The Writing Thread

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Novatierrie

Fun. Could probably do with an edit, but...I think everything could use an edit or five. (My last piece involved a rough, an edit of that rough, sending the second draft off to a beta, getting it back, editing it again, and then writing the rough draft of a second part and going back to make sure the first could lead into it smoothly. o_o; And this is just writing for fun. ...I don't do any of that for class. :B)

Uhm...if we don't mind fanfic I could post something? >.>;

As it says, any writing that your proud of! If you read my prompt, you might notice that the above example started as a fanfiction.  

[Blood Red Epiphany]

I made this Gaia character as a way to get away from people that used to talk to me...I don't like them much anymore. But I wrote a poem a while back so if anyone has read this you know who I am.

Do I Mean What I Say

Here I sit upon my throne
Of Broken glass and Shattered stone
Glazed eyes fixed on bodies prone
Gazing as the Puppets drone

Do I mean what I say
Or say what I mean
For within the fray
The lives are sheen

I am the god of Broken Glass
The hearts I break are split so fast
And those that fall won't be the last
Upon vast fields of Crimson grass

Do I mean what I say
Or say what I mean
For within the fray
False lives are sheen

Dance my Puppets with crowns of gold
So all your tales remain untold
With strings of Fear I make you bold
Yet in my hands your lives I hold

Do I mean what I say
Or say what I mean
For your souls are clay
With minds so lean

>.>

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Death Threats?

 

[Novatierrie]

[ Message temporarily off-line ]  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Hey that was okay for a snippit. What I mean by that is I got what was going on, without having to have read the whole story. Imagery.

I liked the poem too! Keep it coming! *snapps*

I'll post a short story in here later.  

[Anti Raven]

Twilight once tried to write a story. Only, later she changed it (lacking motivation) to become a roleplay prompt so others could help with her inspiration. Lately, inspiration has not been very plentiful and Twilight has been really down-hearted. Sometimes, she writes poetry. But all of her poetry is spontaneous, free-form, having no structure and no frame. Most of it doesn't even rhyme. Basically, it's her thoughts and her feelings seperated into fragments, seperated into lines. Twilight liked Mr. Jimmy's story. Especially with the fantasy element that she has grown to love.

Such potential is here...within such a humble thread.

 

[Morkul]

I do write alot of poetry, and i'll try and find some to post, alot of it is on personal experiences, so i will try and find one appropriate.  

[AlcoholicPancake]

MrJimmy

AlcoholicPancake

I would like to say that, I liked that long post you had before, very interesting, atleast to me. I would have posted earlier, but I got cought up with talking to my friend Nate, sorry

Did you read it?? I know it's pretty unmanageable.

Yeah, I have no life so I read a lot of peoples works.  

[Lifes Little Conflict]

great Idea MrJimmy! I'll scan through my computer to look for writings but until I find more, Good luck <3  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

twilight365

Twilight once tried to write a story. Only, later she changed it (lacking motivation) to become a roleplay prompt so others could help with her inspiration. Lately, inspiration has not been very plentiful and Twilight has been really down-hearted. Sometimes, she writes poetry. But all of her poetry is spontaneous, free-form, having no structure and no frame. Most of it doesn't even rhyme. Basically, it's her thoughts and her feelings seperated into fragments, seperated into lines. Twilight liked Mr. Jimmy's story. Especially with the fantasy element that she has grown to love.

Such potential is here...within such a humble thread.

Oh, um thank you... for calling my thread horrible.

It seems to me like you write farily well. Stories arn't the best place to start out. Try writing a short story instead. I always feel much more accomplished and more willing to write when I finish things I start writing.  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Rusty_Spoon

great Idea MrJimmy! I'll scan through my computer to look for writings but until I find more, Good luck <3

Well we survived to two pages... there's hope if people submit more.  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

[ Message temporarily off-line ]  

[Anti Raven]

You mistake my intention, perhaps. Twilight had not meant to call your thread horrible. As to Mr. Jimmy's suggestion, Twilight can never satisfy herself with a short story. It always lacks something else - a conflict, a new struggle, or perhaps a better ending. Long stories....they may never be finished, but there is so much potential, so much hope. In English class, when she had attempted a short story, it ended up as a poem instead. Perhaps Twilight should post one.  

[Anti Raven]

This particular piece was inspired by emotion. Twi wrote it long ago, but she still likes the mood it conveys.

Twilight

It doesn't take much, a word is enough
For this hatred to swell
From deep within, it overcomes my senses
Overriding any logic, reason, thought
My blood pumps faster, deep within my veins
I can still smell the stains

It doesn't take much, a look is enough
Those eyes filled with lies
From deep within, my senses are overwhelmed
All instinct is thrown asunder,
My eyes narrow, every muscle tense
I can still see his face

But he's gone now, gone from my life.
I cannot erase him from my memories,
those moments that we shared...
My hatred still has not quelled, even after all these years.

 

[Joey Go!]

