# Your Favorite Thing You Wrote Today



## Bishop (Feb 20, 2014)

I... have created a thread!!! It shall be a place to post... your favorite sentence/phrase/paragraph that you have written today!

And since today is an unending constant, you can keep posting over and over each time you write something that you like. Share with us! Let us see your glory!

I'll start:

"She remained still and silent, taking the harsh reality of each word punctuated by undue force."

I like that sentence. It's nothing special, but it has a kind of tone to it that I enjoyed.

Your turn! 

Bishop


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## Deleted member 49710 (Feb 20, 2014)

Good thread idea. I was more revising/expanding something older today and then writing a bunch of academic stuff that would thrill nobody here, but my favorite line of the fiction piece I worked on today was:
_
Tuna hotdish is like prevomited.
_
so poignant, so true.


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## Jon M (Feb 20, 2014)

From a few days ago, but ...

We sit together for twenty minutes or so, Mom and I, talking various  mundane things. My attention wanders, outside at first, the February  melt, the snow piled in the shadows of mute things, the stiff bellies of  dead foliage, the naked gray cement — shades darker now than it will be — and the twisted lines of shadows  where branches lean and twist out underneath the sunlight. In my left  hand I hold onto my IV tubing, feeling the durable plastic, moving it  around softly as Mom continues talking so the light catches it, so  beautiful things happen inside of it — a sparkle, maybe, churning to  life there in the saline fluid — the sides of the tube glowing with  strikes of the sun whenever I manage to position it just right.​


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## alanmt (Feb 20, 2014)

> I pour myself a mug of my latest ale. It’s not one of my better batches. Tastes like dirt and rodents. I know from experience that if you drink enough of it, the taste will stop mattering so much. That’s hardly a great hawker’s call.


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## stormageddon (Feb 20, 2014)

That does have a certain ring to it, I must say  quite curious as to what's happening in that story.

Wow, reading over the day's work to find something I could use, I realized just how much of what I write is...not bad, necessarily, but lacking the flair of individualism that distinguishes the best of writers v.v still, I've got a long old life ahead of me (touchwood). If it takes a few decades, it takes a few decades, but I'll find my voice~ sorry! I don't mean to ramble every time I begin a post, and yet I always succeed in doing so e.o
Well, here is today's best effort:

"The old physician departed with a bow of affirmation, walking the stones of the castle as though the world were a silk scarf stretched out before him."

Needs some polishing but I've cheered up on finding that because the story it's part of is actually decent, even by the standards I hold myself to ^-^
It's quite interesting to get an insight into what a writer would pick out in their own work; I imagine a reader would make a very different choice.


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## Pandora (Feb 20, 2014)

_Matters not . . . the absence now, the distance of  miles and lack of time to share.
__ 
The words are gone, no thoughts to take, I can not 'hear' your voice nor feel your smile light mine. 

Matters not . . . I remember you there until we meet again  


__
_


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## popsprocket (Feb 20, 2014)

It has been in my notebook for a week or so, but technically I only found a place for this today.



> "I don't need to be king of the world; I just want to be king of myself."


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## Gargh (Feb 20, 2014)

> The tendrils of mind must spill out into the right environment, the fertile soil of likeness, reflection and understanding; receptive to its waves and enjoying the unsteadiness, even in teaching how to control it, to stem the flow, and to purpose it, harness its strength.



Insightful responses, great thread idea. It will be interesting to see whether people's writing changes day on day, and whether the parts they like vary much. Now if everyone would also kindly log their moods and sleep patterns when posting, I'm sure I could get EU funding


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## T.S.Bowman (Feb 20, 2014)

It's not one sentence..but I like it anyway. 

_    “True enough” she said after a long moment. She shook her head “But there is no way I can be any other way. I have to go out among the people, Brian. It’s important to me that I feel the…” she waved her hands in the air “pulse of this city. I need to know how the city works. How it breathes, so that I can lead it properly. I was entrusted with the care of the city and its people by someone very special to me. I cannot allow myself to disappoint that person. I have to do everything I can, including leaving the palace on my own, to make sure that I am doing the best I possibly can for these people.”   _


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## spartan928 (Feb 20, 2014)

This is cool. Great responses so far with such tiny slivers of something bigger. My imagination is whirring.


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## Riptide (Feb 20, 2014)

“Was that-? Did you just-?” Robinsaid glancing back at the vender and my bulky sleeve. “Steal?
	“Nope, not if anyone cares.” Itook a bite out of it's red crisp skin. The juicy insides filled mymouth as I munched it down into mush and swallowed. “And you don'tcare.”


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## Tiamat (Feb 20, 2014)

"Compliments are insidious things.  On the surface, they're kind words, nothing more.  But they sneak up on you, slither right between the cracks of your insecurities and pop up when you least expect it.  They make you weak, not strong.  They make you fall in love."


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## TheYellowMustang (Feb 21, 2014)

I didn't write it today, but it's from the chapter I'm editing at the moment: 

"Maybe if I could figure out the black and whites of Elizabeth, I’d understand the grays of Blake."

It's one of the few sentences from the first draft that haven't been changed or cut. I like the way it sounds, and how his conclusion sets everything into motion. He'll regret making this decision about 1500 words into the chapter... *tents hands a la Mr. Burns*


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## popsprocket (Feb 21, 2014)

> "You are so broken." she whispered, running soft fingers along a face marred. To the heavens Cal gave a smile fit to break a thousand hearts,
> 
> "How could I be any other way?"


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## stevesh (Feb 21, 2014)

"Every night, he climbs up to the freezer bay and looks at the women."


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## Bishop (Feb 21, 2014)

Todays!

"His body betrayed his nerves, and he could see the sweat that had dropped from his palms glistening off the glow of the touch screen in front of him."


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## Jon M (Feb 21, 2014)

They'd ask for your name and birthday, scan your blue plastic bracelet, a red laser casting your wrist blood red those times when it was late, after sundown and too dark, or early--much too early--when they'd hand your first pills of the day to you in a crushable paper cup--the three yellow Colazals, the Synthroid, Protonix, and sometimes an Ativan on top of it all just to get you levelled out, cruising and stupid once more.


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## thepancreas11 (Feb 21, 2014)

The vines of my terror snaked their way around the neurons of my brain and strangled them of their life blood....I would have liked to ask her name, but there was still the equivalent of a cardiac arrest going on in the bowels of my mind.


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## Riptide (Feb 21, 2014)

She nodded, and pulled out her own cot, cuddling into it. Macro, who had been curled up on the floor, padded towards her, and nestled himself in the crevice of her back.


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## Bishop (Feb 22, 2014)

"She delighted over the boy’s reverence to her, and it embarrassed her how much she enjoyed it. She let him remain that way a moment before reminding him to carry on."

That's today's! 

Bishop


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## Riptide (Feb 22, 2014)

I took her neck in the space between my two daggers and straightened my arms. I used all the reserve strength I had left and let it loose. Her head spun. Her two eyes blending red, as gushes of blood forced through them. The member's mouth opened and closed for words lost in death before she fell over lost to the world as well. Blood splattered my eyes, painting my sight red.


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## Ekriven (Feb 22, 2014)

" 'If you're looking for a job done, even for suspicious actions, don't call nine-one-one, we'll help you with your problems' is the motto" failed Myke to make a haiku "Of the Mad Man's Office".

This line just hit me like a totally real life occurence.


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## Dave Watson (Feb 22, 2014)

I wrote the finishing touches to my second full length novel, the final draft of which I finished today. Was a good feeling!


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## popsprocket (Feb 23, 2014)

> Hitting a man with a closed fist surely hurt, but it did provide significant amounts of satisfaction.


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## Riptide (Feb 23, 2014)

Seth went at me like a wild animal. He had his fist open, and fingers bent in the shape of claws. I sidestepped him as he hurled himself my way. With his back towards me I was able to lift his shirt cuff up and over his head. Seth front flipped by the force of me pulling his shirt. He stayed down.


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## popsprocket (Feb 25, 2014)

> "We don't see the world like he does. But I want to. I want to see what he has planned and I want to see what kind of world he can make. For the sake of that you'll have to excuse any offense given, because it was never my place to allow you a place in someone else's vision of something better than this."


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## Pandora (Feb 25, 2014)

Woke before three am this morning, thinking of Mama, soon after 4 am, brings me to the computer. Mama loved words, her whole life,  her nose in a book, hiding, her whole life, running. I'm at the age now she was when I can recollect well, a meeting of the minds. She used big words as I called them, as my friends called them, challenging us. This long before computers, long before google we would have to get the book out. It's cover soft leather, it was thick, maybe four, five inches thick,  heavy, with pages so fragile and thin. I can see my finger, much smaller, running down the page, spelling the word out to find the meaning she was intending. Suddenly this morning it occurred to me, 50 years later, she might have done the same, searching the book to find the perfect word gifts for the day. What a wonderfully precious thing to do.


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## Bishop (Feb 25, 2014)

Today's!

"He grinned as he felt the cool, early morning air on his naked skin. It felt good to be free."

That's right. Naked.


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## Jon M (Feb 25, 2014)

And so I waited in the small foyer behind several towering windows, gazing outdoors. There had been a couple, colleagues probably, who entered shortly after I did. I had watched them cross the street with a lightness, a hop, in their step, watched with certain terrible feelings in my heart. They were an attractive couple, the woman especially. Both young, so obviously strong and healthy; shiny, well-kept hair; good, clear skin; nice clothes. And there was I, still watching, closer to leering by then, behind the softly tinted glass, dressed in sweatpants but still making an effort at civility with the newly-purchased, dark long-sleeved dress shirt, a full and never-trimmed beard that I had grown over the weeks in the hospital, a plain knit skull cap I'd bought on a whim from one gas station or another, years ago, pulled down over my ears, and my bulky gray winter coat, the one with the tear under the left armpit, the tear that's not too long and probably goes unnoticed by most people, but the tear that makes me feel like white trash whenever I'm in public, the tear that, in my head, everybody notices. And underneath it all, my Prednisone skin, so pale and thin now, the backs of both of my hands starred with small red cuts from my visits home, when my kitten had caught me with her claws--marks of affection, of play, that now were only beginning to heal. The couple passed me in the foyer, their bright voices echoing, and I remember turning away from them at the precise moment when they would have otherwise caught a glimpse of me, my face. But then I turned to watch them ascend the stairs, away from me, feeling nothing in particular, or maybe a specific nothing--the nothing in me left over from my disease, the nothing present after months of illness had so carved me out.


