the writers' corner!

Blegh

Little Mouse
a beautiful person gone,
a beautiful angel now
i hope you're doing well in heaven
i wonder how things are there
do the angels brush your hair
and sing you sweet melodies?
are you finally at peace
i wish you'd visit me once more in my dreams

i miss you.
- f . g ( my intials )
 

Chlomaki

Former EN Community Manager
What do you wish?
What would you like to be granted?
A story to be unfold,
An ending to be told,
And a journey with the price of gold.

Shall I take your soul,
But where would you go?
Hold our separated hands,
Tie them together
And refuse for our love to
Become bland.

O’ darling,
Fears as clear as your eyes,
Peaceful wishing arise,
Let us not wander too deep
Into the world
Of untruthful myths
And violent lies.

A rarity to be formed,
Locked upon one’s smile
Protection promised
But shall not always happen.
Become not an instrument
To be played with countless,
But a voice with a bright glimmer
And nostalgic lecture.

Hold us,
Tie us,
Depart,
But our stories
Shall reside with our memories
And become as vast
As the forests that we traveled
And the seas we sailed
Across the night sky

With stars waving their goodbyes.
i actually don't know the exact meaning of this poem i made, and it has nothing to do with me or my experience. all my poems come from thoughts, improvisation, ideas, or my emotions. what this means can depend on your perspective. it does not need to be right or wrong, because there is no such thing when it comes to poetry.
 

Cryaotic

¡Ándale! ¡Ándale!
What do you wish?
What would you like to be granted?
A story to be unfold,
An ending to be told,
And a journey with the price of gold.

Shall I take your soul,
But where would you go?
Hold our separated hands,
Tie them together
And refuse for our love to
Become bland.

O’ darling,
Fears as clear as your eyes,
Peaceful wishing arise,
Let us not wander too deep
Into the world
Of untruthful myths
And violent lies.

A rarity to be formed,
Locked upon one’s smile
Protection promised
But shall not always happen.
Become not an instrument
To be played with countless,
But a voice with a bright glimmer
And nostalgic lecture.

Hold us,
Tie us,
Depart,
But our stories
Shall reside with our memories
And become as vast
As the forests that we traveled
And the seas we sailed
Across the night sky

With stars waving their goodbyes.
i actually don't know the exact meaning of this poem i made, and it has nothing to do with me or my experience. all my poems come from thoughts, improvisation, ideas, or my emotions. what this means can depend on your perspective. it does not need to be right or wrong, because there is no such thing when it comes to poetry.
The title makes me think about people separating each other
When you separate yourself with a title, like said before, you ally yourself closer to others
So even though you are separating yourself, you're bringing yourself closer to other people
I also see hints of reality, this poem is amazing and it made me think a lot
I don't even know if I can fit all my thoughts into this post about the poem, I might be able to later if I remember to edit this post
In reality, things come and go. Nothing ever stays, things you love or connect to will leave you at some point
But because of these things, they form who you are
I don't think I explained it right at all, I most likely didn't because I can barely focus on what I'm thinking about, my mind is a mess right now
"'O’ darling,
Fears as clear as your eyes,
Peaceful wishing arise,
Let us not wander too deep
Into the world
Of untruthful myths
And violent lies.'"

Reality, man
I would elaborate but my mind right now is so jacked because there are friends in my house and they keep talking
 

Chlomaki

Former EN Community Manager
The title makes me think about people separating each other
When you separate yourself with a title, like said before, you ally yourself closer to others
So even though you are separating yourself, you're bringing yourself closer to other people
I also see hints of reality, this poem is amazing and it made me think a lot
I don't even know if I can fit all my thoughts into this post about the poem, I might be able to later if I remember to edit this post
In reality, things come and go. Nothing ever stays, things you love or connect to will leave you at some point
But because of these things, they form who you are
I don't think I explained it right at all, I most likely didn't because I can barely focus on what I'm thinking about, my mind is a mess right now
"'O’ darling,
Fears as clear as your eyes,
Peaceful wishing arise,
Let us not wander too deep
Into the world
Of untruthful myths
And violent lies.'"

Reality, man
I would elaborate but my mind right now is so jacked because there are friends in my house and they keep talking
man don't worry about it! like i said there's no right or wrong in this, and it's all based off of your own perspective! like i said, when i wrote this i didn't have an actual meaning in mind. in fact, sometimes i do write like that and i end up analyzing my own poems. but your view on this is very interesting, so thank you for sharing it with me!
 

Jealousy

Little Mouse
You have your relevant people,
then your irrelevant people,
going around stealing heart's out of people's chest,
that's the only thing you know, so you do your best,
I'm not sad nor disappointed
But you're not trying to fix my disappointment
stabbing knives,
into our lives,
you better think twice,
and take my advice,
Irrelevant people don't get far in life,
a life, you're going to miss
you're now stuck in the abyss
not knowing what to do
you cry about her,
But do she really cry about you?
If you think your heart is going in the right direction, look at your heart, and at your reflection,
she's tearing you apart,
Don't you see that girl is irrelevant?
 

Rolls

Active Mouse
In the night
I like to think
About all the mights
You promised love
But I was right
You were just another
Coming along for the fight
To dim the light
To test my bite
You're cruel downright,
And you said it'd be alright,
But all in all, you were only there
To excite.
 

