The Writing Thread

[LacquerMuse]

I like the sort of countdown that's going on. The ending is rather abrupt, but the list sure makes one feel tired, so I think it works.

Midnight

Midnight is the hour of brilliance. Midnight is the moment what the stars glimmer like poisonous jewels, when the air is cut with fragments of the night's wind. The hour is potent and volatile, coursing with a blue-violet charge.  

[Matrias Fierno]

This is a little... I have no clue. I had to write something.

Holiday

Merry Christmas! says a man with a heart of gold,
Happy New Years! says a couple clinking wine that is old.

Wake up, it's Christmas! says the boy of young age,
Give Thanks! says an old and friendly sage.

(Merry Christmas) Hope and happiness run abound,
(Happy New Years) Another day has come around,
(Wake Up) You are full of scapegoat mischief,
(Give Thanks) You are still alive to read this.  

[Kusaragi]

Matrias Fierno

(Merry Christmas) Hope and happiness run abound,
(Happy New Years) Another day has come around,
(Wake Up) You are full of scapegoat mischief,
(Give Thanks) You are still alive to read this.

I really like the last verse of this,puts all holidays in perspective. Anyone who is sad on the holidays need to change somethig. ^_^

Merry Christmas!  

[Slim95]

Quote:

It Tastes Like Summer

If all could see scenes like this every day, the world would change for the better. I have no idea how I’ve come to such a place, but that seems quite the insignificant detail to tell you, at the moment. Soaking all this in is difficult, describing it to you, harder. I can only hope those dramatic metaphors and glittery vocabulary come to me on their own, as I am often tongue-tied when I would like it least.

Shall we begin with the river? It snakes between the rocky banks, a fallen piece of the pink-hued sky rolling over the earth. The sound it makes is not unlike the tiny trilling of some antique music box, soft and melodious with an irresistible vibe of calmness. A loud, squabbling duck couple is waddling into its waters, forgetting their troubles as they dazedly paddle through. They must belong to a resident of the area, for each of them bear the white feathers of domestication. Their peace is short lived, it seems, for I have just now heard the familiar barking of a nearby pooch. I do not even have to look to tell that it’s the nearby farm’s dog, for if it is a hungry stray, it would be after those plump fowl in the blink of an eye.

As I stroll closer to the water, my sore feet screaming for its cool shores, the mixed scent of warm dust and lavender wafts over me. And what is this? All I can describe it as is the aroma of baking rocks, for there is nothing more simple or complicated. Dipping my pulsating blisters beneath the water, I feel the lazy current drifting between my toes. It is a long lost friend, welcoming back my world-weary soul, and it is, indeed, quite welcome itself. How peculiar that I have not noticed an elderly rowboat, banked but a few feet away, till this very moment? It resembles a slumbering tortoise, silently crouching amongst the boulders. I cannot stop myself from hopping stone-to-stone till I am just close enough to run my fingers over its wooden bow. The texture I find, to my great surprise, is not yet worn away by the elements. Every wooden ridge brushes gently against my fingertips, each one individually identifiable. What a marvel some of the most common of things can be.

Grinning to myself, I pluck a blade of grass from the earth and tuck it between my lips. It tastes like summer; that farm-raised growth. It tastes of exciting days and quiet nights, and I cannot be more pleased.

Just a bit of descriptive writing. sweatdrop I know I went overboard with the similies/metaphors/personifications.......Sorry.

CC is very welcome!  

[De-kun [b l u e]]

Writing? Cool.

I'll try my hand at it...

He is at once unknowingly bound. It feels physical, like a lust of the soul. A desire to know more, to find more, to collect bits, to speak to everyone. A wanting to stop all of it that hurts so horribly, yet to continue the glory he is basking himself it. It is at once both a masochistic habit and an irrelevant fantasy.

He draws in his breath, content. There isn't a course of action but more a course of thought, thorough thought throughout his morning, all delivered through his tiny stylus.

He checks, resumes life. Checks, resumes life. Co-dependent on a fantasy life. Trying to go cold turkey on a world where you just might live with one.

