Oh, and this is for the teenage category (I'll be seventeen in May). It's also been edited for language -- yeeeeah, I need to pull back on the inappropriate words, I guess. Let me know if this breaks any of the rules...? I'm not 100% sure.
Edit: I copied this from Word and I have no idea how to fix the weird formatting. Help?
----- One, peel off tape. It sticks to the skin of her stomach, pulling
it away from the thin la
yer of fat underneath before letting it snap back into
place.
Two, lay out supplies. Clean towels and extra tape sit on the edge
of the grime-coated sink, the only corner wiped clean and dimly glowing a shade
of off-white. Retrieve alcohol from lockbox.
It’s running low again, make a note to drop by the store and see if
they’ve restocked yet. It’s been at
least a month since the last time they did, and it was three weeks between
restockings the time before. It used to
be only one week. She couldn’t know for
sure, but people who’d been alive before it happened said stores used to
restock nearly daily. It seems
impossible, but she still nods and smiles at the story when old Hannah tells
it, though she’s told it so many times it runs together like watercolor.
Three, remove gauze. Be careful here; can’t risk another split. She grips the edge of the gauze between two
fingers and carefully, slowly tugs it outwards, peeling it gently away. The first color she sees is a yellow-green
spread under her olive skin, like ink bleeding outwards. A centimeter more, and black paints the edge
where her skin has parted. The black
fades into dark brown and angry red, then stops abruptly to accommodate patches
of light yellow, almost white. She
grunts, fist landing heavily on the other corner of the sink, the dirty one – open
hand gripping the clean porcelain edge opposite as the towels and tape clatter
to the ground – and lets herself breathe for a minute, shoulders hunched. She should’ve done it yesterday, or the day
before. Maybe then she would’ve been
able to catch it before it festered again.
Breathe. Her fingers tighten and relax, and the
feeling of her jagged nails and the cold porcelain pressing into the calloused
skin of her palms helps center her. She
couldn’t have done it sooner. Yesterday
she was working, and Tuesday she was in town interviewing for the collection
job.
Scavenging for old
goods wasn’t exactly appealing to her, but they needed the money. Lord knows prices aren’t falling, and if she
finds an old TV or tablet she can feed Sem and herself for at least three
months.
From the front
door comes the metallic rattle of a key in the lock. After a split second she straightens, releasing
her grip on the sink and pressing the gauze back down with one hand. She contemplates picking up the fallen
supplies, but she can’t bring herself to move.
She can only stare herself down in the mirror and listen as Semira moves
through the small apartment, dirty glasses clicking as she picks them up,
carries them to the sink, and sets her canvas bag down on the kitchen
counter. A few dull thuds follow. Cans set down inside the creaky cabinets,
cereal boxes packed into alcoves.
“Rey?” Sem’s voice
carries through the apartment. Footsteps
move through the kitchen as she calls.
“Rehabot?”
Rey blinks,
breaking her focus on the mirror. She
wets her lips and takes a short breath.
She can’t seem to answer, so she takes another harsh breath and tries
again, the dry air nearly burning her throat.
“I’m in here.”
The footsteps
hesitate, then take a sharp turn and continue.
Sem walks to the door like she’s about to kick it in, then stops and
softly turns the handle, pushing the door open.
Her dark eyes flicker around the room, lingering briefly on the
overturned towels before settling on the edge of gauze peeking out between
Rey’s thumb and the hem of her pushed-up tank top. Her eyebrows pull together for a split
second, and she tries to hide the grind of her teeth as she pushes the door
shut. She knows. Sem is going to
kill her, maybe. At least she won’t die
like Rotten Russom did.
Sem pushes the
hair back from her face and pinches the bridge of her nose between two
fingers. Her other hand lands firmly on
her hip. Oh, yes, she knows. Rey’s
gaze slides to the faucet, wondering when the rust will start to erode it
instead of just decorating its dirty surface with orange splotches. She wonders how much a new faucet would cost,
or if she could even find someone who was selling them. Probably, if she hitched a ride to Albuquerque. If she called up Isaac and wore her other
tank top, the one that was a size too small.