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## popsprocket (Feb 26, 2014)

Ever have one of those moments where it's like "Wow, my protagonist isn't the nicest guy..." ?



> “What’s the tell?” [the prisoner asked]
> 
> Cal smiled, turning back. Men like the bloodied admiral thought they had it all figured out. Instructing them otherwise was enduringly entertaining.
> 
> “It's the practiced arrogance that gives it away. When you look at me it’s not hatred in your eyes, it’s a distinct look that very securely says ‘I am above you’." One hand on the door frame overhead, he drummed his fingers heavily. "When two of us meet, in my experience, one is always left bleeding on the ground.” Cal could feel his grin becoming something savage; he couldn't help it. “And I’m still standing.”


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## TheYellowMustang (Feb 26, 2014)

Today's: 

"There’s nothing quite as relieving as coolly resigning oneself to failure."

I'm just a little unsure of that "oneself," but I try to be careful about using "your"(as in "yourself").


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## spartan928 (Feb 26, 2014)

He was dead but the artifacts of his life were still alive all around the farm; the cattle grazing on tall grass in the north pasture, the barn piled high with bales of hay, the tractor peeking out from the shed, poised and ready to roar into life to plow and harvest and toil. But he was gone and everything seemed to be waiting for him. Even the trees; great oaks and maples lining the enormous fields swaying and roaring in the wind in unison, calling to him to return. Yet despite the aliveness of it all, I knew the farm would slowly die too without him.


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## Deleted member 49710 (Feb 27, 2014)

We lit out for the island, a small outcrop of boulders and stunted pines, their roots struggling down to the ice inbetween. Wind had swept the lake into crisp waves, still and white under the sun; the sky stood above us, immensely blue. On such a cold day. I could tell you I felt nothing--maybe that would be expected, given my plans, that I’d have frozen myself in advance. But let’s be honest, shall we, here at this end of the story. And the truth is I felt an incommensurable sweetness, huge and light, that filled me with certainty, the rightness of my intention.


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## Bishop (Feb 27, 2014)

Had a bit of dialogue today that made me giggle:

"I don't get to fly my own shuttle?"

"Not as long as I'm around!"

Also, I love everyone's posts in this thread, keep it going!

Bishop


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## TheYellowMustang (Feb 27, 2014)

I think this is my favorite from today:

“Oh, you just have that nonchalant, possible-psycho air about you, baby.”


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## bookmasta (Feb 28, 2014)

"They were their own form of invincible in all perceptions of the word."


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## Pluralized (Feb 28, 2014)

Monkey came down the stairs, two at a time, and when he reached the bottom, slipped on a magazine and fell flat on his back like he’d slipped on a cartoon banana peel. Teats just sat there and watched, her soft belly bouncing with near-silent laughter. Monkey moaned and rocked back and forth as Teats pushed another potato chip past her greasy lips. She got up, breathing heavily, and approached Monkey sprawled on the floor. “Get up, you puss.”


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## Riptide (Feb 28, 2014)

I wrote a few poems and this little blip:

I turned the knob and swung the door open. Out floppedMrs. White in all her magnificence... just instead of white she was glittering red. Her face was clawed with knife marks, but cleaned to show enough to identify her. Her white hair hung loose and dyed a nice bloody scarlet color. She was most definitely dead, but it wasn't the body I was looking for.


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## Jon M (Mar 1, 2014)

I remembered Carolyn from PINS floor, Carolyn with the sweetest voice  I’d ever heard, who spoke to me long and freely one afternoon in the  saddest light about her scariest experience as a nurse. I wondered if  that could have been me, too, in the room, paralyzed by everything I  knew and didn’t know, while an embolism moved through my patient’s body  and lodged itself in her lungs and eventually killed her. _Could I be one of the first people in the room, would I know how to help?

_more​


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## Chaeronia (Mar 3, 2014)

The End.


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## Bishop (Mar 3, 2014)

Chaeronia said:


> The End.



That is a great moment!


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## bookmasta (Mar 3, 2014)

As rough as it is and as much as I want to completely rewrite and edit, this what came to my mind first:

 His eyes were glazed over, staring into space. The color had faded from his face. Carter squeezed the wallet in his hand and looked on at Brian Condrey, imaging what his family would be doing right now, probably at home, waiting for their father to pull into the driveway from work. But their dad wouldn’t be coming home tonight, not ever again. No, sometime later, there would be a knock at the door. A grim looking police officer would tell his wife the news, that her husband was dead. She would surely begin to cry and her children would be there, in the living room, asking, “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” And she would have to tell them the truth, that their dad was dead and he wouldn’t be coming home. And just like that, their peaceful family of four, the one that Brian and his wife had planned to raise together, would be torn apart. Their lives would never be the same again.


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## W. Dallas (Mar 4, 2014)

She sat in a meadow of carnivorous flowers on a bed of brown, dead grass.  The blades swayed as if in a gentle breeze,though no wind blew.


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## Mans (Mar 4, 2014)

Today, I attempted to write a poem but whatever I thought nothing came in my mind. I hadn't any sense to write something today. I felt my head was warm but my heart was cold. I needed something to make it warm but whatever I thought I didn't realize what it was?


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## irishmoe (Mar 4, 2014)

...as the razor blade made its journey, life, first a drip, then a gushing flow, slipped away

I really can't decide if I love it or hate it :grumpy:


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## T.S.Bowman (Mar 4, 2014)

irishmoe said:


> ...as the razor blade made its journey, life, first a drip, then a gushing flow, slipped away
> 
> I really can't decide if I love it or hate it :grumpy:



That's a pretty good line. I like it for the most part.


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## Grape Juice Vampire (Mar 4, 2014)

Well there's this:

 [FONT=&quot]  “Say not another word, boy.” Silas grumbled. “Lest the fat pox hear you and piss himself in joy.”

And then later on, this:
[/FONT]

“Yet, as you sound just like Andric, I will tell you what I whispered before I opened his lying, pansy throat. She is a monster, but she is _my _monster. And I, am hers in this life and the next.”


The first line made me laugh out loud, the second gave me chills.


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## popsprocket (Mar 5, 2014)

> In the next line over she stood with a tall, square-jawed fellow who looked like a muscle-bound traffic cone. Someone should have told him that fake tan wasn’t invented for men to use.



I have never had so much fun writing a character. His tongue could be used to shave.


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## Teak (Mar 5, 2014)

> "I never killed a soul, honest," Julanza pleaded. "Maybe that's why they tried to kill me. Even as one of them, I am not made out for killing. I can't even draw the blood of a bandit. What use am I to assassins when I can't hunt without feeling remorseful for the stag?"



A healer assassin character I started writing on a while ago and decided to pick back up. It's a fun dynamic.


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## popsprocket (Mar 5, 2014)

> "I am just a man more broken than the rest." He said with a weak smile.


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## Riptide (Mar 8, 2014)

Ash rained down. I felt it pelt my charred skin. Specks of ember burned scars into my already torched skin.  I was floating above, but still feeling down below. Soon I will be nothing but the wind, I waited for the tunnel to come. To sweep me out of here, but it didn't happen. Instead I was sucked back into my still burning body.

I took a gasp of air, deep and life bringing. My back was caught in spasm. My soul was forming itself into my dead body, a body that had already ridden itself of life. I arched my back, and dug my fingers deep into the ash coated floor.


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## popsprocket (Mar 12, 2014)

> "Do you blame me?"
> 
> He smiled gently, sadly.
> 
> "My family is dead because someone needed to be rid of me and adjust the pieces on the board; if you were strong enough to rule without our influence, things would be different... to say that I blame you none would be an oversimplification of what has happened here."


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## Angelwing (Mar 13, 2014)

Well I didn't write this in my novel but, I wrote this late last night on the NaNoWriMo forums (there's a thread of some of my friends and we're all still very active in it). Since St. Patrick's Day draws nigh, I wrote them as such: 




			
				me said:
			
		

> με ζεύς! Lads above--ye wouldn't believe how much a bloody bother m'room mate can be--he's snorin' like th' aul wan! Finally he shaddup or else me mind'd be as sharp as a beach ball in th' morn!




and then later: 




> Bajayzeus m'lassies, the bugger is now snoring again, when I'm tryin to sleep! Lauder than me Da fierce!


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## Bilston Blue (Mar 13, 2014)

Delaney’s parents have, since Liza’s passing, spent the afternoons of her birthday visiting Bloxwich cemetery, where they make neat the area surrounding her headstone whilst reminiscing about her cheerfulness and that she was without doubt the most selfless person they’d ever known; but their conversations won’t have included mention of her never marrying or raise the question of whether such celibacy facilitated her selflessness or whether her selflessness necessitated or contributed to her celibacy.


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## Pandora (Mar 13, 2014)

Keep your memories of Frankie in happy times close. When the tears come wrap one around you, he will be with you then.


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## Elle94 (Mar 13, 2014)

I struggled against the arms of my mother, lashed out with my hands and my feet and clawed with my nails like talons. I was possessed by an animalistic urge to run, to chase after those faceless strangers and beg them to let me understand. That evening, they stole from me the single most influential thing in my young life and I was lost without him already. I felt the ignorance of my youth suffocating me, I fell to the kitchen tiles and squirmed as though asphyxiated by my own naivety though the hands were my mother’s as she tried to hold me, comfort me.


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## popsprocket (Mar 14, 2014)

> Phil _smiled_ as he read what Dan had put in front of him. It had been a long time since he’d done that. It was only two short pages, but it was enough to change the man’s expression. Setting the pages down Phil cocked his head to one side, looking at his young charge.
> 
> “I met a girl.” Dan said, staring out the window at the passing world.
> 
> “I can tell.” Phil said.


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## Jeko (Mar 14, 2014)

_I was walking down the road when I saw two men staring at me like the horizon on the back of a wasteland.
_
I usually hate my similes, but I like this one. Don't know why.


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## Terry D (Mar 14, 2014)

This description popped into my head years ago and languished there until I had the chance to write it into a short story called, In the Memory of Stones:

*The man was a pig. He had jowls that hung like the cheeks of a fat woman's ass, and every time he stuck that stinking cigar into his mouth it looked like an act of sodomy.*


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## InkyEdits (Mar 14, 2014)

"_*Onward still; the hanyou tread through the thickening soil he came  across after passing over the stone earth and clicked his tongue with  disgust. He was used to this kind of land, as well as winding up with  unclean paws, as a result of crossing it and yet, this was  quite different. With caution — his eyes following even the slightest of  movements, he strolled further, halting every now and again to pinpoint  several unfamiliar sounds.*_"

Actually just a snippet from one of my roleplay responses on tumblr, so it's not involved in a work of fiction, but I like it all the same.


