Usseewa

Lots of poems today! Yeah... *gulp* (Poems begin after the following story.) Complicated For Nora, immortality was…complicated. Some of it was the loneliness and loss that everyone talked about. Some of it was thinking of all you could have done in a time far-gone. Over time, Nora had learned how to let years pass like weeks. But sometimes she missed something. Or felt like she did. Truth was, you only realized what you missed after the fact. Nora could do nearly anything she wanted. Nearly. She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t stay. How? How…how do I know? When others do so. How do they know? When I don’t, no. And if I’m mistaken? Antiquated It may be antiquated, But not outdated, obsolete. It may be old, But it can be classic, vintage. It may be new, But not better, or different. Alphabetically So “...and Ben couldn’t decide!” exclaimed Felix. “Granted, he is…judged.” Kelly, lost, merely nodded. “Okay…” “Perhaps,” Quin remarked. “Students tease under veils. When Xavier, youngest, zombified…” Can’t. Won’t. Want? I…can’t be like them. Do I want to? Sometimes. Sometimes not. I think…somewhat? Inkwell Sometimes the well of ideas runs dry. So I write something like this or that. Where I don’t always know the meaning. Or if there is one, at that. I have a day or two or three, Where that well is overflowing. Then it slowly dies down, For an equal time. All in all, the same is true: Sometimes I write what I think, Sometimes I write what I feel, Sometimes I write what I don’t. Anew I am anew, as is this year. Suddenly I, Am putting words down, That act as a wormhole, Into my brain, And into my heart. Meaning So many words, But do they have meaning? So many meanings, But will they be seen? So many readers, But do they see meaning? So many meanings, But do the words mean? Ever? It’s already so late, So far along. Yet what has come of it? Only partway fulfilled, My goals do stand. Will this change, With time? Vagueities Intentionally vague, I can so be. For I do not know, Or don’t wish you so. Can? Can anything be? A simple thought? A meaningless thought? A meaningful thought, Though one so cliché? Wow Wow, I thought, looking back on my work. So much created, so much expressed, so much explored. Wow, I thought, looking over your work. Much more created, much more expressed, much more explored. Oh, I thought, looking back on my work. How much created, how much expressed? How much explored, how much to go? Wow, I think, looking back on my work. So much accomplished, so much to go. Quite the journey ahead. Proud. Once-proud. Still-proud. Comfort I say “no,” To the cold and the heat, I say “no,” To the wind around me. In doing so, I get sick of what comes, From saying “no,” To that you should not. And saying “yes,” To that you should not. I should say “sometimes,” To the cold and the heat, And the wind around me. And I should say “sometimes,” To the page and the screen. More former than latter, Should be a plus. But perhaps less latter, Leaves room for what’s best. Shortcuts What is “what’s”? Do not “don’t”? Is not “isn’t,” A crime? I say “they’re not!” Isn’t it easier? Don’t you agree? What’s the harm, you see? Ten Years’ In ten years’ time, Will I still lookup ReGex, Only to use it once, And forget it like the rest? Memes Memes aplenty, To cheer up my day. Or make me waste hours, On something mundane. Seventeenth The seventeenth one, Of this very day. To come from my mind, And onto the “page.” Why so many? Do they have meaning? Or is this the same as say freewriting? A recurring theme, Does seem to be: What I write, And what it means. I know they mean something. Some of them do. So what is the issue? Is it…with you? Where “you” is not real: Undefined, null. Empty, None, False or zero. Last That last one was lengthy, Unintentionally so. Yet it returned Truthy, And now “you” know. F.Y.I. fyi, just so you know. btw, (no offense meant). These are the words, That I type down. Or say out loud, When someone’s around. And that's all for today...maybe. I might write more and either update this post or make a "part 2." Lots of poems, since that is something I'm exploring for the first time in...a while. I really appreciate you, whoever you are, for reading this! - Theory

Hey, Rue, how're your essays going? (Small talk be like:) I wrote a bunch of poems, most of them short Now I can't stop thinking of rhymes, And reading in lines. I'm posting today's soon. it's seventeen poems, I do believe. Plus two short stories, for you to read. edit2: (^not the best lol but ya. Also, some of the poems will probably/hopefullly seem kinda like nonsense lol....) Edit: also, i used your Dreaming prompt for a story, except not exactly. it's more like (or going to be, if i write more) similar to Your Name maybe? (Have you watched it? I loved it) Edit again: here they are: yesterday (~half poems, and I think the first story there is the Dreams one) and today (lots of poems). Also, do you mind when I share my writing with you/ask you to read it?