His truck could get her there in three days, max, and he didn’t take
much convincing. “Rey.” Darn. Semira
wasn’t going to wait any longer, then, was she? ----- Synopsis: Fragile tells the story of a rehabilitated world, one without aging or premature death. One where some people, if they can pay off the right officials, live up to two centuries. One where wounds that would have formerly resulted in death end up being rather harmless. Or rather, it should have ended up that way. Instead, wounds refuse to heal. Bruises become as permanent as tattoos, and large cuts need constant care. Even then, you're fine -- as long as you don't get infected. And when alcohol and bandages inch closer to the black market every day, it gets harder and harder to keep up with the struggling of one's own cells. Rehabot and Semira are two hard-working sisters trying to make their own way in the dirty outskirts of Dallas. The last thing they need in their crumbling lives is news of someone who could set the power balance of their damaged nation tumbling into chaos.
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11:10am Mar 5 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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bump
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2:33pm Mar 7 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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bump
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4:06pm Mar 7 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 498
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Since I couldn't find where I put my book that has all of my already started stories, I had to come up with this on the spot. I know this one isn't all that good X3 It'll be better when I copy and edit it and refine it....
"Shazi, Mana!" (main character) yelled, calling for her two beloved pets. "I need your help!" Just as she said that, a dark mist formed behind the her from which two large black dogs appeared and walked to stand on either side of her. "There is a demon hiding somewhere in this house, flush him out and rip him to shreds." She said loud enough for the two to hear and as they ran to hunt it down she yelled after them "Show him no mercy! We will show him how powerful we really are!" As they hunted for the demon, she walked around the house searching for herself to see if there were any other creatures lingering she should be aware of. Starting with the living room, she entered and looked around, sensing nothing she turned to leave. As she faced the doorway she saw Mana carrying a much younger hellhound, she walked over to them and Mana dropped the hellhound to the floor. She sent Mana to finish the hunt for the demon still in hiding while she knelt down to talk to the hellhound.
"Poor thing" She said, petting it on it's head. "Why don't you come and join us? The other two are my pets, the one you met was Mana and Shazi is around here somewhere."
The hellhound laying on the floor growled at her, but continued to allow her to pet it. "You belong to the demon don't you?" She asked it. "Are there any others?" Just as she said that, a blood curdling yell was heard. Both her and the hellhound she was petting rushed to the basement to find the demon holding its arm. "Good job guys!" She shouted in joy.
"That's not gonna be enough to win against me" (bad demon guy) said. As he said that he raised his arm and snapped his fingers, and the hellhound she was petting rushed to its owner's side as another hound appeared on his other side. "I guess it's just you and me as they fight it out." She said with a satisfied smirk. "Don't worry, I'll take you quickly" (bad demon guy) said. "Here is where 7 years as a shrine priestess in Japan pays off." She said, sounding very hopeful.
Enter smart/witty signature here!
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6:30pm Mar 7 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 934
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8:08am Mar 9 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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Are you going to post something merlin?
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3:21pm Mar 14 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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bump
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2:11pm Mar 18 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 20
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This is in the teen category. :)
happiness
happiness feels an awful lot like sorrow when you're gone away and i'm here sitting with my fake smile
when are you coming home?
happiness feels an awful lot like relief when you send a letter and your inkstrokes say that, for a little while, you are safe
promise me you'll stay that way?
happiness feels an awful lot like regret when i forget to say i love you and you hang up anyways
why didn't you call back?
happiness feels an awful lot like uselessness when they knock on the door and tell me you've gone
where'd you go?
happiness feels an awful lot like sorrow. you've gone away. you're not coming back. you're six feet under with a dirt blanket on your back and a wooden cage keeping me from you.
happiness feels an awful lot like sorrow. |
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2:20pm Mar 18 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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Juney that's so sad. :c It's beautiful though
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2:31am Mar 20 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 708
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i'll give this a shot because why not ~ v ~
i posted this on my writing blog as well where it got an amazing two notes !!! (but hopefully i'll have more luck here)
"here" (teen category)
here is the place that people dare to speak of,
here, the place spoken around huddled fires,
of late night mumbles,
unspoken scenarios.