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## popsprocket (Mar 15, 2014)

> "You have the look about you of someone more dangerous than she likes to let on," he smiled viciously, "I wanted to see what you would do next."


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## bookmasta (Mar 17, 2014)

This one popped into my head. It isn't amazing, but I thought it was interesting.


> But sometimes, not even the will to survive is enough. Sometimes, a man with a gun can end your journey before it even begins.


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## Elle94 (Mar 19, 2014)

"What had he been thinking? Had it even been deliberate? She had seen him desperate, crying in anguish, begging for sleep. She had seen him fall apart some nights, rocking to and fro with his hands tugging at his hair. He listened to loud music in the earphones she had stolen for him, just to silence his thoughts. Some mornings she would come back from the shift and he would be reading the dictionary or an old telephone book, or lying on his back, counting the ceiling tiles over and over. And some days he could be angry. Always at himself."


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## TheYellowMustang (Mar 19, 2014)

"On Monday, Doctor Milstein bit his nails and told me that two people looking alike was nothing to raise concern. Then he told me not to do drugs and offered me a prescription for Ambien."


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## popsprocket (Mar 20, 2014)

> “It must be nice, to live like you do.” She said.
> 
> “I can show you how,” how to take the things she wanted and how to live the way she wanted, “do you trust me?”
> 
> ...


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## Pandora (Mar 23, 2014)

No I don't like it . . .

I wait for the call to connect, to hear him speak his name. His voice has hardened, trying to sound strong, playing the game that no one wins. 
A small space he occupies amongst them all. His path took him to a cage, to cold cement walls and we talk of the weather he can not feel. 
Please don't stop feeling . . .


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## popsprocket (Apr 4, 2014)

> Nothing remained of the boy she had parted with all those years ago. In his place stood a man. A man with eyes the grey of cold steel that saw everything but told nothing, and a vicious smile spoiled only by a silvery scar that cut through the corner of his mouth on its way from cheekbone to chin.


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## bookmasta (Apr 16, 2014)

Its not much, but I feel like it illustrates a facet of my main character's personality perfectly.





> Its like I’m glued to the screen, my eyes wide and my heart racing in my ears as adrenaline flows through my veins. I’m in a world of my own. This is where I’m most dangerous and I earn my rank of 201 in COD. This is why everyone wants to be on my team and no one wants to be my enemy. I’m invincible.


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## Bard_Daniel (Apr 16, 2014)

> The silence of the hallway engulfed the house, wholly, in full.


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## popsprocket (Apr 16, 2014)

.


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## Angelwing (Apr 17, 2014)

After my MC was one of the only survivors in a crazy 4 or so day long last stand (in which they were finally saved): 



> I struggled for a few steps, and Corporal Leblanc said something in a concerned tone. It was probably “are you okay sir?” but it didn’t seem to come through. Suddenly I felt drained, perhaps because the rush I experienced while wielding the entrenching tool had left me, but I also knew that the previous days had been unrelenting on my body and mind. It felt like everything was hitting me at once. My knees buckled and I stumbled forward, then my entire body fell upon the white blanket.



The reference to the entrenching tool is that he thought Leblanc was an enemy (he didn't know that friendly forces had arrived) and almost killed him with an entrenching tool after surprising him. But I just like this part, at least in context of everything before. It's like, he stayed pretty strong through everything, then just collapses from exhaustion.


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## Bishop (Apr 17, 2014)

I absolutely love this moment in my own work, which I know is a bit narcissistic, but still:

"I can take command for a short while if you and your girlfriend are... busy, Captain."

"The last time I let you take command of my ship, the words 'ramming speed' were used. You're still in time out."


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## popsprocket (Apr 19, 2014)

> "That's awful. If life's a game then I'm just a toy for your amusement."
> 
> He smiled wickedly,
> 
> "Maybe, but as long as no one gets hurt then what's wrong with that? Besides, it's not like I'm the one playing - I'm a piece on the board too."


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## popsprocket (Apr 26, 2014)

> That scrutinising look disappeared from her face and she smiled widely. Dan almost recoiled out of instinct. That was usually the kind of look that preceded being hugged. He hated being hugged.


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## Elvenswordsman (Apr 26, 2014)

"Thanks Mom, love you."


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## popsprocket (May 12, 2014)

> He pressed his pistol to the head of the kneeling man, and with pull of the trigger painted the spy's brains across the alley wall in a plume of powder smoke and fan of gore.


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## popsprocket (Jul 1, 2014)

Decided to write a novel this month. I'm happy with how it begins:



> The musket ball had gone right through him, managing to avoid damaging anything important; his mother would be very disappointed to hear that.


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## Katie D (Jul 1, 2014)

Terry D said:


> This description popped into my head years ago and languished there until I had the chance to write it into a short story called, In the Memory of Stones:
> 
> *The man was a pig. He had jowls that hung like the cheeks of a fat woman's ass, and every time he stuck that stinking cigar into his mouth it looked like an act of sodomy.*


Great imagery. It made me shudder, then laugh. I love how the narrator is making the pig insult himself without even being aware of it.


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## Pidgeon84 (Jul 1, 2014)

Ok technically it's a rewrite... And Technically I wrote it yesterday.  I know it's crazy, but here's my poem, so it read it maybe? 

http://www.writingforums.com/threads/148585-Cosmic-Ripple

Plus, Amsawtell really whipped my ass into shape on this one! :lol:


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## Riptide (Jul 1, 2014)

We broke off.  I was swung back. A riveting pain erupted from my core, sending waves upon waves of a throbbing sensation through my body. It wasn't just pain, it was a tangible substance. It molded in my center, crafting my death in its hands. Its poison coursed through my veins.

Yep, a rewrite as well, but written and there!


----------



## Ixarku (Jul 1, 2014)

I have two things I've written today that I rather like.  I'm working on a short story about an unmotivated, sleep-deprived warehouse worker who encounters an unusual situation during a late-night overtime shift.  I have definite ideas about what the story is _supposed_ to be about, but it's veering in a weird but fun direction.


This is after he's driven home from work:



> I pulled into the driveway and parked, not bothering to open the garage and pull in.  A part of my brain noted the grass in the lawn straining  to Icarian heights, and the weeds invading every possible break in the concrete walk, but that was a concern for another week.  I accepted for the moment that the plants had greater ambitions than I did.  I barely remember making it through the front door, and nothing after that.




And a little later:



> I awoke at twelve thirty, feeling more alert but still cognizant of my growing sleep debt.  Actually, it was more like a sleep mortgage, with no tax write-off for the interest, and instead of a bank, I owed the debt to a loan shark.  When the goons finally came to break my kneecaps for non-payment, I knew it was going to hurt.



It's a silly metaphor, but it was fun to write.


----------



## egpenny (Jul 2, 2014)

We settled into the long grass to wait. I smiled at Max as he cut stalks of grass and tucked them into his sweatband. Next, he gathered a handful of dirt and rubbed it on his cheeks and forehead. It was dark, but if anyone glanced my way my face would look like the full moon at ground level; I picked up a handful of dirt, too.


----------



## popsprocket (Jul 3, 2014)

> “Suck it up, lad, you’ll get use’ to it!” Said a thick voice somewhere behind him as a hand broad as an oak tree patted him on the back with all the gentle restraint of a Salts addict beating someone to death with a brick.


----------



## patskywriter (Jul 3, 2014)

The best thing I wrote today was my name. On the back of a check. Yes!


----------



## aj47 (Jul 4, 2014)

> It's too complicated to explain. Even if I sat here for an hour, which I'm not doing.


 -- my Facebook status.


----------



## popsprocket (Jul 4, 2014)

> Alexei _had_ heard that things were a bit more primitive over on this side of the sea because they had nothing but fish and sheep, both of which a toddler dropped on its head one too many times would be able to find in abundance, and as such weren’t worth invading, much less simply talking with.


----------



## Ixarku (Jul 5, 2014)

Two more things:




> Exterior floodlights revealed the front of the terminal but cast deep shadows at regular intervals where the coverage was inadequate and light failed to reach, giving the building the appearance of a concrete island amid a sea of darkness, with waves of shadow lapping at the edges.



And:




> With most of the bay doors closed, warm air draped across me as unpleasantly as a drunken bro’s arms.




I amuse myself sometimes.


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## Mans (Jul 5, 2014)

I think, the best thing that I wrote today was a Persian poem which I wrote in an article titled  " Human is human even though with various color". The poem was this 

The universe is like eye, ear and eyebrow 
Everything is beautiful but just in its location


----------



## popsprocket (Jul 7, 2014)

> That was good! He was going to have to write that down before he forgot it.



My character is composing the exact words he'll use to tell the tale of his fantastic adventures... in the middle of a fight.


----------



## popsprocket (Aug 10, 2014)

> "I forgave you a long time ago," he lied.


----------



## thepancreas11 (Aug 10, 2014)

"God, what I could do with one thousand square feet of open space."

"What if the space wants to be empty? Why does it have to have potential?"

"It's space, Sam. Space wants to be filled!"

--My characters talking about the house they're buying together.


----------



## No Cat No Cradle (Aug 10, 2014)

The lights of the theatre slowly dimmed,allowing the invisible audience to sit back, relax and prepare themselves for our featured presentation. There was a solo violin playing in the soundtrack that reverberated through the emptiness... a reverberation that delivered such nostalgia and vivid, comfortable, reassurance that they were in a house of peace and wonder.

Blackness was projected onto the screen...or simpler enough, nothing was projected on the screen and the whiteness of the canvas remained dominant over the image.Suddenly a voice was heard that boomed from the speakers as the violin was drawn back to remain as a faint undertone.

(For a site I write for...)


----------



## TKent (Aug 10, 2014)

"The question is, how important is commercial success to you?"
Real important. I'm talking _Show me the money_ important. Five years of barely making it had drained me.
"Pretty important," I said grudgingly, feeling like a traitor to the craft.


----------



## No Cat No Cradle (Aug 12, 2014)

"Growing up doesn't exist. Humans are eternally children and the idea of growing up is a manifestation of shame projected from one person onto another for not following their idea of right which is inevitably wrong or is merely their comfort zone. We have been cheated, Ian. We have been cheated of proper lives and growing up is surrendering...don't grow up brotha"


----------



## Gargh (Nov 11, 2014)

I LOVE this thread. It popped up again in a search for something else, and I'm so glad. It's one of my favourites. Such a good thing to do at the end of each writing day.