Jocieo

Shaman
this is shit lol but
would you give me more time
or maybe a dime
if i could be the one you wanted
and if not i could be haunted
if i could love you more
now it's just a chore
if i could still call you baby
it's a maybe
maybe not
our love will rot
through time
it's like i've commited a crime
i love you
i wish you would, too
 

Aesthetic

MAH CHEESE!
I didn’t remember falling asleep. I only remembered waking up to a blinding, but welcoming, fire and grunting coming from the left of me. My head was pounding, feeling as hollow as wood as I sat up. Pain seared through my ribs and back, probably bruised from my fall, and took in my surroundings.
The walls and floors around me were decorated in snowflakes, much like my home, but also not. The room I was in was like nothing I’d seen in my father’s house; there was carpet trailing along the floor with flecks of sawdust sticking up from the tangles like little weapons. A meat and fur rack was held in the leftmost corner, near the fireplace in the centre of the wall. An old clock and a few portraits were scattered along the mantle, and snowflakes dotted the windows behind me like lights. Like the pillar lights in the ball. I shuddered and finally looked towards the source of the grunting.
Jac.
I stumbled over my long list of curse words as I stared at him. The long, long, long line I had made for the person who had ridden behind me was instantly forgotten as I took in the state of him.
Jac’s hair which had been smoothed over was, once again, rugged and streaked with… red. My blood. His once gorgeous tuxedo was covered in splodges of browns and reds which stood out against the blues and whites, his tie askew and his jacket crinkled. His matching trousers were of the same effect; reds and browns. The red rose that had stood at his lapel was gone, and that’s when I felt something dig into my ear as I reached up to grab it; it was his rose.
I looked into his eyes, taking in the steady embers that were held there for eternity. They were shadowed with worry, but also with relief as he said, “I brought you here as soon as I could. Your head didn’t take well to the fall, but everything else is fine. Oh, and I burnt your dress.”
“That was my mother’s dress, you pig!” I cried, lifting my gaze towards the burning embers. When I looked back with the same embers roaring inside my eyes, I noticed his upturned mouth. “Prick.”
He chuckled as he faced the fire, watching the ashes bounce off the carpet. “It’s upstairs, drying off. You look better in your undergarments anyway,” he muttered, eying my reaction. I could’ve sworn a glint of sympathy shone in his eyes, but it flashed away before I could register it. I sighed and leant back against the arm of the couch and fingered the patterned cushions beside me. The sound of snowflakes dropping on the thin windows was the only sound in the brooding silence. My head raced with thoughts of what happened, of what I would do. I couldn’t go back, not when I was going to be sent to the Madhouse.
“Rhy,” he said, making me jump at the sudden disturb in the silence. “Do you want to go back to your father’s house?”
The calmness, the gentleness, in those words shocked me still. He was giving me a choice. Why?
“I-I don’t know,” I replied meekly. “He’ll send me away, to the Madhouse, if I do.”
Jac only nodded, his face revealing nothing except possible contemplation. His fire-born eyes traced the outskirts of the room, and then the bitter world outside before asking, “Why would he?”
I told him everything that night. Things I expected he didn’t know, and certainly looked the part if he did. I told him about the nightmares, about how I wake up screaming and sobbing, trying to attack whatever it is that lurks in the depths of my head. His eyes slowly widened with every new piece I told him, until his golden iris was fully visible. By the end of it, I was close to sobbing. I’d never told anyone that information before, and to get it out in the open, to finally voice it…
“I-I’m so sorry, Rhy. If I’d have known I would have refused the marriage, the party, all of it. I’m-”
I shook my head softly, my hair acting as curtains as I patted his shoulder before curling up on the couch. Apologies wouldn’t get anyone anywhere now. It was too late. I just decided to stare guiltily at the slowly dying fire, letting my thoughts consume me before drifting off into a deep, heavy sleep.
+ + +​
My mare beneath me snorted with her breath curling in front of her towering figure. Her mane and tail had been washed and brushed this morning with the supplies in the stable behind the building Jac and I had stayed in; a cabin of sorts. I thought she may as well look presentable.
I’d opted to wear cream coloured pants and a white sweater to rid home in, as there’s no chance I’m going back in that dress. I had a rose coloured cap thrown hastily over my shoulders, the hood thrown over my pale face. I’m a monster to these people, I’d said in spite of Jac’s protesting. They won’t want to see me.
Rhy, you’re the daughter of the richest man in the village,
he’d protested, they won’t care.
But they will, Jac. As I have such a high standing in society, more would be expected of me than to faint at an “engagement” party and start writhing at nothing!

That was that. He hadn’t protested about it since. Instead, he’d kept quiet; too quiet for my liking. I’d tried starting conversation to fill the void, but it never lasted long. We had separate interests, and we didn’t like talking about businesses. So I decided to take in the wood around us;
The pine trees, which were sodden from the snow and glazed with ice, shone in the early morning sun like faerie lights at a carnival because of the flakes of snow falling onto and around them. Snow coated the ground beneath us, crunching and churning with every step our mares took. Wind sharper than a knife sliced for us from under our hoods, our cloaks, marring out our fingers and toes through our protection along with shoving flakes of snow and ice into our hair and eyes.
The horizon was barely visible, and Jac’s voice was barely audible as he said that the village was just up ahead. I had to take his word for it. Try as I might to find something interesting around me, I could only see Jac in front of me. A sigh escaped my lips. I’m going to have a few cups of hot cocoa when I get in, I thought as the wind clawed at my face with invisible talons.
A flickering light danced in the distance in front of us as we neared the village, still pouring with people from the Winter Solstice. The smells of the food had returned to normal after I’d woken up in the cabin; mouth-watering meats and spices, all rich with flavour. My stomach growled like a lion, and I had to keep my focus pierced on Jac’s back to stop myself from easing off of my horse and buying something to fill my pit of a gut. The banners of the Solstice still hung up from streetlights as the wind pushed into them, causing them to rock and sway and flap.
My father’s house towered before us, and it took all of my remaining effort to not stop and head away, in the opposite direction.
 

