The funeral was a beautiful one, held under a canopy of cherryblossom trees, the sun shone brightly, just peeking over the smattering of clouds that grazed the bright blue sky.
All was beautiful except for the sobs that fell from Tony’s lips. He had cried nonstop ever since He saw Belle take her last breath, that last sharp intake, and that slow fall. Her slender fingers uncurled, the grip he had become so accustomed to was gone for good.
She...

what does it mean to be similar?
to have nothing in common
what does it mean to be different?
to have everything be the same

parents that love you and that are proud
but never show up to prove it 
"actions speak louder than words"
but only when you do it 

siblings that love you because they must
but fight with you over nothing
i'm only here to make it through 
the first eighteen years with you

a grandma meant to...

It is said that every river If you missed the original announcement post, I recommend you read it here.
I will read and comment on every piece, and review every piece that isn't something like a Q&A. Tag your piece with the tag in parentheses or post your piece in the comments.

Day 1 (#constellation or #SFOW1): Write a short story based on a constellation (recommended less than 1000 words).

Day 2 (#brokendream or #SFOW2): Write a character who...

"I'm better than you!" you scream, you spew.
I know you're wrong, at least I think I do.
You punch, you kick, and I deflect,
Is this a trick? To the past, I reflect.

We were just friends; it came to an end.
before we were hating, we found ourselves dating.
Too young to know about true love.
We were mistaken. There was a lack thereof.

And here we are, years after that.
You call me gay, I call you...

                You hold a promise. A promise to the derived, the homeless and to the future of mankind. You hold a promise: that your regrets, your mistakes, your failures, will soon undoubtedly become one of your greatest accomplishments. You hold one to yourself; throwing that promise away only drags you into a pit of anguishes.
                You are the people. We are the people. So, let’s not drive people down to their grave. While some are picking out whether their...

Yellow is the color of daffodils swaying to the breeze in the meadow,
Yellow looks like bees swooping in to pollinate the daffodils,
Yellow tastes like lemons with peppermint sticks at the Renaissance Fair,
Yellow smells like freshly poached eggs in the kitchen,
Yellow feels like the sun’s rays sticking to your body at the beach,
Yellow sounds like the beating of drums under a light lute,
Yellow is the color of optimism and creativity and sunshine,
Yellow is the...

Nostalgia is…
Sepia like old comedies in the living room
Brown like hot chocolate at the skate rink
Fuzzy like classical music on the radio
Effervescent like a bottle of well-aged champagne
Familiar like a library full of cobwebs
Crowded like a large ballroom full of dancers
Distant like a word on the tip of a tongue
Cha Chas like a spunky flapper on a Friday night
Nostalgia is the past that brings you back.

                You hold a promise. A promise to the derived, the homeless and to the future of mankind. You hold a promise: that your regrets, your mistakes, your failures, will soon undoubtedly become one of your greatest accomplishments. You hold one to yourself; throwing that promise away only drags you into a pit of anguishes.
                You are the people. We are the people. So, let’s not drive people down to their grave. While some are picking out whether their...

Description: Hey all,today is October seventeenth,the seventeenth day of the Halloween season! Today's poem is about Mister Twitch,a creepy,mysterious,and especially dangerous phantom who has shall we say...macabre habits that frighten children and adults alike every Halloween! What are these habits? Read and find out! Enjoy!

Rated: K+ or T (for some frightening stuff)


Watch out for Mister Twitch

The Phantom of the Night

He's as creepy as a ghoul and powerful as a witch

Doing deeds that give everyone...

The world, in the manner of all things, will end;
I hope I will have made someone smile that day.

    You know, life is confusing. There is always someone claiming to have figured it out, the secret to navigating the world. They are always wrong. There is no "secret formula" to ace tests. No way to really figure it out. 
    In seventh and eighth grade I studied Latin. The longer I studied, the deeper I fell into a linguistic pit. Instead of being able to understand the more I pored over books, letters would break free...

    
And so the machinery shuts down
and so the gears stop turning
and so I begin to shut down
and so I begin to fade
Lacking strength, lacking power, lacking
lacking any more victims to steal
lacking sight, lacking eyes
lacking breath
Collapsing is my power and my hope
collapsing is my consciousness
collapsing onto the floor
collapsing is my body
Forget me, for I was weak, and not worthy
forget me, for I must be gone for a reason ...

    Yelling, why are they yelling. Why could two people a child would think love each other so much yell so much. They would always tell her not to yell and not to fight, but why do they? When they assume their child sleeps they remove their kind mask and begin to battle. A war would break out over nothing. It always ends up the same the father never won. Change was occurring right outside her room yet she was oblivious....

What to do if the person you'd take a bullet for is the one holding the trigger?

She told me she'd be around when the sky swallowed her whole.

I ran away from home. Only to return.

At the gates, someone asked, "Oh, did life taste sweet?"

Sonya died. My hopes did, too.

"Do you remember how to feel?" I ask my new self in the mirror.

Eyes closed. Lips sealed. Let's begin to scream. Inside my head.

Give me...

In my world I am blind, unable to see
But living in darkness does not bother me
My world smells of pine, grass, and dirt
Although I walk on needles, nothing seems to hurt
I'm scarred and scratched, torn into shreds
Stitched back together, held up by threads
I can't say I'm happy nor am I sad
not scared scared at all, just twisted and mad
I live in my world, how quaint is it
But it's a real mess,...

Oh, to go back in time,
to the future, where all is held.
We led ourselves astray, in prime,
and watched our successes crumble. 

We let ourselves down.

We found ourselves in the rubble. 

What once was, is lost
and found again. 
To find out what it cost,
look at all that's gone. 
 

As soon as the door opens, a rush of warmth and cat fur gathers at my feet. The sun prefers to illuminate the dust on the floorboards than light the room directly.
Everything would be quiet, but the cat's meowing.