He would be from Ashyn I think.

Mraize? or...Betd

Note: I made a lot of poems or poem-esque in the second half of this day's (which was actually yesterday!) chunk of writing. So...hope you enjoy! You might not understand all the poems, but isn't that sometimes the point? Dreams She dreamt of him again that night. The mystery boy. She didn’t know him, but almost felt like she did. And when she woke up, she missed him—or the dream. She just wanted to ignore that irritating alarm and drift back to sleep—back to him. She knew she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—for she had school today. She reached over to her nightstand and silenced the alarm on her phone, but continued to lie in bed, thinking. * * * She must have dozed off again, as she opened her eyes as her mom shook her awake. She groaned. “Am I late?” “You missed the bus, but it's slow anyway,” her mom replied lovingly. “I made you some breakfast to eat in the car, but we have to leave in five minutes.” “Thanks, Mom,” she replied, “and sorry I missed my alarm.” “It’s alright, just try to wake up on time tomorrow?” “I’ll try…” Control He tried to scream, but his clamped shut against his will. He could only watch as his body stopped and sat down calmly at the side of his bed. His mind, however, was anything but calm. Vehicles quietly pulled up outside—so as not to disturb the others in the apartment building. Light footsteps began to sound on the stairs and in the hallway. He should have known they would be capable of this. He knew many of their secrets. When the door behind him creaked open, he mentally braced himself. He couldn’t turn to see who it was, and couldn’t shut his eyes at what would certainly follow. She wasn’t who he had expected. “I’m here to help you,” she whispered. The Movies I stood in line with my parents and brother, surveying the snack choices. My brother picked up a pack of those horrendous gummies which were unnaturally chewy and made me feel as if I were eating sugared-up plastic. He liked them anyway. I opted for chocolate-covered raisins, my favorite. Even as I told myself to save some for later, I knew I would likely end up walking out of the theatre with the box empty. Popcorn bags and drinks clutched to our chests, buttered and unbuttered pieces alike already falling to the carpeted floor, we walked through the door. Awkwardly holding the tickets while trying not to drop everything else, Mom read the row numbers in the dim light and we stumbled over. Once there, we finally set down our burdens and took a seat. We sat through the previews, whispering jokes to one another or taking note of an upcoming movie to continue the eternal cycle. Not that I minded; I looked forward to these days. I still do. The lights dimmed and we grew quiet as the movie began. Eyes focused on the light before me, I reached into the half-empty bag of popcorn and took a bite. I leaned forward and took a sip of my drink to combat the salty taste of popcorn. The credits for various studios ended, and the tale began. * * * Music played, lights came on, and white text scrolled by on a dark screen. We gathered bags—salty dregs at the bottom—and took one last sip from our drinks as we shuffled out of the theatre room. We chatted about our favorite scenes, what we liked or didn’t, and how we were all eager for next time. Patience “When will it be ready?” “Soon.” “That’s what you said an hour ago!” “And I meant it. You’re simply using a different frame of reference.” “Well, can you at least give me a straight answer?” “No.” “Why not!?” “Because I don’t know the answer.” Satisfaction Peter leaned back in his small spinning chair, stretching and letting out a long sigh. Not one of frustration, but one of satisfaction. He had done it. He marvelled at his essay—not his best work, but certainly better than he had expected. And he hadn’t expected much. Or anything. He glanced at the clock on his laptop: 9:53pm, it read. Had he really written for over three hours straight? He smiled, relieved—it felt wonderful having that anxiety lifted. Sparing only a brief review to edit the essay, Peter uploaded the essay to his professor, then went to sleep feeling better than he had all week. It (not the novel/movies) It came out of nowhere, glistening tendrils exploding from a point on the stone wall. In less than a second, the wall crumbled into pieces of rock, then ash, then dust. By the time this was through, the tendrils had already spread to the ground. In the blink of an eye, the building shared the fate of that wall. Those who had seen it were staring slack-jawed, too shocked to move or speak. Those who were oblivious to it continued laughing and playing in the late-spring sun. Both groups shared a similar fate to the wall and building as the tendrils erupted along the grass and lashed out. Dust soon began to settle in silence on the now-bare ground. Hello? “H-hello? Anyone there?” … “What is this darkness? Where am I?” … “Why can’t…why can’t I remember anything?” … First poem/poem-esque! Speech She shared—sensing stillness. She stopped—silenced. She sighed—somber. She sparred—speaking. She struggled—striving. She—salvation—succeeded. Space Space was marvelous. Sure, it was lonely too, but she tried not to dwell on that. Or the existential dread that came with it as she drifted through the void. Instead, she focused on why she was here. She gazed through the shield of a window that protected her from joining the ever-growing sea of space debris. This window faced away from that, facing forward. Toward the incomprehensible unknown. Toward salvation, she hoped. He, her. He healed, having her here. He heeded her humbling. He halted his hypocrisy. He honed his honesty. He harnessed his humanity. He had hope, hearing her. Symbols What are these symbols? They once made sense. Now, all I see are lines on a paper, pixels on a screen. Gibberish. Maybe…maybe I just need a break. A break from the constant exposure. * * * What are these symbols? Days later, I still don’t know. Thoughts Thought They thought, thoroughly, through this. They think that—through thoughts—they thrive. They thrive, though, through thoughtfulness. She, he. She heard him, hurting. He sobbed softly, salty streams searing skin. She held him, hearts hugging. He shared her soothing heat, saved. She, heartfelt, shared his soul. With/Without Wherewithal? Where? Wealth? What? Worry? Wrought. Wonder? Once. Who Who are you, to stake such a claim? Who are you, to think yourself an expert? You, with your self-appointed mastery. You, an embarrassment. You, a fool. Akin It was akin, what I felt. Not quite same, not quite different. A variation of, perhaps? A sibling to? I thought. No. Maybe. Yes. Teh Writre Teh Writre wrtoe. Nto alwysa mking snese, Btu alwysa mking ues fo snese. Adn sneses. Unique Can one ever truly, Be unique? We all have, Uniquities. Don’t we? If we are, All unique, Then are we? Eight Billion Eight billion minds, personalities, souls. So many. Makes you think that, There must be one who would get you. If-then, why not? Some of the poems were experiments with using the same letter(s)/sound, some were based purely on personal thoughts/feelings, and some both. The first one, "Speech," actually was going to be another story but with only words starting in "S." After two or three sentences, I decided it may work good as a poem, so I finished and then edited it. I'll probably write some more poems (and stories) today, which will be posted later. - Theory