Chlomaki

Former EN Community Manager
time to post this again because of an accidental double post :(...
How unfortunate,
Oh how fortunate,
But yet both intertwine
Cross their borders
To exchange a glass of wine.
Everything comes with a payment,
Your life,
Your words,
Your actions,
Your compassion,
Your happiness,
And even your soul.
Everything.
Ask for a bird’s wings,
But you can only get two helpers
And 10 fingers.
Count one by one,
And each will both appear and disappear.
Count and count,
But you still cannot become one who can seer.

Calamity is what you avoid,
But danger follows you
Even in the darkest of voids.
Money is what you request,
But you must commit even
A small crime
To trade your sins in just for a single dime.
How desperate, oh yes how desperate.
Dandelions that sway but end up flying
Into the distance of dismay.
How unfortunate,
Oh how fortunate.
Guilt becomes your heart’s companion,
But truly
Do you want to be rid of it?
Ha, what an idiot.
Don’t you know
That pain is the way of
A seed who must achieve to become
Even far more superior
Than all the other trees?

Lower your guard,
And then comes a bombard.
But keep up your barrier,
And you’ll overanalyze
Even the gentle
Of ripe fruits.
What comes right,
Follows along with wrong,
However both can only be determined
By a person’s perspective
And view of what the circumstances
Have become.

Hope for one to not fade away,
Leave your side and go the other way
Tell me;
Is that truly love,
Or has it become a grown obsession
To not be able to let go of even those
Who yearn for peace and freedom?
Or is it both,
A strong,
But yet a distasteful combination.
Now, ask yourself;
What has become of this love that grew?
What came from the obsession that possess you?
I cannot answer that for you,
Nor can you answer it yourself
Until you find
Even the smallest of clues
To support the mystery
And become one like glue.
What is your conclusion?
Do you think fortune is the best?
Do you consider unfortunate to be complete chaos?
How unsatisfying,
Oh how gratifying.
Or so,
You thought.​
another one, but this time it's more like a story with a bit of poetry.
idk, it's not that great. i just made this out of boredom and im not too proud of it.
______“Hey, will you awake from your slumber?”
I heard it.
I heard the calls of nature, pushing me slightly to awaken me from what was once sleep.
How odd,
How suspicious.
Is this a dream? A fantasy? Or an actual reality, only to be separated by other cruel beings?
Ha, I wish.
But there is no such thing, because each one of us has committed a sin. Many sins. We do it purposely, or unintentionally. Though, we cannot live a life without mistakes. We cannot live a WORLD without CONFLICT. We cannot live a fairy-tale without a violent dragon.
______“Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve cause destruction to our green, precious grass. Could you please arise?”
Confusion took me over. Wouldn’t I still be able to cause even more disaster by lifting my weight, due to my feet that need to be supported by ground? But then it hit me. I looked down, but I couldn’t even see half of me. What was this? What is this? What has become of my being and appearance?
______“A soul becoming one with a ghost, transparent as you may seem, at least that’s what other so-called flowers have been pressuring into your thoughts. And so I see, you’ve chosen this route, my young weakling?”
Who could she be to call me as such?
What is she implying with those mysterious subtle words, or maybe it’s clear but my hearing has been drowned out by the sea.
______“My apologies, but you do not BELONG here. You do not belong anywhere, do you not see? Your color has no shade, no emotion. You’ve been put to hell even in the greatest parts of your dreams.”

Then, once again it strike me with a strong bolt.
Who was this person speaking to me?
I was set into a pit of numbness, and I couldn’t even feel the slightest bit enraged at their words that seemed to come out as harsh and insulting, but soft and condescending. It was an odd mix.
I couldn’t even see the person
And that was because
I was stuck in my own imaginary void,
A place I created to lock myself away from evil that attempts to haunt me, and then most of the time successfully taunts me.
______“Get me out.”
I spoke.
This person was not real,
But then they were real.
Why?
This fragment of my imagination
Was ME.

___________________________
OH BOY, ANOTHER ONE EVERYBODY!!! THIS TIME IT'S A POEM!!

Do you believe
In the names of murder?
A victim,
with fatal wounds
Only for the knife
to be the cause of death?
Then, let me ask you this;
What if I were a murderer?
What if
I had told you that
I killed somebody
cold-blooded,
merciless,
but left with only a hint of slight regret?

No?
Wouldn’t care?
What if
I told you then
that somebody else
had murdered a person,
no regrets
no hesitation,
and it was a relative of yours?
Would you care then?
Well?
I thought so.
Now, what if that person who had been
your closest friend
had done that cruel
horrifying thing
That you could never imagine,
not even a second?
That’s right, conflicted emotions get in the way,
and after all
It always depends on the person
and how long
they’ll stay
and how long
they’ll last
and how long
they’ll focus on the past.

A white purity of a rose,
now painted
with red nail polish
has become your worst
nightmare,
because the red starts to dry
and then the flower begins to wilt
and all that’s left
Is the petals that
will not forever last
unless it was to be contained
In a secure glass.
However,
it will become stagnant
just like the body
found on the night
of the gunshots
that had fooled others
on the 4th of july.