here is a concept,
a string of words and ideas
not exactly here nor there
here is where the grass fails to grow greener,
where despair thrives quite like the plague,
a place in which anxiety must be held down to make room,
for the hopeless will inevitably end up here.
here is the single tear shed after sorrowful news,
here, the four white walls that keep it all in.
here is the place where the light at the end of the tunnel dares not shine upon.
here is where i am. |
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3:59am Mar 20 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 21
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May I submit this poem?:
(adult category)
Reflection
She is walking in the hidden forest
I hear she has glass for wings
I want her to invite me to be her guest
But so far, I'm among the hidden things.
I hear that the tree branches catch her hair
I hear that she waits and wanders without aim
But all I can see is her glass wings in the air
In them is my reflection, and it's never the same.
I follow her quietly behind
I get closer and reach out to touch the glass
It shatters into pieces that I cannot find
And again I fear that this chance was the last
I collapse to the ground with silence in my throat
But again, her wings return without explanation
On the glass are words that she wrote
And again, as before, I quietly fall into my reflection.
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12:07pm Mar 20 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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Why does everyone write sad poems? So depressing, but so beautifully written. Amazing work guys
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1:56pm Mar 24 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 1,100
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12:30pm Mar 26 2014 (last edited on 12:31pm Mar 26 2014)
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Normal User
Posts: 292
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Name ~ FluzzyPerson Age ~ Under 13 ti
tle ~ Running away, with Broadway.
Hannah slammed her backpack on the table with books spilling onto the floor. "Hannah, please wait. Listen." her mother, Lilly, shouted after her. "No!" Hannah shouted back and stomped upstairs, slamming her door. She looked at her room, posters covering the walls of horses. Hannah is a pony mad girl and has her own horse called Broadway. She looked through her closet for her tan jodhpurs, she could only see her navy blue ones. She put them on and put on a pink vest. She found some socks and put on her paddock boots. She grabbed her helmet on the way out the door. "Hannah, don't you want lunch. Just have something to eat before you go." Lily shouted. Hannah stopped, thought about it and hurried inside. She took an apple and took one of the apples with banana inside for Broadway. "Bye." Hannah mumbled past her mother. Hannah quickly ate the apple throwing it into the meadow as she walked the five minute trip to the stables. She got their and put the treat in her treat box. She waited for Annie as she was coming to ride. Her phone ringed and looked at the caller ID, Annie. Annie, where are you? Well, I can't make it. What? The lesson? Yes. Why not? What happened? Well, Fudge had an accident and the vet has to come. Oh my, is he okay? Not sure, but he won't get up. Okay, umm, I'll tell Kate. Text or phone me and tell me what happens okay. Sure. Hannah ended the call and went to fetch Broadway. She walked down and found him, knee-high in grass. I will have to talk to Kate Hannah thought. She found some cross-ties and gave a quick groom and got his tack out. She put some on and then clipped her helmet. Her phone beeped, she looked at the text from her mom, We need to talk baby, come back quickly! Hannah deleted the message and put her phone on silence. She put her phone in her box and walked down to the arena. When Kate came Hannah called her and talked, "Kate, Annie won't make the lesson because Fudge had an accident and the vet is coming, he doesn't want to get up. Oh, and why was Broadway in field B? He should be in field A because of, you know." "I hope Fudge gets better. I will talk to the grooms about that." Kate replied. Hannah concentrated on her lesson and was ready to go home when she realised her sleep over at Fran. She ran home and got inside. "Hannah, we need to talk." her mother said. "I can't, I am going to Fran. Remember!" Hannah said, not waiting for a reply hurried upstairs. She took a shower, blow-dried her hair and packed her bag. She called Fran. Fran, I am so sorry. So much has happened today and I will be there soon. Ready to go now. Don't worry Hannah, nobody is here. Spoke to soon, Alice just arrived. See you later. Hannah hurried down and asked her mom to take her. When she arrived Hannah