I quite like this bit of mine today...



> The following week, in anticipation, I bought a joint of meat. It was years since I had cooked a roast dinner; not since I moved in. There’s just not a lot of point when you’re on your own, and it’s sad to say how much I enjoyed choosing a whole joint of beef. It was dear but, for company, worth it. When he arrived, we prepped. The rhythmic work struck up such a casual harmony as to belie our situation. I knew then the difference between a cat gone feral and someone’s pet; this lad was missed, I was sure, but I didn’t want to jeopardise the ease with which we now met by asking questions. So I kept the cream out, and just sat, waiting.



It's yesterday's, but I think that works well for me.


----------



## TKent (Nov 11, 2014)

Nice Gargh. Also, I don't remember seeing that avatar. It ROCKS!


----------



## Gargh (Nov 11, 2014)

TKent said:


> Nice Gargh. Also, I don't remember seeing that avatar. It ROCKS!



It was a one-time-only experiment in cats wearing small dog clothes. I've never laughed so hard, but she was so cross... I feel she manages to combine cute with 'I'm going to cut you' quite fabulously in that photo. I won't ever do it again, because she clearly hated it, but oh it was painfully funny!


----------



## Pluralized (Nov 11, 2014)

*Language Warning*


From my NaNo project, today's session (raw, unedited, and probably rather crap-tastic, but I'm latched onto a story that's writing itself at this point so I wanted to share some of it):

For a month, Algo was coming over to visit Pat, not even acknowledging Cielo anymore. Cielo took advantage of this and began tracking the time Algo spent there. His house, down the block, was nearly empty all the time. His parents were never home. So, Cielo began sneaking over there when Algo was at her own house, and creeping into his room. The first time she went over there, she felt weird, like she was invading some sacred tomb. His room smelled of orange peels and gunpowder, and posters of heavy metal bands plastered the walls. He’d burned holes in walls, stabbed stuffed animals. There were remnants of destroyed toys and other electronics in a small pile in the corner, and his books were all cut up and defaced. An image of a skull with a candle burning in its mouth stared back at her with red eyes from above his bed. 


Up on one shelf, under some shirts and a 1992 calendar, was a plastic box, lined with small compartments. In each one, there were labels with the names of girls in the neighborhood, some she knew. In each compartment was another name. She found her name, along with her mother’s, in the same compartment. In some of them, a pinch of feathers, some contained small fragments of what looked like chicken bones. Others still, pieces of newspaper and photos cut from larger pictures. In the compartment marked Cielo/Pat, there was a dried eyeball, presumably from some small animal. She looked around, felt her heart jittering. The wretched smell of the box hit her in the nose, and she realized what she was holding. She moved to replace the box, but in came Algo, slamming the door behind him. She dropped the box and he shrieked, diving for it. “My work!” he shouted, somersaulting toward the box, which he caught before it hit the floor. “You fucking idiot,” he spat. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”


----------



## popsprocket (Nov 12, 2014)

> "Could you please imagine me floating, or at least riding a horse? All this walking is making my feet hurt."
> "Shut up. You're my hallucination and so long as I have to walk then so do you!"


----------



## popsprocket (Nov 18, 2014)

> On the Westwind the pirates came bearing night, only the moon to witness the sacking of Dunne and the stars to weep as it burned. They took everything. Including a boy who never forgave, and never forgot.


----------



## Riptide (Nov 18, 2014)

Zol chuckled. "It's funny, but you would scream 'No' over and over again. You would even fall asleep crying no."

Jade didn't remember that and turned a shade red. "I did?"

Zol grinned. "Yes, you did. But, I thought you were calling for help. Calling me for help. And you had that high pitched squeal of a child making me think you were shouting 'Zol' instead. I assumed that was me you were calling for."

"So I gave you your name?" Jade blinked in amazement. "You really knew nothing?"

Zol nodded, a kindred smile on his face. "Nothing but darkness and pain... And you."


----------



## TKent (Nov 22, 2014)

I wore my guilt like another layer of clothing--guilt, black tank, maybe dress it up with a gray mesh pullover.


----------



## Pluralized (Nov 22, 2014)

Writing NaNoWriMo stuff, unedited - some crappy lines in here but this is raw and I'm at 40k of this story so far. 

Flames jumped and danced in the fireplace, but didn’t seem to warm the house. Even up beside it, there was little warmth beyond her own body. A stomping, pounding sound reverberated throughout the house and the hillside and inward through her mind and body. Something was coming. She ran around the side of a coffee table and bumped her hip on a secretary between sconces in the foyer. She bled from the gash and left a dripping trail behind her. Upstairs, she ran, taking the carpeted steps two at a time. She slipped and was on all fours for a moment, and close enough to see that the floor she ran on was made up of tiny moving parts, all grinding away in a seamless machination of rotating, gyrating geodesic shapes. The blood from her scratch dripped onto the floor, and it churned the spatter into nothing, digesting it. The floor became the home’s skin, living, breathing. It was organic, but seemingly malevolent in its own way. Paintings on the pale gray walls were life-size, frowning. All staring at her, disapproving of her. They wanted her gone. The floor ground out a rhythm and the paintings hummed along and the stomping and pounding shook the very structure of the house and she was frantic and running toward the upstairs bedroom closet where she hoped to hide behind a row of long dresses but when she got there the closet door opened into a vast, black nothing that tried to pull her inside but she resisted. The pounding stopped as she slammed the door, threw herself on the bed, still panting. The bedsheets were made from a slick, hard substance that she surmised to be keratin, like a large fingernail that she could not get away from. The silence in that room was thick and pure. She cried, but the tears coming out were acidic, and burned her face in long red scratches of welt. She screamed in pain and ran over to the other door, which had to be the bathroom. When she threw it aside, the thing that was doing the pounding looked through her and disapproved, then pressed her to the floor. She felt the tiny machines grinding away at her flesh, making her disappear piece by piece. She flailed and tried to get away but was held fast by this black entity with no eyes and no shoulders just a head and torso and no legs and it formed a vast open mouth lined with spiked teeth made of white stone. The mouth came nearer her face and she could smell the decay and it was on her. Biting her, consuming her body and the pain was real and she was being killed and devoured. The blood poured from her wounds and the house drank it up and the thing ate her body and she was gone, but the pain stayed with her, excruciating and vivid. She awoke sitting in the bed in Brahm’s house, sick and vomiting and breathing hard and the dreams were not over and the dark man wanted to see her in the tunnels in just a few hours. Her mind went right back to the Death Sentence, and she wept.


----------



## Gargh (Nov 22, 2014)

TKent said:


> I wore my guilt like another layer of clothing--guilt, black tank, maybe dress it up with a gray mesh pullover.



I love the idea of accessorising guilt!


----------



## Seedy M. (Nov 22, 2014)

She grinned. "CD! You flatter me unconscionably! Please don't stop!"


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## popsprocket (Nov 23, 2014)

> "Did you come back just to bang my sister?"
> "Yes, a little bit."


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## Nemesis (Nov 23, 2014)

The start of a new cyberpunk short:

"Skidding down the gentle slope of one of the smaller domes that would, in about twenty more yards, give way to a much steeper slide straight down to unforgiving concrete, I shot a glance back over my shoulder to my pursuers and lunged sideways as oneof them levied a gun at my head and pulled the trigger. "


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## popsprocket (Nov 24, 2014)

> "In another life," he breathed, on his whisper the sound of two hearts breaking.


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## Bishop (Nov 24, 2014)

_“Yes, so now if we fail we have Kav, Phil, and a massive stellar explosion all wanting to kill us. Fantastic. I wish I’d materialized in someone else’s prosthetic occipital lobe. Seriously, anyone else’s.”
__
“Hey, I never said life in my head would be easy,”_ Jake thought. _“But you have to admit, it’s exciting!”_


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## TKent (Nov 24, 2014)

gee whiz...reading this thread makes me want to sign up for the newsletter so I'll be notified when the books are out!!  Great stuff!


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## Deleted member 56686 (Nov 24, 2014)

TKent said:


> gee whiz...reading this thread makes me want to sign up for the newsletter so I'll be notified when the books are out!!  Great stuff!



That's the best thing you wrote today? 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





Oh yeah, here mine..

Meanwhile, Gertie was officially named the war correspondent. She excitedly told her husband, Brussels of Spouts, of her new position. He was so excited for her that he fell asleep on the couch.


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## InnerFlame00 (Nov 25, 2014)

My favorite line of the day is this: She concentrated, letting the world around her fall away until she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat and the silence where she should be hearing his

I had a good, actual, for realsies lol (not to be confused with smirking a little while not making a sound at all but fallaciously typing lol anyway) at these two:



mrmustard615 said:


> Meanwhile, Gertie was officially named the war correspondent. She excitedly told her husband, Brussels of Spouts, of her new position. He was so excited for her that he fell asleep on the couch.





Bishop said:


> _“Yes, so now if we fail we have Kav, Phil, and a massive stellar explosion all wanting to kill us. Fantastic. I wish I’d materialized in someone else’s prosthetic occipital lobe. Seriously, anyone else’s.”
> __
> “Hey, I never said life in my head would be easy,”_ Jake thought. _“But you have to admit, it’s exciting!”_


----------



## Schrody (Nov 25, 2014)

Excerpt from my WIP:

"No one knows how they actually look like. Maybe it's a cry for their long lost humanity? As they evolved, everything became insignificant, power made them forget what was once important. It's an intoxicating thing, power. At least, that's my theory. Maybe they were never human like, and adapted the form to infiltrate better. They come from outside the known universe, probably other dimension. They could've used their advancement for something greater than themselves, but they decided to be unmerciful gods, playing with lives of the lower species."


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## Pluralized (Nov 25, 2014)

It entered the furnace slowly, just a few inches every minute, and her hair was melting and she reached up to feel the bald scalp. Screams were unheard, cries unanswered. The immolation was beginning and would heal her, finally.


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## ppsage (Nov 26, 2014)

A panel composed as is ours finds no difficulty interviewing the dead, so, the first witness is, most logically, the victim himself. Several seated in the room have no difficulty answering for him with complete confidence. 