Death,
fear overpowers us
when we hear the word
“Death”
even those who may
not realize it.
Death,
most wish for it,
but then they
take back their word
within the second.
Life,
Life is death.
Life is our death.
Life becomes our obstacle,
and then death becomes our savior.

The murderer,
who showed impropriety
after the façade
had been taken
and their mask
has been stolen.
You can manipulate,
you can fool,
you can use clever tricks,
but you still cannot always
escape the beginning of a ditch
because you leave yourself behind,
even if your body moves to the end
the clues you leave
are always stuck
to the place of
where you began.
 
Last edited:

Neurological

MAH CHEESE!
School, I used to think that ever since I decided to change that they would learn to accept me as a person, causing no more issues for anyone...
Oh, who am I kidding? Even as a somebody who's now approachable, it's unlikely they'll be able see my differently, not after what I had done before...
---------
...True, school's not all bad and the subjects I go into are really enjoyable as well as the supportive teachers but, the only trouble for me is the pupils;
Everyone looks like they've fit in with the rest while I'm left as the 'odd-one-out', the person who's 'REALLY STRANGE' and distant everyone else, the person who acts divergent everywhere they go...

I still feel ashamed to this day...if only I could do better for myself...rather than just let myself fall into other people's traps; I can still feel their laser eyes targeting me from behind and piercing my soul, burning and slashing it with embarrassment, like vultures eyeing on their prey, waiting, waiting until the moment is right... They're critics on my every move, wanting to see me in pain and for them to see me as a sort of joke, 'not to be taken seriously'.

SUCH HYPOCRISY HAPPENS HERE, THEY CAUSE TROUBLE AND FEEL THE PRAISE FOR IT ALL BUT WHEN IT'S ME WHO FALLS UNDER THE BANDWAGON AND IS TRAMPLED, I'M THE ONE WHO THEY LAUGH AT, THE MESS, AND WHO THEY DECIDE TO 'TRY' ENFORCING THE RULES ON ME WHEN IT RARELY EVER HAPPENS!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So I can't be myself? I can't be the person that people view as a failure? Is this how you see me now, nothing more than just an alien, a foreigner?
Well if you can't take me for who I am, then you have no right to judge me like that and to just shove myself into the gravel and run me down...

Can't take the honest truth? Go play with the rest, 'try' and fit in yourself... I'd rather be myself than be as toxic as you turned out to be..

So you play your rules, and I'll play mine...
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This was just an idea I got from school, a slight vent on my past but now things have slightly changed/cleared up; However, there are some things that haven't, the way others just stare intimidates me severely sometimes, and I'm sometimes conscious at the fact that other's are judging me without myself knowing.

This isn't as descriptive or has as much quality like the last post I did on 'NIGHTMARES' but I still hope you enjoy reading this :)
 

Gryphon

MAH CHEESE!
AU : Hanahaki Disease.

Flowers are beautiful. They shine like stars and fall like feathers. A unique work of art we're blessed to have. Though sometimes those flowers aren't a blessing. They can be a curse as well. For some people; When the flowers fall, they come with something else. No happy smiles or shining moods, instead a darkness from the heart that effects anyone during lifetime. Sadly though, some people aren't lucky enough to overcome this.

Hanahaki disease. A disease caused by one-sided love. When someone you love doesn't love you back. It hurts, it's painful. The knowing and feeling of this hurtful thing effects everyone, especially the people who are overcome with this sickness inside of them. When the one they love doesn't love them, they puke up the lovely flower petals. It might seem pretty an unreal, but it's a sorrowful thing. The only way for this illness to leave forever is to get surgery and the falling petals will stop, but the feelings will being removed along with the petals.

Is puking up bloody flower petals worth losing the one you have feelings for? The pain and misery for someone you care for? A simple crush, affection for someone who will never feel the same. Most will choose to pick the surgery and get rid of the petals and feelings. Not because they're weak or greedy, but because they can't face the feeling of the flowers reminding them of the one they loved most. Every spill of blood and petals, it reminds the poor people of the love of their life. It's a cruel, sad life for them until they take the surgery. When finished, their crush is now removed from their mind forever.

And yet, for the ones who are too in love to get rid of the sickness, the effects will get worse. The petals, blood, weak hearts and body all will become more severe than before. It will stay that way for days, weeks, months. Until the heart is consumed completely by the flower petals. Their bodies will suddenly collapse with their breath heavy and eyes watering. Even if they're rushed to a hospital immediately the heart will stop and then it's all over. One less person on the Earth until another is born seconds after. The petals and blood covering the person's mouth, eyes, and chest. There's nothing else to be done except to get rid of the poor person who was too in love to get the needed surgery.

And that life dies and is then forgotten. They will be a distant memory that will still be cried over after many years. Their crush will suddenly feel pained over something and when they find out about the death, tears will fall. Because this life and disease is cruel and hurting, and it can never be stopped.

END.
 

Chlomaki

Former EN Community Manager
new poem y'all!
Little young boy caught red-handed,
Little boy,
Little young boy caught red-handed,
Little boy.
Painting on your canvas of crime,
With crimson that stained your treasured dime
And now, you can no longer tell time.
Little boy O’ young boy, caught red-handed
Your eyes of complete solitude
And your fake gratitude
With your tough attitude.

Little boy,
Oh how she said she loved you dearly,
Young boy,
Oh how he loved you so terrifyingly.
I can see your blood spill,
Your desperateness for green
Almost a requiem for the losses.
Body bags dumped in the dead leaves
That could not bear the season
That had given up their trees
And left all what could be.
Little boy,
What have you done?
Young boy,
Now she’s gone!