Though he muses once in a while about stopping, he just can't.

sweatdrop Wow that was bad...  

[Indigo Project]

Weather Girl

It was bright out the day that he first walked into her life; tall, confident, strong, and just as apt to break into song or chatter about the latest developments as she or any of her other friends were. He seemed to project the same golden rays as the sun above did, and warmed her in the same way.
At night they would all go out as a group, riding under the shimmering constellations with the wind blowing through their hair. Her heart soared on the windy highway. They would laugh and the sky would twinkle, but it would never turn so cold that they would want to turn back.
The newscaster warned her of rain, but she paid no heed. She saw her friends sitting together, and he was with them, as always. He leaned in to whisper something in her friend’s ear.
“They decided to hook up,” another friend confided in her. “Apparently he’s had a thing for her this whole time.”
The clouds blew in. The wind died. The sun could no longer penetrate the shadow. She smiled.
“Really? That’s great!” She squealed and hugged her friends, but she could not keep up the idle chatter for long.
She took a walk. Dark flecks began to appear all around her on the ground, melded together, and turned her view to a dull gray. Her hair hung limp and her pockets filled with water. She did not even flinch as great sheets of rain fell upon her, into her eyes, and streamed down her face.  

[Pnytenshi]

(this is currently untitled....)

They say that girls can never make up their minds; especially if that girl just cast off two of the guys that she liked for another and is continually being pursued by a guy who can’t keep his hands out of his pants. Lina made decisions and she made people follow her directions lest they die the horrible death by foam. But when it came to make the decisions to herself, picky could not even describe the degree of her indecisiveness.

Her heart would always skip a beat in English class, seeing that he was sitting next to her. And she would always turn the shade of her bright apple red sweatshirt she wore in light of Valentine’s Day. She was especially happy that day too for it was peer revision day. After the teacher’s droning instructions about how to revise a paper for the third time that week, he turned to Lina and smiled. “So, you wanna trade?”

In addition to being red, she kept looking at the ground and kind of tossed her paper onto his desk. He softly set his paper onto Lina’s desk and started to revise the other’s paper, though it was very hard for Lina to concentrate on the words of the papers and continued the “OMG! HE GAVE ME HIS PAPER!” that reeled through her head.

When they had finished, they exchanged again and written on the paper, written in red was the three words that she wanted to “hear”. She turned to him and saw that he too was the same color as the ink on the paper.

(i blame a night of watching Cinderella 3... and sleeping at 3 in the morning.... that was the latest that i have ever slept...)  

[Matrias Fierno]

I was worried that this thread had died. I'm happy it didn't.

Anyways, since my last submission was two months ago...

A Bored Person

A God's Pain

The peace of this world clings by a thread,
And should one more person bow their head,
Give in, give up, quit instead,
Then all would be lost, and none gained,
And the world would have to begin again,
And for a God, that is such a pain.

 

[Gm_The_Magician]

I wrote this story from my mind. I day dreamed it, and found it utterly totally and utterly disturbing I needed it out on paper. It's far from being "Finished,” Well I mean it's finished, but not polished up completely. I would love for Constructive criticism, and what everyone thought. That would be great guys, thank you, and now I bring you the story...

Quote:

An Arm for an Arm and an Eye for an Eye

Charlie slowly made his way out of house. It was about midnight as he left with an ice and beer-filled cooler for him and his friends. He slowly climbed out the window of his one story home. His room was right next to his parents and yet, they didn’t suspect a thing. Slowly and silently he opened his window. He looked out his window, and without hesitation, lowered the cooler soundlessly. Charlie was a semi tall teenager with brown hair. He had fair skin, and lovely golden eyes that glistened in the moonlight, but his smile was twisted as could be. He had a rounded nose, skinny eyebrows, and a slight muscular build. He wore jeans, and his favorite short-sleeved shirt. Never could he suspect that this night would change his life forever.
Charlie then stepped over the windowsill ever so gently onto the cooler. He slowly put his body weight onto the cooler as he made his way out of his window. He closed it as best he could, so he could easily get back in once he returned home. He was quite the promiscuous little scamp, sneaking out with alcohol, waiting for his friends. Charlie had agreed to meet Jordan down at the end of his street, so that his parents wouldn’t hear a car pull up to the driveway. They were smart kids, but not smart enough. Charlie made his way down the street. He didn’t wish to walk on the sidewalk, for fear of being seen out late by his paranoid, insomniac neighbors. He decided to take a short cut through the many bushes that didn’t seem harmful; little did he know that many of them were thorn-covered bushes. He didn’t even notice the thorns. His jeans were protecting him, and the cooler kept his arm high above the bushes.
Farther down, near the end of the street, hung a spider’s webbing that held back some sharp thorns. The thorns back against the thorn bush created a small path for Charlie. As he slowly passed by, his elbow brushed the web, breaking it and, causing the sharp thorns to come down, sticking into his forearm. He dropped the cooler with a thud, gritting his teeth in pain as the thorns stuck into his forearm, piercing his three layers of skin. In a line, one after the other, it seemed, they stuck in. He then slowly pulled away from the thorns, causing them to tear his skin deeper, and connecting the three holes. He was bleeding quite a bit. As soon as he was able, Charlie jerked his arm away from the thorns, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He ripped a piece of his shirt off, and wrapped it around his wound, sighing. He had a high tolerance of pain for a teenager. His white shirt quickly turned blood red, but for some reason, Charlie couldn’t feel the pain.
He slowly picked the cooler back up, looking around to make sure his neighbors didn’t hear him. He made his way to the end of the street, and just as he thought, Jordan was waiting for him there. Jordan was about as tall as Charlie, but with more muscle. He would be the drunken chauffeur for the night. He had blue eyes, and brown curly hair. He wore his signature sweatshirt, and blue jeans with slight tears at the bottom of them. Next to Jordan was his girlfriend, Amanda, who was longingly caressing him. They loved each other, and anyone could see it a mile away. After all, she couldn’t keep off of him. She was quite angular with black hair that shimmered in the light and her green eyes were nice as well. She wore a loose black jacket where’re she went. Her shirts were always a mystery, but not to Jordan, he always new what shirt she was wearing. She also wore tight slender jeans with her ensemble. Jordan and Amanda both looked at Charlie’s arm and questioned him as to what had happened. He took off the cloth to show them that the wound was nothing horrible. They offered to take him to the hospital; he declined and dropped his little cloth on the ground. The cut had stopped bleeding, and he felt he wouldn’t need wouldn’t need his bandage any longer.
They brushed it off, and hopped in the car with the cooler. They each took a beer in hand, and began drinking their asses off. They talked extensively about life, and how the Blue Man Group made them ever so mad. They then moved on to school, and other subjects of the like. They began to mock friends, enemies, teachers, and people they barely even knew. They didn’t care; it was funny to them in that car, on the street corner. Jordan, being smart, came up with the idea to go and get something to eat. Seeing as they were near a highway and some fast food restaurants, they decided to go for it, thinking they weren’t to drunk. They were wrong. Jordan slowly inserted his key with much difficulty. He tried for a good two minutes before he got it in. He then turned the key, and on came his car. He put it in drive, and slowly began to pick up speed as they went. They made it out of the neighborhood, and began speeding towards their destination. As he hit the desolate highway, the car was well over the speed limit. Everything was going in a blur to them as he sped past the town. All he, Amanda, and Charlie knew was that the blazing lights were pretty. Charlie sat in the back seat with his feet propped up on the other side, so that he was fully stretched out. Charlie’s arm ran over the back of the seat against the back window. Then Charlie noticed something; the city was far behind them, and they couldn’t see the town anymore.
They approached a puddle, they didn’t see soon enough, just big enough for them to hydroplane. Then all of a sudden they started spinning out of control. Jordan had no idea what was happening. Amanda held onto him, and laughed it up. A slab of concrete stood up ahead that some idiot kids had set up for a wild jump that had long since past; they never saw it coming. As soon as they hit the slab, and as they spun, they went air-born. They began to flip through the air. Amanda’s head, which was dug into Jordan’s chest, went up and hit his chin. Jordan’s tongue was sticking out, for he thought the air felt great. His head sprang up, and hit the roof of the car. His jaw came up on his tongue, biting it off. Blood began to squirt from the stub of his tongue onto the windshield. Jordan’s jaw crushed Amanda’s skull when it came back down. Amanda, and Jordan were knocked out, and couldn’t feel a thing. Charlie went up as the car did, and banged his head on the ceiling, knocking him out as well. His thorn cut arm went flying through the back windshield as they were in mid flight. As the car bounced, his cut, hanging out the window, slowly began ripping open. As it did, the wind force from the flipping car slowly pulled the skin as if it were a rubber glove. As the wind pulled on the skin, Charlie’s skin caught a hold of the ground. The car bounced, almost instantly ripping the skin right off his arm. Everything from the cut down was gone. All that was left from the incident were muscle fibers and bone sticking out of the window.
The car had flipped in the air a good five times before finally and suddenly rocking to a stop. It’s quite unlikely that this would have happened, if it weren’t for the two twisted poles sticking through the roof of the car, covered in blood. The two metal rods had forever impaled the two lovers in the positions they were to hold forever, against each other for eternity. The metal rods had gone strait through their heads and down their bodies, exiting out their pelvic bones. They died unconscious and kissing, lucky to stay in each other’s arms.
Charlie awoke several hours later in the desert, with beer bottles and glass everywhere around him. He didn’t even see what had happened to Jordan and Amanda. He looked over, cautiously, at his arm. He couldn’t feel it at all. He began to breath heavily, and looked at it, only to find red muscle fibers and bone. His eyes widened as he began to freak. His skin was completely gone from his arm. He tried to scream, but nothing happened. His vocal cords were shot. He slowly tried moving his arm, but the glass around it didn’t help. As soon as he did move it, the sharp glass began cutting the muscle fibers. He didn’t realize it. Then, out of nowhere, he heard a snap, muscle fiber had broken and, before he knew it, the fiber came whipping back. A crackling noise of a whip could be heard. His right eye watched in slow motion as the fiber came back and snapped him in his eye. This caused his eye to bust open wide for all to see.
Charlie cried in pain as he forced his way out of the car. He ripped his arm free of the window, causing the fibers to snap and break all over. He tried even more to cry out in pain, but nothing came of it. He tried yelling for help, but despite his efforts, no help would ever come. He would die in that desert, in pain, waiting for the help that never came.