"He wouldn't answer that," said Mick Easton, our site supervisor. "That question would receive from him no response. Or rather, he'd answer something like, 'You would be superfluous here, did you not already know the answer.'" This, we agree, is his certain reply to any question of why he succumbed to the contagion.


----------



## Arcopitcairn (Nov 26, 2014)

He dreamed of gothy cemetery girls, their eyes black and tired from nightmares and puffy from tomb dust. They swayed in tattered, cobweb dresses and whispered dreadful things about his mother. The earth was pregnant with the dead, and he could almost see the peeled fingernails scratching uselessly at coffin oak. He could hear them, the struggles of the things in their buried wombs, their pounding, kicking. And he laughed at the dead in his dreams. There was no one to rescue them.


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## ppsage (Nov 26, 2014)

When we decided, in the face of the realization that a dread pestilence had irrefutably taken permanent root in our community, to create an official Board of Inquest, drawn from the city elders, we probably believed it more than merely symbolic of civic responsibility, we probably believed some material good might arise from the investigations, but over time our point of view has changed, and now we are contented by the detachment which useless but comforting ritual provides.


----------



## alanmt (Dec 2, 2014)

. . . her pupils blacker than an unlit room full of drow . . .


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## TKent (Dec 2, 2014)

Next to her was… 

_Oh. My. God. _Next to her was the ugliest zombie I’d ever laid eyes on. If my heart was still beating, it would have thudded its way right out of the smelly dead flesh of my chest.

She was young, maybe dead ten years if I had to guess from the amount of whispy black hair still on her head. She had the whole goth-grunge thing going—from the muddy black combat boots on her feet to the tattered black t-shirt dress that said _Flesh-eater_ boldly across the front. I felt guilty but couldn’t stop myself from imagining the rotten peeling skin I hoped was underneath.

_ Stop it already, you’re acting like a damned vamp._


----------



## TKent (Dec 2, 2014)

Love it:



> Brussels of Spouts,


----------



## Riptide (Dec 2, 2014)

"What ever, I got to go. I'm leaving for a good long while, at least a decade. Take care not to get caught." And just like that Ally was gone. Probably already with a different identity.


----------



## ppsage (Dec 4, 2014)

Belinda Lewis kept the dairy, and she had the haughty assurance of a woman who commanded dumb brutes.


----------



## Cran (Dec 4, 2014)

To claim otherwise is to create a metaphysical state of duality similar to that of Schrodinger’s Cat; a simple but irrational paradox of logic where a Will can be said to simultaneously exist and not exist until a Court opens the Box and Looks, at which time the paradox collapses and the state of the Will is measured.


_(part of my statement for an upcoming court matter)_


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## Morkonan (Dec 4, 2014)

Cran said:


> To claim otherwise is to create a metaphysical state of duality similar to that of Schrodinger’s Cat; a simple but irrational paradox of logic where a Will can be said to simultaneously exist and not exist until a Court opens the Box and Looks, at which time the paradox collapses and the state of the Will is measured.
> 
> 
> _(part of my statement for an upcoming court matter)_



I could have used this several months ago, when dealing with a farce revolving around a Will. Luckily, no court was involved, but it almost was... Next time I'm confronted with that possibility, I'll contract for your services in preparing the brief.


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## Bishop (Dec 4, 2014)

These sorts of character moments are the reason I write...



> “Captain Pless.” She smiled and shook Jake’s hand. Her grip constricted his hand firmly, with more strength than he had expected. He looked to see her knuckles glowing blue like the rest of her bony segments.
> 
> “Uh—I ah.” Jake fumbled for the words, any words. “It’s an honor.”
> 
> _“Smooooooth,”_ Qorra said.


----------



## popsprocket (Dec 4, 2014)

> He listened to both sides of the argument with a thoughtful look before drawing his pistol and promptly showering the pirate crew in the crimson brains of their now ex-captain.



Some characters just don't have any patience for troublemakers.


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## Pluralized (Dec 4, 2014)

There I stood, useless. And juiceless.


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## popsprocket (Dec 6, 2014)

> "The gods cannot be found at the place where the world Ends. There is only fire."


----------



## TKent (Dec 9, 2014)

Jackson looked like someone had taken angry and annoyed and put them together in one of those face morphing apps.


----------



## Deleted member 56686 (Dec 9, 2014)

Kentoshima and her faithful dog Ruff emerged from the Wicked Woods unscathed as they continued on their trek to Saki. On the way, they encountered a group of Samurai who were also headed to the forbidden city of Saki. They too were seeking revenge. In their case, it was to avenge a death of their master, Bozoshimi, who was known to entertain children at birthday parties. Bozoshimi was killed by the Samurai of Saki when they invaded their village and stole his nose. This story tugged at Kentoshima’s heart. Ruff tugged at Kentoshima’s robe and urinated on one of the other Samurai.

(Guess whose chapter? :icon_cheesygrin


----------



## Angelwing (Dec 9, 2014)

From my new alt history/historical fiction story _Nassau 1776 _which I'm working on on wattpad: 



> "Mr. Cooper." "Aye?" "See to it that my letter reaches Matilda, in New York, if you please." "Right then, if I remember correctly, going that way should be...Captain Stack..." "Ugh, that's right. Damn, man, is this my predicament? Captain bloody Stack on one hand, and the Admiral on the other. The Captain'd be liable to perversely read the thing himself along the way, and the Admiral'd be liable to think its some conspiratorial correspondence."



I just find it funny, especially reading it in a British/slightly piratey accent.


----------



## yxz79 (Dec 10, 2014)

*From my WIP:*

 "Gawen!" the voice called. "Brother!"

 Gawen couldn't help but to smile at his sister. "What is it, Lyn?"

His sister ran to him and then threw herself into his arms. "I want to ask you a favor, Gawen," she said as she hugged him.

 "What kind of favor?"

 His sister let go. "First, promise me you will not tell anything to father or mother."

 "It's okay... I promise."

 Lyn smiled. "Good."

 "Now tell me what is that favor."

 "I want you to take me to see the village festival."

_I should've guessed, _he thought. "I seem to recall our parents forbade you to go, didn't they?"

 "Yes. But they don't have to know," she said, still smiling.

 "Well, I'm sorry, but my answer is no."

 The smile disappeared of his sister's face. "Why?" 

 "Because I don't want to get myself into trouble."

 "You do not have to," she said. "It will be quick, I promise. Just take me to see the sorcerers. Once I see them, I promise you we will return."

 "You'll have time to see the sorcerers," Gawen said. _Perhaps too much._ Having been born an elf, Lyn had hundreds of years ahead of her, enough to do what she wanted with her life.

 "But I want to see them now!" His sister protested with tears in her eyes. "Is it too much to ask?"

 "Sorry, but I won't take you to see them."

 "It is not fair! Why can't you take me to see the sorcerers?"

 "I told you why, Lyn."

 His sister took his hand and looked him into the eyes. "Please Gawen. If you do this ... I promise I will never ask you another favor. Never in my life. Please!"

 Gawen opened his mouth to say no to her sister, but looking at her watery eyes, he found himself unable to. _Damn it._ "I ... I'll think about it."

 "Thank you, Gawen!" His sister hugged him so hard that for a moment Gawen struggled to breathe. "Thank you, very much!"

 "I didn't say I'd do it; just that I'd think about it."

 "And I thank you for that," Lyn said. "That is why you are my favorite brother. Even though you are a human."

_I'm your only brother, Lyn._ "Uh, thanks... I guess."


----------



## popsprocket (Dec 13, 2014)

> "I will waver none on this issue. The first man to defy me will be hung from the cliffs by his own intestines, and the second will think that the first was lucky." He said with a pleasant smile.


----------



## Kat (Dec 15, 2014)

> 46% of people spend time at work looking for other jobs.




Made a fun infographic on the changing workforce. Fun--meaning should scare the crap out of most of our employers.


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## No Cat No Cradle (Dec 17, 2014)

> Clark V. Tatum: Objection! Judge, this witness is defective. I want a new one!



Wrote this in an article I wrote. It is a Pop Culture on Trial thing I am working on.


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## Riptide (Dec 17, 2014)

I stepped out. Walked towards the front desk. Asked for a place. Was handed the keys. Went to the room. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside. Shut the door. Stood by the bed... 
 	And absolutely ruined the maids day, if this place even sported one.  

 	Afterwords I felt much better and grabbed my luggage. I didn't sleep on beds anyway.


----------



## Bishop (Dec 18, 2014)

Wrote this a few weeks back, just was re-reading for some continuity information and found it, had a laugh. The unfrozen man from our time being introduced to his new room on the ship that discovered him:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room itself was cozier than Jack had expected, but still undersized. There was a cot built into one wall, with a small glowing panel next to it, a sink and mirror, and a closet. As Jack looked closer, he noticed the bulk of the sink was a compartment underneath, and when Iv pulled on it, it slid out into a toilet.

          “Yeah… so, here-here-here… light panels by the door, next to the bed. Control the temp too. Showers are aft of the dorm wing, boys and girls, all that. Oh! Cap’n got you a tablet, hold on…” Iv tapped her forehead and her face twisted as she tried to conjure up some thought. Then she snapped a finger and moved the closet and reached onto the top shelf, grabbing a flat black slate about five inches by three. She offered it to Jack and tapped the screen with three fingers in a triangular pattern. It blinked to life, the glowing screen staring back at him with an interface for an operating system Jack had never seen, but it looked user friendly enough to figure out as he went.

          “Oh, cool, thanks,” Jack said.

          “Yeah, if you have questions, ask Jacques. He’s the most patient of the crew, ya? Okay, tap tap tap, play around. Library access can answer lotsa questions you have, and StarNet can answer the rest. And give you porn, in case you’re lonely, human or otherwise. Kay? I’m going to work.” Iv swatted Jack on the shoulder and slid through the door, jumping down off of the platform to the lower level.

          Jack sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “The rooms were definitely bigger on the Enterprise.”


----------



## popsprocket (Dec 19, 2014)

> "He made a deal with Him who governs death - eternity exchanged for a river of blood."


----------



## J Anfinson (Dec 31, 2014)

> “War ain’t never been easy, Jack, but like we said in ‘Nam, there ain’t no problem a .308 won’t fix.”


----------



## Jeko (Dec 31, 2014)

_All the money in the world
Cannot mend a broken heart,
Nor all the time we could have spent
Together while we were apart._

Listening to Radiohead got me into a mood, leading to some non-radiohead-like poetry.