The painting
Soon finishing its last parts
By the artist who once broke hearts.
Whispers of uneasy voices,
Sight of sinners living by fortresses.
Play the music box,
Even as wretched as it may be,
Broken as it may have gotten,
Twisted as it may sound,
all the souls that you’ve found
are not living under the devil’s grounds
but are all left in that very same pound.

It’s louder
But yet so distant
A cold touch that is consistent.
Told your story,
Unfolded your dream
Became a nightmare
You’ve fell for reality’s scheme.
Left isolated,
Fear is all you can hear
Because your eyes are stained
By the crimson you painted
On that very same canvas
Created by the mime.
Little young boy caught red-handed,
But no one knew
What he had really done.

another new one!

her scarlet lips,
curved just like her swayed hips
her wine dress,
her fascinating nail polish
her soft, candy lipstick
tricking another woman’s prince.
how she held her black umbrella,
oh yes how it contrasted with her crimson disguise,
how her green eyes slowly embraced
the so-called enormities.
she sprung loudly yet gently on her ground,
all in range but herself,
all men around but her familiar himself.
faceless, she recalled
though pompous
just like the ghost
who stole her gold.

she fell
into an unexpected homicide
she, intrigued by the bloody knees,
decapitated heads
stained her lace umbrella
with the mixture of anger and no more.
found her encounter fetching,
oh yes the scarlet lady did.
broken mirrors arrival,
looked at her scheme
and now all she has seen
is the wine mistress whom caused a scene.

AND ANOTHER ONE!!!!

the grim train,
passing by on my rainy day,
the street lights
cursing all those who left others in vain.
traffic,
quickening for others but at a loss for my brothers.
the moon, she whispered
and called out to the wanderings’
names.
hibernate, as the sun shall not wake
as the dawn rises from my lake,
but sunset sinks with a take.

left,
one-sided
closer,
and the wind glided
past the horizon
and only one leaf
at a stand.
held in palms,
last of them all,
nostalgia at your fall
and the clock seemingly stalls.

where shall we go,
where shall we explore?
another adventure
but a dark journey of one’s bawling.
take my hand once more,
ride this ghastly train
though appearance taints
it shall not remain the same
because together we are
the night is our war
but not our gore.
 
Last edited:

Aesthetic

MAH CHEESE!
Poem name: Apologise
I'm just sending this before I go today.

Two words, two very simple words,
That I say all too often.
Two words, two very small words,
That hold little to no meaning.

Two words, two very intricate words,
That can change someone's day.
Two words, two massive words,
That can wave someone away.

These two, very small but large words,
Are words I want to use.
These two, very meaningless and meaningful words,
Are words that I need to use.

I apologise, I know it's hard to believe.
I apologise, I know it's hard to see it.
I apologise, I want to make it okay.
I apologise, I don't blame you for waving me away.

I apologise...

I'll probably edit this every now and then with chapters from my new story (gave up on my previous); "The City of Dusk".​
 
Last edited:

Kysa

Cheese Artist
Ok i made this in 7th grade and i'm just retyping it a bit

“Jake! Jake! Please stop running!” I yelled, my eyes burning and tears streaming down my face, my feet growing weaker and weaker. “Slow down!” my face was damp in the humid air with sweat, my lungs on fire and my throat too dry. I looked up and tried to see his black fur in the darkness of the trees, but ii couldn't, my eyes were too blurred from tears.
- - -
a few hours ago
My grandfather’s truck was rolling down the paved dirt path. “They’re here! They’re here!” me and my mom shouted in unison. Everyone was cramped into the living room, the dogs scratching and whining at the windows, “Hey!” my mom said as he walked into the door. Everyone else had been holding the dogs by their collars to hold them back from them escaping out the doors. We had a rule about our dogs, if they ran outside: they'll be gone faster than you can shout their name. Our grandfather did not know that, though.
-
We all decided eventually go to the movies. So my mom and i quickly slipped out the door, but when our guest walked out, he swung the door wide open and slowly made his way out.
Out of the corner of my eye i watched one of the dogs run out of the door and made a run for it into the trees. My stomach dropped and without knowing, i started running after him.
"MOM! JAKE! HE'S OUT!" My breaths becoming more of heavy breaths and racking sobs. "We-WE CANT LOSE HIM!" but i was already too far away for her to hear me.
Before i knew it i was bawling like a child. I didn't want to loose our dog, I loved him.
-
After about a few minutes of running in circles trying to keep my legs pumping. i had collapsed. I tripped over a log and landed harshly and with scratched knees and elbows.
I didn't even know where i was anymore. So i huddles into a crouch and tried to slow my cries. A few minutes later i stood up, and to my surprise i saw him looking at me. Only yards away.
I stared him in the eyes and suddenly my sorrow turned to boiling anger. "THIS IS JUST A DUMB GAME TO YOU ISN'T IT! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW HORRIBLE I FEEL FOR LOOSING YOU!" I snarled.
He looked at me with his dark, reflective eyes, eyes full of no emotion. "JUST A STUPID GAME OF LIFE! ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW HOW TO DO IS EAT AND HOW TO GO USE THE RESTROOM ON TIME!"
That's when i started dashing for him again, but he was quicker. He whipped around and made a beeline for no given point.
-
I eventually found my house again and ran into my mom's arms and cried for half an hour repeatedly saying "It's my fault, It's all my fault."
-
A few days later
He showed up, scratching at the door at 4 am. I woke up and heard him. I opened the door slowely, and took a deep breath in. I threw the door the rest of the way open and wrapped him around the shoulders.
I wasn't sure if i was trying to hug him or keep him from running away, but both would be effective. I buried my face into his neck and cried even more.