 

[MrJimmy]

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes  

[Alarias]

MrJimmy

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes

They likes to write sir! scream xp  

[MrJimmy]

Alarias

MrJimmy

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes

They likes to write sir! scream xp

I guess... but this old thread is so... uuuuugly now...  

[Alarias]

MrJimmy

Alarias

MrJimmy

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes

They likes to write sir! scream xp

I guess... but this old thread is so... uuuuugly now...

... stare


...so, give it a makeover? ninja (don't ask me how...I wasn't aware that threads could even be pretty... sweatdrop )  

[MrJimmy]

Alarias

MrJimmy

Alarias

MrJimmy

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes

They likes to write sir! scream xp

I guess... but this old thread is so... uuuuugly now...

... stare


...so, give it a makeover? ninja (don't ask me how...I wasn't aware that threads could even be pretty... sweatdrop )

Well you know! What with my old account and everything, I feel so detached...  

[Alarias]

MrJimmy

Alarias

MrJimmy

Alarias

MrJimmy

Jeeze, you guys are still bumping this? rolleyes

They likes to write sir! scream xp

I guess... but this old thread is so... uuuuugly now...

... stare


...so, give it a makeover? ninja (don't ask me how...I wasn't aware that threads could even be pretty... sweatdrop )

Well you know! What with my old account and everything, I feel so detached...

ahh sad

Um...well...we could make a new writing thread? retire this one? *shrugs*