----------



## Nemesis (Jan 5, 2015)

> The girl on the bed was bathed in the soft gold glow of the street lamps outside, allowing him to pretend for a little while longer that she was only sleeping. Late night was slipping into early morning and the party that had been raging outside this room died down from a shout to a whisper to a heavy, unbearable silence. The rambunctious cacophony, like the alcohol, had made it easier to ignore her stillness, but the occasional glare of headlights piercing the curtains broke up his illusions and highlighted the ugly pallor of dead flesh, flaunting the bruises and the dirty red splatter of blood between her splayed thighs.
> 
> He didn’t kill her, but he watched it happen, _let it happen_.



Opening to a short I'm working on


----------



## SwitchBack (Jan 5, 2015)

I wrote this yesterday. 

_Bjorn was an incredible cat. Though of small stature, the unwanted runt, he nevertheless had a way of making you think he was bigger than the biggest tiger. Oh he had his imperfects. Who doesn't? His temper was something to behold. And he could go off in a huff for days on end. But beneath his scarred visage, beat the heart of a teddy bear. When a 15 year old Melissa found him on her way home from school, she never imagined that this raggedy stray would repay her a hundredfold.
_ 
Something of an intro to a book I've been playing with the idea of. It's switched from horse to cat to dog and back. Undecided on which animal to use.


----------



## aj47 (Jan 5, 2015)

In an e-mail.  The subject was the name of the attachment.  The body was simply:

As above, so below.


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## Riptide (Jan 5, 2015)

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Do you know who your dad is?” the doctor asked. A dull tapping sounded behind her. Again she tried to crane her neck to see what. “It isn't Celt that's for sure.”[/FONT]
  [FONT=Times New Roman, serif] 
The monitor in front of her beeped rapidly, a physical notification of her increased heart rate.[/FONT]

  [FONT=Times New Roman, serif] 
“I guess you didn't know that. Don't worry, we'll figure that one out together.” [/FONT]


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## InnerFlame00 (Jan 6, 2015)

"I’m so happy right now I feel like I’m riding a majestic eagle over a rainbow of red white and blue!"

A line of dialogue from one of the two things I'm working on at the moment. My husband and I were giggling like idiots while I read it to him.


----------



## ppsage (Jan 6, 2015)

When the swan came to me, I thought it was a goose, except it's carriage was wrong, and it was bigger.


----------



## popsprocket (Jan 11, 2015)

> "What's she like?"
> He smiled gently, "She's like the sunrise."


----------



## popsprocket (Jan 18, 2015)

> Red dawnlight soaked the dunes, the blood on the sand all but invisible for that one moment.


----------



## TJ1985 (Jan 18, 2015)

"Harold, close your mouth; you look like a Jack-O-Lantern with the candle blown out."


----------



## Circadian (Jan 20, 2015)

There was nothing but ragged breath in the darkness.  He tried to slow it, tried to strain his ears for the telltale sign of pursuers, a footstep, a whisper, the slice of a blade through the stillness.  But there was nothing and no one and he realized that he was finally alone.


----------



## popsprocket (Jan 24, 2015)

> "How come normal people don't just wander in?" She asked.
> 
> "There's a spell on the whole place," he put a hand on the door and looked back at her, "it makes it so that people without magic feel repulsed by the very idea of going inside. The closer they get the stronger the repulsion."
> 
> ...


----------



## popsprocket (Jan 26, 2015)

> "There was a little voice in my head that would wail remorse for my each new crime." He fixed her with a stare that could freeze an ocean, "I don't hear it anymore."


----------



## Loveabull (Jan 27, 2015)

" It reminds me of a Northern Sun inspired t shirt "I Can't Believe I'm Still Protesting this ****". The year 2015 and we haven't evolved beyond allowing a bunch of middle-aged blithering idiots to inflict themselves on women's bodies..."

A favorite guilty pleasure, baiting conservatives on the AARP site...


----------



## BobtailCon (Feb 12, 2015)

*GOOD THREADS NEVER DIE

*I'll cheat. From a couple days ago;

But something came to Korin's attention, the guards weren't escorting him to the Meeting Chambers.

"This doesn't lead to the Queen's Meeting Chambers."

"That's right" the guard snorted, "Her Majesty wishes to meet in the dungeons, the Meeting Chambers are currently in use by King Torg."

King Torg was still on his seasonal raids. He wouldn't be back for another five suns.

Korin began to slip away, but the guard spotted him.

"Hey you-" The guard suddenly found it hard to speak with a two-finger long throwing knife lodged in his throat.

Blood sprayed on his companion as he turned. Korin rewarded his oaf-like reactions with a crossbow bolt through the eye-slit in his Ocularum helmet.

Korin sprinted out the gates of the Palace of Amosia as the City's Guard mustered at it's gates.


----------



## Jeko (Feb 12, 2015)

_You were my lovely revenant,
So ghastly pale and cruel from lust.
You climbed in bed while I was dead
And death climbed out the two of us.

A child for Mephistopheles. 
A casket-womb and grave-stone cot
With skin like tissues, eyes like tears
And hands and feet all green with rot.

But still, he was our only son,
And so you named him for your own.
An heir to kingdoms lost to men,
A babe for your eternal throne.

But I did not go through such pain
To give you life from final cry.
So listen while I hunt you down,
To take him as I die.
_
A poem I wrote in ten minutes to exercise my iambs.


----------



## popsprocket (Feb 15, 2015)

> "Aren't you worried about spies?
> "Not at all! They're often quite easy to spot, they ask questions like," his voice rose in pitch to mock her own, " 'Aren't you worried about spies?',"


----------



## BobtailCon (Feb 17, 2015)

The sun shined it's warm rays onto the spiring pines of Kahnol's vast forests. Mountains spread across 
the land like the spines of many great animals lying in slumber. Grey clouds clustered in the horizon,
 puffing and cumulating, a portent of events.

     Through these quiet forests, interrupted only by the whistle of wind on pine needles, and the loving calls
 of distant Elk, a shadow danced among the long-branched guardians.


----------



## popsprocket (Feb 19, 2015)

> "People die when kings clash; make sure your heart is set before you come for me."


----------



## MamaStrong (Feb 19, 2015)

My most recent blog post.....link in signature.


----------



## popsprocket (Feb 26, 2015)

> Cal stared down at the body, bile roiling at the sight. It had to be the sign of a life misled to be so constantly hunted as this. And, if that were the case, then what manner of monster was he to have been the prey so often, yet still be the one standing there, hunter's blood on his hands again?
> 
> "Not yet." He ignored the way this new murder grated at his soul. One day he would let the hunter draw faster and accept death in a cloud of gunpowder. Until then he had things to do - a war to fight, a world to rebuild. "Not yet," he whispered.


----------



## KJay (Feb 26, 2015)

How he felt inside only I knew, but he was done talking about it. I had helped him lay the foundations and he now needed to find the bricks to build his life back up. In a few months I would be back to see how he was progressing.


----------



## popsprocket (Mar 4, 2015)

> "I traded a merciful heart for the strength needed to protect this place."


----------



## J Anfinson (Mar 4, 2015)

> The front of the building had been vandalized with spray paint, the door chipped and dented. Sam tried the knob but it was locked. “Are you sure there’s anything worth stealing?”
> 
> “Have I ever led you astray from booze?”
> 
> “That you have not.”


----------



## popsprocket (Mar 12, 2015)

In her hands she cupped his face, leaning in close with that smile so gentle, "You don't have to do this alone," she said, just the faintest of whispers. A thumb came up and wiped a tear off his cheek. "You are _not_ alone."


----------



## popsprocket (Mar 23, 2015)

> He had the look about him of a mischievous child whose pranks would sooner be deadly than amusing.


----------



## Riptide (Mar 30, 2015)

I perched myself by him and stared into the horizon. Something was coming from there. Black blobs flowed in and out as if strung together.


"What's that?" I asked.


"I'll tell you when I find out." Timothy didn't glance away from the sky, but he knew what I referred to. Under his chewed up military garb and lanky western stature, I saw segments of toned muscle. Scarred and sun-kissed. His nose was sharp and pointed; A face sculpted with rigid European roots. He was handsome under the chaos of the beard.


----------



## LOLeah (Apr 1, 2015)

Most people are not aware of the pivotal moments in their lives. They soldier ahead, choosing paths either at whim or after careful consideration but seldom do they realize the gravity of any singular choice. But every now and then, sometimes only once in a life, there comes a decision and consequence whose impact a man can be acutely aware of. When the fear is breathtaking,  the uncertainty chokes. This was that moment. He would ascend the stairs before him and for good or ill he would never be the same again.


----------



## Sam (Apr 1, 2015)

> Jeff watched as the driver pulled the tarpaulin cover off the rear, a number of armed and armoured soldiers leaping out. Two moved towards the Ford, the first standing beside the crushed door and the other adopting a similar stance at the bonnet. Without hesitation, they shouldered their rifles and fired through both windows. Jeff averted his eyes in shock as the stranger’s body flailed with the impact of over three dozen high-calibre rounds. The roar of the weapons echoed through the built-up estate and lingered like the snap of a clapper board on a movie set.
> 
> From the front of the truck, a man dressed unlike the other soldiers stepped out. In contrast to their heavy armour, he wore black cargo pants and a Kevlar vest. Jeff immediately pegged him as the leader, an assumption soon to be borne out by his words.
> 
> ...


----------



## Kyle R (Apr 1, 2015)

Cool scene. Might I make a recommendation, Sam?

Rearrange

“No . . . they’re here to kill us,” Jeff replied._
_
to

"No," Jeff replied. "They're here to kill us."

Ends the sentence/scene on the most resonant note. :encouragement:


----------



## Sam (Apr 1, 2015)

Good suggestion, Kyle. 

It also provides a natural pause without the need for the ellipsis. 

Appreciate it.


----------



## aj47 (Apr 1, 2015)

astroannie said:
			
		

> One clever way to exponentiate
> is to repeat a simple multiply.


----------



## Monaque (Apr 4, 2015)

I keep tripping and falling. Sometimes I wonder if I am doing it on purpose, subconsciously, so I can feel what it is like again. I roam and I fall and I get up again. The black seems to laugh, it`s picking on me, choosing its moment to put something else in my way. But all I can see is my father, the night I walked into his lab, and the destruction it unleashed. If he only knew what he`d done he`d be sorry, wouldn`t he? And I wanted him to be, wanted him to know how it feels to be outcast from the entire human race.

Fantastic snippets everyone. Great idea for a thread because it kind of makes you want to write.