 

Warmth

MAH CHEESE!
♡ shooting star

she shone so bright, like a diamond whose iridescence illuminated in the morning sunlight;
and he was a rose. beautiful, yes, but he is imperfect. razor sharp thorns, the will to wilt effortlessly;
she was determined.
determined to save the perfectly imperfect rose.
together, they shone so bright, they dwarfed the sun.
the sun’s beauty could never compare to how strong and brilliant the rose and the diamond were.
they became a shooting star.
a star that illuminated earth so much brighter than any other star was capable of.
yet, they were not aware of just how stunning they were.
on and on the days went, the diamond and the rose were not acknowledged by anyone else but themselves.
that’s all they needed;
each other.
the diamond illuminated the rose; she yanked him out of the darkness with a strange force, one that the diamond nor the rose had ever felt.
that force was love.
a love so strong, so prominent, so blinding;
if only it wasn’t a sickeningly twisted fantasy.
 
Last edited:

Aesthetic

MAH CHEESE!
Chapter 1;
Tobias collapsed onto his bed, hearing the football-covered duvet rustle beneath him. He’d never really been much of a football fan, but his father always insisted on the team Crescent FC. Football was never Tobias’s thing; he was more into art and music. He propped himself up onto his elbows and looked around his room in the darkness.
The curtains behind him were of a velvet material that has roughened over the years, and dulled from a vibrant ocean blue to a soft greyish-green that matched his messy carpet in which was covered with clothes, wires and CDs. The desk beside his bed was chipped; the spots which were once white as snow were now dustier and darker than a storm. It housed a dim, patterned lamp; an MP3 player which was scratched around the edges and a picture of him and his father together after Crescent FC won a match. It’d been snowing that day, and Toby remembered catching a cold soon after the match. Young Toby – he was about twelve years old at the time – had messy brown hair and deep, ocean blue eyes that reflected the sky. He’d been wearing a baby blue, pink and white scarf that represented Crescent FC’s team, and he’d been wearing his dad’s leather and fur coat because he’d forgotten his own in the midst of the rush to get to their seats. Toby then looked to his dad, and he had looked a lot less stressed that day than he does now. He didn’t have the colour of a storm cloud beneath his eyes, and his face wasn’t tight with constant tension. His own hair matched young Toby’s; messy and rough from the wind that had howled through the stadium. Those were the good times, Toby thought with a smile as he stood up with a grunt and moved towards his body mirror on the inside of his open wardrobe door that revealed, what looked like, another dimension of pale clothes and torn jeans and looked into the boy on the other side of the looking glass. He looked tired; tired from school stress, tired from home stress, tired from long nights at Millie’s Corner Shop and tired from constant arguments with his best friend about his new date. His jaw line looked as sharp as a knife, and his eyes were dark with shadowed curtains, the light that had once danced happily in his innocent face dying out slowly with his lips constantly pressed into a thin line of outweighed annoyance for his best friend and misery for the fact that he can’t tell said friend how he feels about it.
A knock came from behind him, making him jump and spin fast enough to see his father, Luka Flynn, peeking through the small crack he’d made in between the open white door and the cracking doorframe. Luka had rough, tangled brown hair that was choppy and short; his golden eyes a representation of the sun and the angels above with its shining colour and vibrancy. He had a small nose; small lips as well as that – but his eyes had always been the largest part of his facial structure. It was like they were always watching, always curious of the world around him. Yet his face and voice were laced with concern and possible fatherly fear as he said, “Hey, buddy. I’m just going out to meet Claire; is that okay?”
“Of course, Dad,” Toby said with a forced smile and a growing lump in his throat. “You don’t have to ask me if it’s okay, she is your girlfriend after all.”
Luka just bowed his head slightly, sounding defeated as he whispered, “I know, I just-I hate leaving you on your own. You know that.”
“Daaaaad,” Toby groaned, earning a light-hearted laugh from his father that made his stomach tumble. Luka had always been soft with Toby; he never yelled or cussed at him. In fact; the last time he did yell was
when Toby had lost Luka’s favourite watch when he was four years old – and Toby knew why he didn’t yell at him anymore.
When Tobias was only a kid, Luka lost his wife to a car crash. Her name had been Katrina Lowe before she’d married Toby’s dad, and she was a gorgeous and talented woman. She had black, frizzy curly on top
of her head that shone like polished obsidian, and her eyes were a bright silver and gold combination that stood out against her dark brown skin; the origin of Toby’s own tan-coloured skin. She had once had a small, ski slope-like nose and lovely pink lips and cheeks. Toby could tell his dad loved her to bits by the way he looked at her; with
shining eyes and a smile that lit up his son’s and his wife’s worlds each time without fail. But one night, she’d gone out to work after a late call from the emergency room at St. Agatha’s Hospital – she was a nurse in training – and had had to take the long way there down to road-works upon St. Agatha’s Drive. It’d been raining for hours before hand, and was still when she left. He remember the feel of her soft lips against his tiny forehead as she told him goodbye, and that she’d read him a bedtime story when she got home. Toby also watched as his parents told each other goodbye with a tender kiss, which, at the time, he thought was disgusting – and showed as such with a small sound that sounded high-pitched and childish, making the two laugh indefinitely before Luka took his son’s little hand in his own large one (which kind of resembled a bear’s paw, compared to his own miniature hand) and lead him to the front room. The two males sat in the room for an hour or two after she’d left, cheering their team on, when they got a call from that same hospital saying Kat was in a critical condition from colliding with a lorry at East End Ave. Toby could remember the look on Luka’s face as the nurse who called explained her condition; he saw it turn from disbelief to confusion to horror to tears in minutes, and he’d had to hang up before crumpling to streaming tears before his seven-year-old boy. They’d hitched a taxi on the way there, his father begging for the driver to get there as soon as possible, and got there a few minutes before Katrina’s heart flat-lined and collapsed. She’d had scratches all over her miniature, beautiful face, and she had a gashing wound on her abdomen that was twice the size of little Toby’s forearm. Luka had shooed him out when Katrina flat-lined, his cheeks wet and his hands shaking. And now, every year on the 20th of August – the day she was officially announced dead – Toby heard his father snap under the pressure and ball for hours on end, begging the Lord above to bring his beloved wife back for the last 11 years. Even now, with dating Claire for the past three years, he still broke. It was like some part of his father would never heal, would never be fixed no matter how much he loved his son and new girlfriend.