Choice Amber didn’t know how to proceed. Who would? Much less someone who hadn’t thought about it as much as they should. Amber had told herself she would consider both options, that had been weeks ago. She had thought that would be plenty of time. But then the days had slipped by, and…here she was. Some days I only write one or a few stories, but next post (which should be posted in a few minutes) will have lots more! (Including some poems, which I've rarely written before this.) - Theory

I like it!

Unfortunately, there seemed to be a lot of depressing stuff.... soo...yeahhh... Edit: what do you see when you follow someone here? Like notifs or anything?

Thank you! Really appreciate it! Yours is pretty neat, Aki. Like the Colors! Honestly I'm not too good at rating...so I guess 7/10 too!

depends.

I decided to post another set of stories today so that I can finish catching up tomorrow. Ready He was ready. He had packed supplies, made numerous plans, and waited for this moment. As the metal beast continued descending, heedless of the skyscrapers, he went through the plan one more time. First, he would find a way inside the vessel. The rest of the plan would crumble like those buildings if he didn’t. Since the ship was landing, that would make getting onboard easier. Of course, he had made plans and contingencies for every scenario he could think of, but this was one of the easier methods. As those around him at last began to register what was happening—others continuing to stare, frozen, at the majestic sight bringing ruin—he walked toward it as they fled in terror. Renewed Two hours later, Peter started, lifting his head from where it rested across his arm. When had he fallen asleep? He was still at his desk, though it was raining more heavily now. Panicked, Peter checked the time: 6:19pm. He thought about grabbing dinner at the dining hall, but wasn’t fond of getting drenched. Plus, the thought of wasting more time made him anxious. Instead, he found a granola bar lying under a stack of papers—wasn’t he supposed to finish reading those by tomorrow?—and unwrapped it, then took a bite. Peter set down the granola bar and turned on his laptop, back to the familiar blank page where his essay should be. He swallowed the bite, taking another, and was surprised to feel a new sense of vigor. Maybe that unintentional nap had done him some good? Peter smiled—actually smiled—and hovered his hands over his laptop’s keyboard. For the first time in five days, Peter knew what to write his essay on. He started typing. The Program She was glad to have made the program output its progress. Otherwise, she would have no way of knowing if it would be done in an hour, a day, or a week. Time Left: 000:00:01:30 | Progress: 99.993% She sat eagerly at her desk, watching the seconds count down. It had taken her over a year to program—her largest project yet—but she had been dreaming it up and really working on it for much longer. Unfortunately, it also took forever to run—even with all the optimizations she had added. The program had been running nonstop on her custom-built PC for over two weeks now. Time Left: 000:00:00:42 | Progress: 99.997% She leaned forward, closer to the monitor. Less than a minute left. She just hoped it would work. This was the second time she had run the program—the last time had taken three weeks and had ended up having several bugs. She had tried to fix them, but new errors often cropped up after you thought you fixed them all. What’s another two weeks? She thought, trying to convince herself it would not be too bad if the program failed. Truth was, she had hardly gone an hour in the last two weeks without checking on the program, if only to experience the pleasure that came from seeing that the progress had ticked up half a percent. Time Left: 000:00:00:04 | Progress: 99.999% She waited the last few seconds, shaking with anticipation. This was