----------



## Sonata (Apr 4, 2015)

All that  I write is my favourite now
I just cannot choose as I do not know how

I write what I feel 
and when the words come
so I have no idea
what is right or is wrong


----------



## Monaque (Apr 4, 2015)

SwitchBack said:


> I wrote this yesterday.
> 
> _Bjorn was an incredible cat. Though of small stature, the unwanted runt, he nevertheless had a way of making you think he was bigger than the biggest tiger. Oh he had his imperfects. Who doesn't? His temper was something to behold. And he could go off in a huff for days on end. But beneath his scarred visage, beat the heart of a teddy bear. When a 15 year old Melissa found him on her way home from school, she never imagined that this raggedy stray would repay her a hundredfold.
> _
> Something of an intro to a book I've been playing with the idea of. It's switched from horse to cat to dog and back. Undecided on which animal to use.



A cat, definitely a cat. :encouragement:

mine for the day:
_'You could see a thousand guys doing a thousand jobs a thousand times more difficult than this and you`d still disturb them……'_


----------



## RhythmOvPain (Apr 4, 2015)

> "Sir," Simpson said, "we successfully removed the shell of the filing  cabinet and we've finished inspecting the device; it's got three main  wires, two grounded wires, and a timer, and most likely contains C4. It  consists of two main parts - likely to amplify the blast wave."
> 
> "How much?" asked Cline.
> 
> "Not quite enough to take the building down, but enough..."



I just felt like this was written WELL.


----------



## Riptide (Apr 5, 2015)

He clutched the side of his head and buried it under a pillow, but it kept yammering. In the end, he pulled on some clothes and dragged his feet to the front door. With just a sliver open, he could tell it was a great day, even if most of it was blocked by a boulder of a man who wore shipper gear: brown overalls with grease smudge stains. In his hands was a box.


"Sign here, will ya?" He thrust out a paper and Dakota scribbled his signature and handed it back. Sleep still dropped from his sight, but Dakota was cognate enough to catch the box as it was thrown to him.


----------



## Monaque (Apr 5, 2015)

‘And I can see why, you have a look that could sell anything.’ She giggled then, a girlish thing that on anyone else wouldn`t have worn at all well. On her though it fitted like a glove.


----------



## kellypeace (Apr 9, 2015)

Definitely this: 



> “Whatever, women shouldn’t be roadies. It’s a man’s job.”
> I was beside myself at his comment. “Excuse me?” I asked.
> “Oh, honey, come on, you’re a woman. You shouldn’t be silly trying to do a man’s job. Women shouldn’t be allowed into the music business.”
> “Ogres shouldn’t be allowed into bars, either.”


----------



## ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord (Apr 13, 2015)

I could not see his eyes; they were hidden under the plates of glass on them. But he was smiling, with some kind of mixture of hatred and anticipation. Me, I was cold. Cold and angry. 
 
“Well, we have no army,” he said easily, sea-green eye glass glinting. “Chances one to a hundred in a military defense, but I kind of feel like that classic last stand, don’t you? Don’t you feel like dying today, Exo?”

I exploded. “Stutton! NO ONE has to die!”

“Really?”

“Not a drop of blood will be spilled, on _any _side. Can’t you see? Their attack is not _military_, it’s political! Didn’t it work before to just refuse to do what they say? They tell us to cede? Well, we won’t. We just won’t!”

He sighed, regretting. “It might work. Whatever.” He grinned at me, mocking. “Are you. . .afraid?”
_
Afraid? Yes. For the child with the roses. For my mother. For Lib. For the twelve-year-olds who ran beside us when we skateboarded._

I had a sudden, vague memory. Me, as a child, yelling at my brother, slapping him, knocking him hard against the wall. He got a concussion, I think. And I remember promising to God that I would never hurt someone like that again.

“I’m not going to kill _anyone_,” I mumbled.


----------



## popsprocket (May 3, 2015)

> "Everything has a price and I promise you won't be able to afford the toll if we cross paths again."


----------



## musichal (May 4, 2015)

It was a few days ago, but my favorite sentence I wrote lately reads:

*"She was not a happy person, neither down deep nor up shallow."*

Never saw or heard that expression previously, so was inordinately happy with it.


----------



## EnglishmanRob (May 4, 2015)

“That’s SO cool!” said Myra. “I’m glad the university is making up for their mistake. An anthropology trip with an English professor? You are SO lucky.”

Sarah nodded, half-heartedly. “Yeah, I guess”. She was surprised how easily the lies were coming. She thought it should have been harder to lie to her best friend.
“I bet the professor has a really sexy English accent. Maybe a moustache.  And it will just be you and the sexy professor for hours and hours, with nothing to entertain you but each others hot, naked bodies!”
Sarah punched Myra’s arm hard.
“Ha ha! Since when have moustaches been sexy? I don’t think I got that fashion memo.”
“Since fall 2013. The handlebar is really hot right now. But maybe the professor is a woman? I’ve heard anthropology is a very feminist-friendly subject. You and the Sappho-sexual professor doing ‘fieldwork’ together on the island of Lesbos!?!”
Another punch went into Myra’s arm.
“It’s definitely a guy. I told you I’ve already met him. And it’s NOT like that. I don’t like him like that. And it’s more like Romania, I think.”

Myra made a disappointed sighing noise. “How on earth am I going to get you laid with an attitude like that?”
“I don’t know. Can we drop the subject? I’m still sick from the last time I tried to get a guy into my pants. I just want to forget the whole thing, finish this packing and get an early night. Apparently I’ve getting picked up at like 6am tomorrow. Not cool.”
Myra wrapped her skinny arms around Sarah. “Sorry love. I forgot. I’m just worried about you, you know?”
“I know. I love you too cuz. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you”.
“Get lots of hot, sweaty sex with a sexy mustached English professor?”
Another punch.


----------



## amelhope (May 5, 2015)




----------



## popsprocket (May 6, 2015)

> "The world itself would move if that man willed it. You can't fight someone like that; you simply kneel and hope the storm is merciful."


----------



## musichal (May 12, 2015)

> It may be that in order to sympathize with Billy's plight, we need to recall such issues without the idealistic accoutrements often associated with our reminiscences of lost youth. Perhaps we must thaw our life-hardened natures a bit and remember warm sunny dispositions, tender hearts, and labile emotions. As Billy would solemnly tell me later, “I was saddened almost to tears because I was ostrich-sized.”


----------



## Yasin.Ghannam (May 13, 2015)

First line of a Ten Line Story, done with a friend, each writing a line:


> Yasin did the first line. He loves cocaine.


----------



## escorial (May 13, 2015)

comment in visitors book at exhibition today...made me thinks we had little but so much at the time


----------



## Kevin (May 23, 2015)

(shhh....baby's sleeping)  ---- F.B. post. I took the photo this morning. I had almost accidently  stepped on him. Pacific Coast Rattler, 2'


----------



## Phil Istine (May 23, 2015)

The favourite thing I wrote today was a big bill for a customer


----------



## JoeyMay (May 23, 2015)

It had been so long since she had seen her baby brother that he didn't seem that much of a baby anymore. His puppy fat was gone and he had grown at least an inch. Samuel looked so much like their father in his uniform that it was almost hard to believe it was him; she had never seen her eighteen year old brother look such like a man in her life. 

"I risk my life to come and visit you in your little tin hut and you don't even have a hug for me?" Sam asked with a smile. "Charming."


----------



## escorial (May 23, 2015)

enjoyed e-mail gab today with another member.....


----------



## popsprocket (May 24, 2015)

> "Yours are a black heart," she began, almost a whisper, as she ran that single finger down his palm, "and a crown of light."


----------



## Sonterp (May 30, 2015)

"Empathy, pride, honor, all of those things had no value anymore. The law along with honor were gone, the American pride, gone, the world as we knew it was gone. And the final truth to keep the world believing that good would prevail... gone. Hope... was gone. " A quote from my book The Nuclear Winter.


----------



## belthagor (May 30, 2015)

I invited like 10 people to the forums today. My favorite part of our conversations were: "I could use more members." which I then edited to: "we* could use more members"  ....... "see? not selfish... group-fish"


----------



## Foxee (May 31, 2015)

Didn't get to write a ton today but I thought this was enjoyable:



> “Yes, I'm you. A you. I mean, I'm not you, I'm me.” It was time to stop talking if that's all I was going to come up with.
> 
> “I me.” She corrected me.
> 
> ...


----------



## popsprocket (May 31, 2015)

Not sure what I'll do with this. I write random one-liners all the time, but I happen to really like the ideas hidden in this one.



> According to the stories it was somewhere in the endless ashen drift that Mercy died. He didn't know if they were just invented tales, but one look out over the land of nothing had Roman believing that a god really might have been slain here.


----------



## Bloggsworth (May 31, 2015)

I continue to be intensely irritated by the title of this thread. Just thought I'd let you know...


----------



## escorial (May 31, 2015)

so far shopping list

toilet rolls
kitchen towel


----------



## J Anfinson (Jun 1, 2015)

> Vern closed the door and Jack heard him unlocking the safety chain. When it opened, he wasn't surprised to see Vern had a pistol in the hand he'd kept hidden.
> 
> "Still getting harassed by that salesman, I take it?
> 
> Vern set the gun down on a coffee table as they entered the living room. "Nope. One look down the barrel of a .45 was all it took to convince him he was at the wrong place. I'm fairly certain the guy shit his pants the way he waddled back to his car."


----------



## ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord (Jun 3, 2015)

They never looked anyone in the eye, except their superiors; their eyes were always set on a nonexistent faraway object. But as they marched past my window, one of them did not walk with the usually stiffness. He slumped, cradling his gun. He walked as if every evil thing in the world rested on his shoulders, as if he was possessed by all the demons of all his ancestors.


----------



## popsprocket (Jun 15, 2015)

> "You're about as hardcore as a twelve year old white boy with his first Eminem album."


----------



## Velvet0Alchemy (Jun 15, 2015)

"Who could help but be... well, infected? That smile glittered with precious pearls. They might've been a little crooked, but that's one of the things that got you. The longer you looked, the more this happyness bacteria took over your body. It start as little smirk on the corners of your lips because she was doing something silly. Then she'd realise she looked funny, and smile the biggest, brightest, warmest smile in all of creation. Even though you felt bad, you'd start grinning wider, until you just couldn't help but giggle along with her. 
Her laugh is the fatal blow. It sounded something between a sheep and a donkey, but it was so sincere and unabashed, that after a few minutes, you, too, guffawed and chortled like some weird animal hybrid. Once it started, the infection could last for hours on end, every ounce of fun and happyness extracted from your body until all you can do is sleep, and dream of what will start it off tomorrow."


