Misty’s writing

[Shadowed they/them]

So, I really like to write. And I often write a lot of stuff that never amounts to anything. I have a whole bunch of it just sitting on my phone, waiting to be read for the first time by someone other than me. 

And, idk if anyone actually wants to read these because they’re kind of bad, and my writing’s always a bit hit-and-miss, but here you go anyway.

Always and Forever

I wrote this after I had just come out to one of my friends and they accepted me. It was the best feeling and I wanted to write it down, so this happened. Tell me what you think 

Spoiler

Elinor sits on her favourite bench, and waits.

She knows that, on the other side of the world, Harlow is doing the same. 

Separated by land, yes. But not in spirit. 

At the edge of her consciousness, she feels the familiar tug. It’s him.

She starts before he can. There’s something I have to tell you. There’s a note of anxiety - no, terror - in her voice. I understand if you’ll never love me again. I understand if you call me all sorts of horrible names. I understand if… if you hate me.

Harlow’s gentle voice stops hers. No. I would never do that. Tell me what worries you, Elinor, and I can help you.

She has prepared for this. But it is almost too much. The emotion almost overwhelms her. 

Somehow, she holds it together. I… I’m a Forestsong.

A what? For some reason he sounds delighted rather than horrified. Perhaps she has misinterpreted him.

A Forestsong. I can communicate with trees. I can hold the form of a tree. I sing with the trees, hear their thoughts and feelings. She sounds wary, cautious.

I know what a Forestsong is, of course I do. It’s just… this is crazy! But why didn’t you tell me?

Didn’t you see all the Forestslayers leaflets everywhere? Or had you left by that point?

Elinor senses the spark of a memory just recalled in Harlow’s mind. Maybe… maybe I did see some things. Once or twice. 

Then why aren’t you calling me a heathen? Why aren’t you begging for an exorcism? Why are you even maintaining this link with me? I’m of the devil! You have to know that!

Harlow laughs softly, and she can almost feel his hand on her shoulder, his eyes gazing back into hers. 

I don’t believe that. And neither should you. You’re special. You have a gift I could only dream of. And I accept you, I cherish you, because you are mine and I am yours. Always and forever.

She look up and gazes across at the forest that surrounds her. Her people. “Always and forever”, she whispers out loud. 

Always and forever.

Here’s a… slightly darker one that I wrote when I wasn’t feeling the best. I expect it is a semicoherent jumble of sentences, but, um, see what you think?

(CW blood)

Gone

Spoiler

The rain cradles me as I cry.

I cry for her, for them, for what could have been.

And, yes, I cry for myself.

My hands are awash with blood. I let her go. I let her go. I let her go.

I sit on the same wall I sat on that day, watching the ambulances with their bright yellow stickers and bright blue lights that shine in your eyes and blind you. 

None of them are the ambulance that took her away. I would know that ambulance anywhere - after all, I spent so long staring at its registration plate, memorising it, casting my eyes anywhere, anywhere but on her face.

Her once-beautiful face, contorted in agony, that look of pure anguish in her eyes — but not only anguish. Betrayal.

I let her go. I dropped her.

The tears fall onto my hands and mingle with the blood and the sweat and the rain. I want to tip my head back to the heavens and beg, plead, scream for mercy. I want to pray for me to take her place up there with the angels. I want to see her precious face one last time, so reminiscent of mine in so many ways and yet so different at the same time. So uniquely her.

Oh, my girl. My daughter.

Gone.

With a start, I notice that the lights of the ambulance have receded into the distance, leaving me in the darkness. Where I belong.

The scream of sirens begins to draw closer again, and this time it’s too much. I can’t sit here and remember. I can’t. 

I have to get away from the bad, bad place. 

But I can’t move. 

Suddenly I’m hyperventilating. Black spots dance at the edge of my vision. Everything goes blurry. 

PTSD often comes with panic attacks, they told me.

This isn’t a panic attack. This is a woman breaking.

This is a woman broken.

 

[Szeth's Facepalm]

On 11/15/2022 at 3:01 PM, Shadowed said:

So, I really like to write. And I often write a lot of stuff that never amounts to anything. I have a whole bunch of it just sitting on my phone, waiting to be read for the first time by someone other than me. 

And, idk if anyone actually wants to read these because they’re kind of bad, and my writing’s always a bit hit-and-miss, but here you go anyway.

Shadowed- these are AMAZING!!! Please share more!

[Shadowed they/them]

i completely forgot i made this 

thank you for the kind words! i’ll probably put everything in the other thread i made from now on tho because this thread is ancient lol