Toby’s thoughts were interrupted as Luka tapped his son firmly on the shoulder, his voice a distant rumble he couldn’t understand. He turned and saw Luka reach out a firm hand to wipe away the tears that had absentmindedly started running. “Thinking about your mother again, eh?” he asked, and Toby could only nod in return; he knew his voice would only break and embarrass him – but his father had put his arms around his only child and pulled him close, burying his head in Toby’s roughed up hair and stroking it like an owner and his cat; making repeated shushing noises to calm Tobias’s shaking figure. “If you don’t want me to go out, baby boy, you can say. You know that, don’t you?”
“I want you to, Dad. I want you to have fun,” Toby whispered. He felt his father chuckle into his hair and kiss his hair softly. “Please, Dad.”
“Alright, alright,” Luka sighed. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, anything at all, you ring me. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad.”
Luka stroked his thumb across his son’s cheek, wiping away a remaining tear before turning around and picking up the unnoticed coat he’d dumped on the floor to comfort Toby properly. It made his heart ache as he saw his remaining parent turn around and smile at him with a tenderness that made Tobias fight the urge to run to his father and beg him to stay at home – and he watched his door close, hearing it click shut satisfyingly before trudging towards his bed and collapsing onto it in a sobbing heap.
* * *
He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he knew from the patch of silver that shone through his open curtains that it was midnight at the earliest. Groaning, he uncurled himself from his covers, untangled his fisted hands and rubbed whatever remained of the streaking dampness that had covered his face from his oceanic eyes. A high-pitched cry came from below his window, and he swiftly went to open it to see what it was.
A woman, speared through the abdomen, was lying on her back with crystallized eyes and a stream of ruby red blood pouring out from her parted lips. Her cheeks were flushed red, but paling rapidly, and her chest was falling slower with each breath. Claire. Tobias shot from the windowsill with an urgency and speed he deemed impossible and lunged for his denim coat that was strung along the back of his desk chair. He ripped open the door to his bedroom and sped down the stairs, his heart beating more rapidly with every step he took. By the
time he reached the front door, his heart was pounding in his ears like drums, but he didn’t slow down. He tore open the front door, tumbled outside and down into the alleyway where he saw the woman, only… she wasn’t there. Tobias stumbled backwards with shock, wondering if he’d imagine it. I can’t have, he thought worryingly. I can’t have imagined her… Could I have? Cold hands gripped his wrist and swung him round in the midst of his thinking, and he was met with an eternal, milky smile and a dark eyeless gaze. The sides of its face were carved, making Toby think it once had carved high cheekbones. But no more was that statement true; for it was a skeletal figure he faced. That same skeleton surprised and even impressed Toby a slight bit with a chuckle that was harsher than winter wind and deeper than the blue in his eyes. Confusion must’ve been written all over his face, as the skeleton – without opening his mouth, might I add – spoke; “It’s an honour to finally meet you, my brethren.” Toby could’ve sworn he saw the skeleton’s smile broaden somehow as it gripped the back of his hair, making Toby yield and turn with a sharp cry of pain to see something that made him cry even louder a second time.
He saw Luka and Aiden, his best friend, stumble and fall before him. They were both caked in so much blood and mud that it took Tobias a moment to register who they actually were; if it hadn’t been for Luka’s sun-like, golden eyes and Aiden’s which looked copied and pasted from the midnight sky herself, he wouldn’t have known who they were. Their clothes were torn and dirtied, and their hands were cut and scraped from tripping countless times, he guessed. Tears were welling up in his eyes and he stood before his poor father and friend, willing them to look at him; to talk to him. To say it’ll all be okay.
His father looked up first, and a seed of pure hatred bloomed behind his angelic eyes. At first, Tobias thought it was to the thing, the
it, behind him, but he noticed slowly that his eyes were settled on his son; his only child; himself. Tobias felt a wave of cold go over him, freezing his veins to ice. His father never looked at him like that – ever. Not even when his mother died, not even when he lost his father’s photo or wallet. Never had he ever looked at Toby with such hatred, such evil, in his gaze.
“Dad, it’s me – it’s Toby. Please stop looking at me like that. Please!” Tobias pleaded as his father’s lips curled back in a snarl
towards his only child. What's happening? Toby thought with worry and anxiety and fear. Thoughts ran through his mind at a rapid fire pace, sorting itself into things he might’ve done wrong to upset his father… but nothing came up. His father was still glaring at him like he was a bug that was stuck onto his boot and refused to get off.
And Aiden had joined him.
“Guys, please!” Toby cried, watching as his father and friend started to stand up, still glaring at him as they did.
“You’re a failure, son,” Luka growled harshly. “It’s your fault this happened.”
“You don’t care about either of us,” Aiden proclaimed in response.
Toby could feel his blood course through him at an alarming rate and could hear his breathing turn heavy and fast against his will. This is not happening, he told himself. This is not happening!
“You hear that, brother?” the skeleton Toby forgot existed said behind him, startling him. “Your friend, your own father – they both hate you. That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” Toby’s legs buckled beneath him, twisting his hair in the skeleton’s grip that was oddly strong, all things considered. A cry of pain arose in his throat but died in his mouth, between his teeth. He couldn’t scream, or even so much as say anything. It’s your fault this happened. You don’t care about either of us. “Toby!” he heard his father cry, but it swept over the boy’s head as soon as it was carried off in the wind. Guilt tightened itself around his heart like a serpent, and sorrow was tying his stomach into a knot.
He felt a sharp, metal object kiss his throat with its cold, sharp edge as the skeleton sat next to him, peering into his soul with its eyeless gaze. It wore a finely woven suit of grey, white and black; all of which complimented his own colour of a bleached beige. Its shoes were polished leather, rising at the end with slit in the heel – most likely for the blade that’s now in his bony hand.
“So sorry it had to end like this, old boy,” it sneered as the knife dug deeper, bit by bit with more and more blood pouring out before Toby’s field of vision and pooling before his knees, staining his jeans. A noise rose in the back of his throat as the cut drove through the numbness, then another, and another. Soon enough, Toby was doubling over in agony, but the skeleton kept its grip and kept going.
He remembered screaming just as a warm, rough hand gripped his shoulder.
Awesomex @Awesomex
 