I highly doubt anyone will read this
('cause lord knows I didn't read any of the other s**t posted here)
(nothing personal, I'm just lazy)

but eh
here goes my little horror story:

30 years, gazing into my wreched ivory wench, with only my child of sound to force my daily breaths, I live only to see another day. Beethoven has left his signature upon my heart, 'moonlight sonata' it reads. How I've grown so attatched to my one and only child in which I've adopted, in what it seems, so many eternities ago. The cold floor beneath my tired body, the angelic quire of the piano engullfing my senses, the crying roof above me, hovering in all it's morbid beauty, I live dormant. With each caress, my child grows, it matures, it feeds from a well of my sanity in which as gone dry so so, so very long ago. This deselant sanctuary of mold and echoes has served as my limbo, my paradox, my home, with my only diety that reminds me of my reality, of my existence, of my earthly flesh and bones is my child, my dearest moonlight sonata. How I've often dreamt of fleeing this incaurceration in which I so enthusiastically cursed myself with all those moons ago. To seek refuge amongst the ones in which I so cowardly deserted. But no...after so long of hearing only the haunting voice of my murderous child, the sound of another human voice would be as a thousand needles penetrating my heart. Their eyes....Those awful eyes. Those eyes like the hands of a hundred children, tearing at my flesh like the buzzards they were. I sought refuge from my curse, my...habbits. Their mortal minds could not comprehend the depth of my appologies. The haunting memories of the hell in which I'd spawned. The maggots feasting upon tattered flesh...the ripples in the crimson puddles of my perversy...the eyes of the innocent, vexing me forevermore, and her...her dress, look at what I'd done to her dress. The burgendy handprints scattered upon her dress, her body, and her face. How I wish I'd never strolled through the wrechid cathedral upon that faithful sunday morning. I gazed upon her flesh and knew it had to be mine. How envious I was of her perfection, oh how I admired. She was alone...and I took her. When she awoke, I'd already let my perversy take control, with proof of blood streaming down her legs, bruises upon her chest and missing chunks of flesh from her neck, (my teeth, surely the colporate). She screamed and cried, begging for my forgiveness in which crimes she'd not commited. Pleading for mercy, however my jealousy, my anger, my hatred, my envy, would not let such meaningless words affect my actions. I detested her, and so I slowly sawed off (with the tiniest of razors) a most precious female organ. My hands were soiled in blood and urine, her dress as well by now. I looked at her and simply let a smile, however never spoke. She was unworthy of my broken voice. She spit in my face and attempted to maul me, however I easily overpowered her frail body and snapped both wrists, her bone popping right out of her skin. She huddled in pain on the floor and I stood over her. I was superior to her, now. I looked down upon her and for that instant, I was a GOD. I then kneeled down and pushed her on her back. Mounting myself on her blood caked stomach, I held both arms behind her head, holding at her open wrist wounds, as she screamed in beautiful agony. I then kneeled in and softly kissed her lips for a moment, only to cut her blessing of a kiss from me with the vicious biting of her lip off. I started with her bottom and penetrated the middle, then slowly pulled my head back and ripped her lip right off her face. I then kissed her new wound and let some of the blood ooze into my mouth. I lifted my head to where she could see me, and as she locked eyes with me I smiled and let the blood simply drip onto her face. Her tears ran in syncronization with her blood and my salva from her eyes to her ears, then to join there liquid bretheren in the puddle beneath her. I left her top lip as is. My memory has rusted somewhat, so I'm unsure of why I left it, however at that moment I'm sure it had a justified reason. She was near death now, the massive loss of her innocent blood was taking it's affect, slowly, however most definitely surely. Before she'd pass, I took the razor in which I used to impale her sex and slowly slid it across those beautiful ambur eyes of hers. Her eyes lost solidity and slowly oozed down her face. Her shreaks of terror had never been louder, but with her last dying breath, she'd curse me. "coward...." She said in a quiet whisperish exhale. A mear child of 7, brought to her end in a way that the devil himself could envy. At my hands. At that moment, through a tear in the hole of the old shack in which I'd performed, a ray of moonlight illuminated her face. I stopped what I was doing then and slowly began to realize what I'd done. I'd run short of breath and in that instant, tears rushed from eyes as I looked around at the nightmare in which I'd created. The moonlight...I'd not gotten a clear glance at my creation until that moment, and at that moment, I vowed to forever remind myself (as punishment) of the poetry I'd commited. For you see, my poetry was my ecstacy, my ecstacy was my urge, my urge was my perversy, and my perversy was my art, my "killings." That is my signature, that is my reminiscent, that is my moonlight sonata...  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

twilight365

This particular piece was inspired by emotion. Twi wrote it long ago, but she still likes the mood it conveys.

*snaps* Poetry is always really illusive for me. I never feel like I'm getting it right. I suppose I'm sort of the opposite from you in that I sit down trying to write a poem and I just start writing paragraphes.

Thanks for your submission, real capitol stuff. Keep posting!