----------



## popsprocket (Jun 29, 2015)

> Ava gave him that gentle smile and caressed his nape with soft fingers. For just a moment the world didn't seem so loud. "No matter what," she said, "I will *always* be on your side."


----------



## CurtisDawson (Jul 3, 2015)

The favorite thing that I wrote today was my grocery list. Not a very productive day.


----------



## Snowflake (Jul 4, 2015)

CurtisDawson said:


> The favorite thing that I wrote today was my grocery list. Not a very productive day.


I forgot to write a grocery list so applause for you!

  I've be wondering about this paragraph all day. Maybe my main character's overreacting.  I'm a newbie. 

(left off first sentence) *It felt as if my blood slowly drained from  my soul in quick tiny droplets. Just the thought of what had happened left me bereft; it  made no sense.  It seemed as though the air itself leaked oxygen and it became harder to breath.   As I waited, I glanced at my watch, then the phone, then my watch again, pacing the office  as if the earth had suddenly deflated into a flat, lifeless heap of decay.  My world would soon end.   *


----------



## J Anfinson (Jul 5, 2015)

> Vern picked up a thermos from among the piles of papers and brought it to his lips. His shirt sleeve slipped over his bicep, exposing his tattoo.
> 
> 
> _Semper Fi_. And below that, _I Survived Hill 838.
> ...


----------



## Angelwing (Jul 7, 2015)

I feel a wee bit evil for writing this lol. 



> He placed his boot on the previous rebel’s chest and forced him onto the ground. Then he slid his boot up to his neck. The captives were startled.





> “Why don’t I give you a chance to tell us about your nice weapons; where are they from? What direction did the shipment come from?! That is, if you value your life.”
> 
> “Ha, you won’t, you were too weak-willed to fight alongside us, us true Thessians, and you’re too weak-willed now--” Armanis Pasztor jammed the bore of his rifle against the man’s knee and pulled the trigger. The man made his pain known to all.
> 
> ...




I'm sorry, I just can't help but love the "No." lol.


----------



## John Galt (Jul 9, 2015)

*Bad language ahead, censored for sensitive people*

_No, _he thought. _I'm not mad, not like my father.  I refuse to be.  All the gods of all the men, and all their witches and fairies too.  F*** them, they can keep their punishments.  And I'll keep my sense.  Every last whisper of it.    _


----------



## JustRob (Jul 9, 2015)

I don't write my favourite things immediately but let them ferment in my mind for a while. That's when they really are my intellectual property, maybe never to be released into reality. Here's just the opening of today's favourite sequence, which continues _in the best possible taste_, to quote Cupid Stunt. No, really it does.

"She knew that she was dreaming for she'd been counting sheep in an attempt to wake up when she'd spotted the young shepherd and lost count ... "


----------



## popsprocket (Aug 9, 2015)

> "You know what happens to good people? They are very quickly forgotten."


----------



## chase1423 (Sep 16, 2015)

"As I reached the foyer of my house, the fictional walls made of memories hit me like a freight train as the aroma of my mother's pancakes filled my nostrils." I actually did not write this today but yesterday.. have not done any writing today actually but later on I plan to go write a little!


----------



## popsprocket (Sep 19, 2015)

> Shortly after his birth, an oracle had divined that Aren was fated to scour the whole world with fire. But, that didn't sound like much fun to him, so he ran away to join a travelling circus instead.


----------



## J Anfinson (Sep 20, 2015)

He didn’t want to open the door. Jack stood poised with his hand inches from the knob, his mind screaming to get back in the car and go. He could mash the pedal to the floor and leave behind only the smell of burnt rubber and tire marks on the pavement.

Instead he gripped the knob and turned it. The door opened on dry, rusty hinges, the sound sending a shiver down his back. Within the house there was only silence and he was glad. He’d almost expected to hear her call out to him.

_Come on in, Jackie Boy. I’ve got something for you.
_
_Not this time_, he thought. _You’re dead. And I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore_.


----------



## Riptide (Sep 24, 2015)

The Queen held up her head, her chin away from the table to skewer Faye with a side glare. “We wouldn't want to trouble our rider before dinner, now would we?”


----------



## hoihoisoi (Sep 24, 2015)

I wrote a fictional piece on the experience of consciousness and the rebutting facts of its existence, spoken by a machine to a man. It's the kind of piece where I look at and feel it touches a large part of a grey area which is an exciting area explore, but then again, writing those kinds of pieces frequently tithers between logic and a somewhat twisted convoluted idea which may make the piece sound like it takes itself way too seriously. It probably needs a whole lot of editing and proof reading in the coming days, hope it can come off as believable but there will always be some element of oddness to the piece. If anyone is interested, you can give it a read in a blog post I'm posting up next weekend. To put to perspective:

“Subconscious.” The machine spoke in its eerie mechanical voice. “I do have background applications running whenever I am turned on but I do believe it does not match with the definition input within my database.” It stopped. “I believe it is something I have never experienced before as well.”


----------



## jbishop15 (Sep 29, 2015)

Did he really want to know? 

He had spent a lot of time searching for an answer; he had spent a lot of time searching for the truth. He had wanted to know, once.

But now, as he stood with only a door between him and the rest of his life, he wasn't even sure he knew what he what question he was asking; more importantly,he was afraid that the truth he was about to hear would answer a question he had never asked.

Alex opened the door.


----------



## popsprocket (Oct 24, 2015)

> On the other end of a 2AM phone call his oldest friend in the world sobbed uncontrollably as she told him that her mother had just died. Four years since he had seen home. Four years since he had last heard from Felicity. Four years and half the world apart and he was still the first person that she had called.
> 
> Beck ran a free hand through his hair and exhaled gently as he listened to the tears.
> 
> "I'll be there soon, wait for me," he said finally, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I'm coming."


----------



## Riptide (Nov 1, 2015)

The bike worked like an unoiled machine. It showed signs of some real talent, yet age and the wrong conditions whittled away at it until it roared at every pebble, sputtered at every dip, and whined when breaking. Somehow, she liked it.


----------



## popsprocket (Nov 9, 2015)

> "I see you're absent your typical entourage of tittering nitwits." She smiled sweetly.


----------



## Hairball (Nov 11, 2015)

I work at Walmart as a customer service manager (CSM). Today I ran a register for a little while, register #9. After half an hour of fighting with it, this is what I wrote on a Post-It note and stuck it to the podium where all the other CSMs and managers could see it:

"Get that @#$%&!! scale fixed on #9 or I'm going to fix it myself...with a camping ax."


----------



## Minu (Nov 11, 2015)

The smirk was as slow as molasses and just as rich as the Devil poured the Priest a glass. "Think nothing of it, Father."


----------



## TJ1985 (Nov 11, 2015)

> If that's the best idea you've got, let's just write it down that you don't have any ideas to share at this time, okay?


----------



## aj47 (Nov 11, 2015)

My November Poetry Challenge entry.   The Big Bang Theory.


----------



## popsprocket (Nov 16, 2015)

This:



> "He wears the light because it's the only way to keep the darkness at bay."


----------



## Jeko (Nov 16, 2015)

"Tried reading your manifesto on the toilet and couldn't work out who was really taking the piss."


----------



## Riptide (Nov 19, 2015)

He jogged up the stairs and hesitated at her closed door. He would ask her to come over for dinner at his place tomorrow, but would it be moving too fast? He shook his head, scrunching his face in a scowl at the thought. Grampa offered, it wasn’t like a date or anything. He snorted at his stupidity and opened the door. Glimmering moonlight flitted from an open window with the nippy breeze gracing the curled and sleeping Cyn. In her arms, nestled near her stomach, was the cat Coco. Coco wasn’t asleep and hissed a throaty, rumbling warning towards Jasper.


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## J Anfinson (Nov 28, 2015)

_Great_, John thought. _I’m naked in an attic and people are wanting to kill me. What next?_


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## popsprocket (Dec 1, 2015)

> In exchange for their services - tidying up disreputable acts committed by reputable people - The Gaslight Company only had two rules. First, payments were to be made in liquid assets at the client's earliest convenience. Second, no Technician from the Company was ever to be harmed in any fashion. Anyone who broke the first rule was likely to find a dead body or two in their house at around the same time the constables came knocking on their door. *Everyone* who broke the second rule ended up disappeared so thoroughly that even their closest friends began to doubt they had existed at all.
> 
> Layla did the unthinkable, and truly suicidal, when she broke both rules at once.


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## Riptide (Dec 1, 2015)

Pivoting his head left and right, he searched endlessly the stretch of road. Where was she? He found himself on a road parallel to a once fine church. Its toppling structure stood in stark contrast to what it used to be. A magnificent landmark of holy refuge. Now a rat invested remembrance of a time long gone. He jogged to the chained gate. The protruding grave stones of century dead bodies rotted the pathway to the church, where angels and saint even looked away. He laced his fingers into the rose vines. Each prick of the thorns watered his eyes.


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## Dave Watson (Dec 2, 2015)

"Aldo was pretty good at making his guitar gently weep, but Bale made that old violin scream like a gang rape victim."


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## popsprocket (Dec 18, 2015)

> "There isn't a petty fortune in all the world that I would sell the souls of these people for."


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## dale (Dec 18, 2015)

i actually HAVE been doing some writing today, i'm finishing part 2 of this novel this weekend if it kills me....



> He began to snore. A sound I’ll always associate with peace. I was happy he had wrapped himself in that warm blanket of darkness. Away from me. Away from the waking nightmares I knew would always accompany me. The room became like a fairy tale to me. Only in this tale, it was the prince who ate the poison apple and fell asleep. And no kiss of mine would wake him. I wept.


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## J Anfinson (Mar 6, 2016)

"Instead of complain, what do we do?"
"We fix the problem."
"If it can't be fixed, what do we do?"
"We put em on ice."


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## Blue (Mar 7, 2016)

"The trick was to separate those which possessed that indomitable determination for success, the hungry drive to win, to filter those whom had a near super human stamina, crushing strength and head spinning speed from the majority mediocrity. The Trials were to prove who was worthy of such high calibre training, it was a chance for the few whom wanted to succeed, needed to succeed more than inhalation to show they were strong enough, brave enough, tough enough to take on the challenge"

This wasn't particularly outstanding, but I just liked it


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