it, she hoped. The product of many years’ dreaming. Attention Carla couldn’t focus on what her Chemistry teacher—Mr. Ackner—was saying. Zack hadn’t come to school in days, nor had he texted her. The night he had vanished, Carla had heard a crash, and found her mailbox and garbage cans knocked over, with tire paths along the grass in front of her home. The signs added up. Zack had been kidnapped. Obscured by Smoke I watched the landscape—obscured by grey smoke—from above. What had caused this? Last time I was able to see the vast forests, deserts, oceans, and civilization. Now, I could only see that in some areas—at least from afar. Closer in, I could see all that was still present. Except here. The River Lewis came to a stop where the ground became a steep slope down to the river. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the figures grow closer by the second. The river was fairly calm, and someone could swim across without much trouble. Only Lewis couldn’t swim. Andddd that's it for today. Tomorrow, I'll be posting the stories I wrote yesterday, today, and those I'll write tomorrow. Kinda confusing lol. Anyway, stay tuned for some poems I wrote earlier today!! (Which will be posted tomorrow lol).

Was as in dead? Otherwise, Navani maybe?

Note: I am reposting this since I accidentally published it out-of-order. A Different Life Everyone moved slowly except for Lucy. They had done so for as long as she could remember, and had grown accustomed to it at this point. She sat, sketching the scene of the lecture hall before her, as the professor slogged through the lesson on character development, one word at a time. With so much more time than everyone else, Lucy had explored and developed several interests—from art to writing and reading. She felt as if she lived in a different world than everybody else. It got lonely. The Shadow The group looked up and it was there, standing before them, face turned down to peer at them. It was seven or eight feet tall and practically a shadow in the night air, save its face—that was something else. It was a mess of tomato-red bumps, with dark crimson in the valleys between them. Two dark holes—near the edges of its face—resembled eyes. The Shadow advanced on them in a sudden motion, and, as the group turned to flee, the Shadow formed an arm of similar texture to its face and—with impossible reach—seized one of the friends by the head. Note from Theory: in the following story, "Not Sorry", the bold text is meant to represent "dialogue" in a monospace font such as Courier New, but - do to the limitations of this forum - that was not possible (to my knowledge). The best text styling to convey what I intended by choosing monospace that I can think of is SMALL CAPS, but it is honestly easier to just use bold and italics. Not Sorry Did you...accomplish the task? …yes…yes I did. Good, good. Next, I want you— Next!? But you said— You and I both know that what I said is not relevant. Don’t you even…even care about the people you…the people you… Sometimes, yes. But ultimately I am not sorry. It needed to be done. CAUTION: The following story contains a creepy and murderous clown. The Clown The clown’s smile was the first thing that actually unnerved Roy in this place. The clown's teeth were yellow and rotting, with hints of red on them. Roy took a step back. “What’s wrong? Did I scare ya?” the clown said, sitting up and taking a step toward Roy. “Well, good. You oughta be.” The doors slammed shut behind Roy, and the clown reached into his pocket. “Wow, that was actually pretty scary,” Roy said, relaxing as he realized this must be all part of the haunted house. “Oh, you thought that was scary?” the clown said, giggling, as he pulled out a bloodstained butcher knife—how did that fit in his pocket?—and chucked it straight at Roy. More tomorrow! - Theory

Thanks to both! I'll give yours an 8/10 too, I love all the colors.