jumped out and ran to the door. Ding-dong, went the bell. Mrs Peterson swung the door open. "Good evening Mrs Peterson, may I come inside?" Hannah said sweetly. "Hello Hannah, of course you can come inside. Everyone is in the living room." Hannah was walking and heard the girls talking about, Hannah. Hannah paused listening. "Don't you guys think Hannah is a show off?" went an unknown voice. "Totally!" many girls mumbled. "You guys are so mean to her. She is nice when you get to meet her." Fran said. Hannah walked in, "Thank you Fran for sticking up for me, at least I know someone is nice!" Gasps go around the room. "Yes, I heard you. Now goodbye, I am leaving since I am a show off I don't want to ruin the sleepover." Hannah said loudly. Hannah flipped her phone open, in front of everyone and called Annie on speaker phone. Hey Annie, can I come sleepover tonight? The girls here are really mean, besides Fran she is the only one that is being nice. Oh, sorry to hear that! Of course you can come over. Let me ask my mom. There was a pause and then Annie was back. Mom says yes, see you in a little while. Hannah walked out the room, telling Mrs Peterson what happened she saw Mrs Peterson walk in the living room. Hannah stayed out and listened. She hid when mrs Peterson walked out and the girls talked again. "Hannah is such a little snitch!" Hannah walked in "Another word and you do not know what is going to happen!" Hannah flipped her phone open phoned her mom and put it on speaker phone. Hey mom, I am going to go sleepover at Annie as all the girls at Fran, besides Fran is being mean. Those hurried girls, I will chat to them when you I pick you up and take you to Annie. See you in a bit! Hannah turned around and walked out. (Later on, things happen that goes on about the ti
tle!)
Pssst, I role play if you wanna make one together! -Fluzzy (PLEASE call me Fluzzy!)
I hatch spoilt eggs! Send those spoilt eggs you do not want!
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3:44pm Mar 26 2014
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Normal User
Posts: 3,828
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I am seventeen. :>
Paper Planes
Flaps of paper, misshapen wings and twisted noses all rucked up with street grime and muck. Damp, slick oil has spread across the tarmac, a bitter rainbow soaking into makeshift aircrafts—there are no nuts and bolts to oil, only the paper to wilt. Some wings are torn, whether from being mishandled before flight or from careening at the wrong angle into the ground. People can be careless like that.
The alleyway is swallowed by shadows, no sunlight to glitter off the iridescent oil that’s starting to look a lot less like a rainbow and a lot more like blood. Clouds in the sky have massed together and opened up their wells; fat drops of water plop against the ground. Some of the planes’ wings fold under their own weight.
Under the street grime and muck are words written on the paper. Words that are blurred and smeared, messages that are now indecipherable, but the memories they’d been written from, bled from heart onto paper, have already been long forgotten. Confessions and secrets and whispers and murmurs and they’re all pooling into a river of oil and water and ink and blood.
The ones that can feebly move their wings do so, work without hands and twist themselves inside and out, fold flaps up and down and create themselves a new body. Small sails catch the wind and they ride the river Styx. Two of them sink on their way; holes in their hulls let water rush in and drag them down. And the planes that had many years before been reduced to mere piles of flayed paper skin can only wave feebly at the survivors passing by.
Thunderous clouds loom overhead, bringing with them a steady torrent of rain and the frail sailboats are caught in the midst of the storm. Boats are driven to the edge of the river, beached like whales so far away from freedom. The Gates of Heaven, red with rust and clogged with leaves and trash, are before the rest of the fleet. Some of them waver and steer away from jagged manmade icebergs, but some are forced into them from the current; the crafts are upended and drowned without remorse.
Then one by one the masts begin to tip as the river turns into a waterfall. The boats descend through the Gates and swirl down into darkness—their soggy wood splinters and bursts when they are forced against the concrete bottom. Fireworks go off as they explode and their words are expelled from their ruined exteriors. All of those confessions and secrets and whispers and murmurs shoot off into the watery labyrinth.
A young girl tugs on her mother’s sodden sweater and gestures toward a street grate.
She swears she can hear laughter amid the patter of rain.
hello my name is elder price
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