Last edited:

Warmth

MAH CHEESE!
♡ burning heart
(continuation of "♡ shooting star ♡" as it will eventually be a full, published story on wattpad)

and, within that moment, she was a box.

an empty cardboard box.
no meaning, no purpose; nothing.
she was alone.
entirely alone.
she had no one.
no one to talk to,
no shoulder to cry on;
no one to love.
she was no longer a shooting star;
she was a box.
an empty cardboard box.
she never understood how she became an empty cardboard box, but everyone else knew;

her adventures with the perfectly imperfect rose were just a sickeningly twisted fantasy.
 

Sleepyheadx

MAH CHEESE!
I like the idea, rlly sketchy thread.
 

Neurological

MAH CHEESE!
This time I decided to post some descriptive writing I had to do for homework for my English class, and my teacher was really surprised by the quantity but knew I wrote this up longer than expected! A person who I had been sitting next to assessed my work and thought it was really good so I kind of decided to type it up from my book onto this post, I hope you like it as much as they did (or even more than that).
Oh + also we had to use a picture in order to write a description of what we see or an introduction of a story, I chose the second one as it's my strongest point and my imagination is really wide open, there is some description included though.

The picture was of a foggy city with a few figures walking away, hopefully you'll understand it better now that I've told you this :)
This was different from any other city I've ventured through. I mean, they're not all the same right?...
It was night when I first arrived, slowly climbing out of the cab where I had been seated, not forgetting to pay the fee of course, walking alone with the black sky, rarely able to see a star in the midst which made me feel more alone and lost than I hoped for. Only, I could hear the pitter patter of my feet upon the ground slowly growing mute until my footsteps became utter silence. What's going on? I don't understand. My eyes averted from ground to head level, when I abruptly noticed the fog surrounding the city. On entering it, I was enclosed and wrapped around in thick layer of the misty fog. Sliding down my spine, an intense cold switch leaving me in temporary paralysis, I froze in my own self. My voice emitted no sound. Soon I was able to make out the shadows, what had looked to be a group of 4, partially concealed in the warped black cloth which separated us from I. But I couldn't figure out their faces as my sight had been terrible under the dim lighting of the lamps on the street, flickered in a mad panic of my conscience and state of body and mind, as if threatened, at some degree, like a stranger holding a knife at the edge of your throat, so close to clear cutting you but you're somehow still there, yet unable to identify the figure that has been drawn close to you.


The smell slowly shifted to my lungs, a clogging, choking, contagious feeling swallowing down into my soul, intoxicating ever part of my being, numbing me of my livelihood, a hazy and undead feeling. I was swallowing a sift of gunpowder, tar and explosive dynamite all in one, addictive yet detaching, a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Under the influences of the figures, dark and hellish apparitions under me. They approached closer. Closer. I couldn't tell if they were coming for me or to assist me, what was worrying me the most was how I couldn't stop hyperventilating and how I couldn't control my inner anxiety and fear. The city and its blocks were closing in on me, spherical, arching and bending over each other becoming viscous and entangling into each other. Shifting for an escape route out of here, I collapsed, yet awake and free, discovering that they were just normal people, simpletons, but the fog, lingered as something strange and even now I could still sense the chilling pains clinging onto my back, it wouldn't go away...

The city played with my mind, a puppet doll held on high end tightening and tantalizing strings, an advantage for the wistful grey whiff to play with. My heart sunk heavy, knowing that no one would possibly believe me, and my fate of being looked down upon as delusional, crazy, or being psychologically fractured, is a possibility come true.
I changed a few words to avoid any further repetition and to make the story more detailed!
 
Top
"Dev-TR" theme by Soulzone