=== EDDIE'S WORDS === +++ Table of Contents +++ Page 1 of 5 1 . "Auditions" 2. "Worth It" 3. "Words" 4. "D and Wyn" 5. "Depressing: Prologue" 6. "Depressing: Chapter 1"? 7. "Kyran" 8. "The Girl in the Mirror" 9. "Time" - Poem 10. "A Thousand Tears" - Poem 11. "Ifs" - Poem 12. "Talin and Ace" - Part 1 13. "Myths" 14. Lies - Poem 15. "Griffin and Krystal" 16. "Talin and Ace" - Part 2 === EDDIE'S WORDS === +++ Table of Contents +++ Page 2 of 5 17. "Talin and Ace" - Prologue 18. "Talin and Ace" - Part 3 (?) 19. Talin and Ace: The Argument 20. Talin and Ace: Ace 21. Family 22. Traitors 23. "Home" 24. Riding Alone 25. Apology 26. "Goodbye" - 1 27. "Beep" - 2 28. "Ani and Scales" - 3 29. "Mask" - 4 30. The Witch - 5 31. The Witch (Poem Ver.) - 6 32. "Our Path" - 7 33. Power - 8 === EDDIE'S WORDS === +++ Table of Contents +++ Page 3 of 5 34. "Podcast" 35. Helpless 36. "I Dreamed a Dream" 37. Queen 38. Prisoner 39. "Liz" - Prologue 40. "Liz" - Part 1 41 . "Liz" - Part 2 42. "I-Don't-Want-to-Read-This-Because-it-Seems-Depressing" - 1 43. "Mina" - 2 44. "Was-in-a-Status-Update" - Part 1 - 3 45. "Was-in-a-Status-Update" - Part 2 - 4 46. Blood 47. Gratitude - Poem 48. Poison === EDDIE'S WORDS === +++ Table of Contents +++ Page 4 of 5 49. Monster 50. By Faith - Poem 51. "Liz" - Part 3 52. "Liz" - Part 3.5 53. Older - Poem 54. Once 55. Within a Wish 56. In the Dark 57. Look - Poem 58. After - Poem 59. Dancer 60. Chorus - Dancer Part 2 61. To Siylna - "Liz" 62. From Mari - "Liz" 63. And If - Poem 64. Strings - Poem === EDDIE'S WORDS === +++ Table of Contents +++ Page 5 of 5 How do I order the Liz stories? You mentioned they aren't really sequential, correct?

The Essay Peter stared mindlessly at the blank white screen before him. He hadn’t moved in an hour. He knew he had to finish the essay by tonight, and it was already nearing evening. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything. He decided to take a short break. Maybe a walk around campus would do him some good? And so, Peter strolled on the rainy day on the concrete walkways of his university campus. He tried to enjoy the fresh air, but found his mind returning to the to-be-written essay. He should be working on it now… Time was running out, he had put off the paper for too long, thinking he could just do it later. Feeling no better than he had when he’d left, Peter trudged up the steps to his dorm room. He briefly considered simply not doing the essay, but he didn’t see himself as that type of student, and he doubted it would make him feel any better. Peter had written essays like this before; he knew he could do it. That didn’t make it any easier. Peter slumped back into the spinning chair at his desk, opened up his laptop, and resumed his staring. Only one story this day, but the next one (which should be published about a minute after this one) has more! - Theory

Ah, yes. Another on my to-read shelf... Haha, cool. Thanks for the tip!

Nice nickname, Rue. Btw I love your username, it just sounds really good. I think this one is my favorite. It just sounds intriguing. (I couldn't move the quote box on my phone, so this sentence and quote is kinda out-of-place) Thanks for the prompts! I think I've had some trouble with the continuation lately. Namely coming up with a plot or something, since if the story is part of a larger story, the character actually needs to so something. I guess I can try/continue writing the stories and seeing where the character ends up, if you catch my drift.

Omg same! A bunch of my stories were based of a word in a song title or lyric I was listening to, or I looked around me for some inspo, or, two especially, was a specific feeling that I really wanted to get down in the writing. Im the past few days I've had less inspo than the first three (I've been writing for about a week)... so yeah, the prompts would be appreciated, whenever you have the time. I'll have to read some more of your works if/when i make that list. i bet...

Also...I've started writing some stuff recently if you don't mind taking a look, the link is in my siggy. They're way shorter than yours - 100-300 words each. P.S. would you mind if I compiled a list of all the stories on this thread and put them in a post here or something? Like with an index that links to each one, with the title and maybe genre(s)? I may not do get to it...but I wouldn't mind tbh. Not really busy.

Kal?

Demoux?