1780

Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

United States

13 years old.
In love with books.
Ranger's Apprentice. 1
Dawn of Wonder. 2
Wings of Fire. 3
Warriors. 4
Percy Jackson. 5

ENFP-T

Coldplay.
Beatles.

Guitarist.
Artist.
Screamer.
Lover.
Actor.

Join Date: September 12, 2018

Message from Writer

I have found that what I put here before was very deep.
Nah...
Just wanted to say hi.
So hello.

And remember that whoever you are, however you look, in what way you think, what you drink, how you express yourself, how you write, what music you listen to, and even how long your fingernails are, the only real thing about you is what you decide to be.

Who am I?

December 10, 2018

PROMPT: Polar Opposite

3
    I sat on the front porch, staring out into a red sun, coating the smoke of the factories in a rainbow sheen. My hands interlaced, and I'm bent down sitting on the first two steps—out of three—that lead up to my house. It was an old broken down thing, paint chipping off the walls and shattered beams barely holding up the frail structure.
    Those painted sunsets in the sky had me confused; how is it that someone can be so many things? I realized that the color wasn't natural, but honestly, I had nowhere else to turn than artificial. My mother still worked eight jobs and didn't get an ounce of sleep, and my eight siblings didn't make it any easier; I worked the local gas station and ate nothing better than food I bought for the family, which mostly consisted of microwaved ramen and stale un-organic bread. 
    People always say they wish their lives were simpler. No siree, not me. But I was stuck in a small house, in a small American town, in a nowhere city that ran on the coal, smoke, sweat, and blood of underpaid workers. I wasn't going anywhere. I heard static, then a song came on from a faulty radio. Not one I remembered, but not like I cared. Music was evil. All it was about was fake people saying they were sorry, or telling a story that no one wanted to here. Me and my family. That's the extent of my devotion.
    Sitting on my front porch, five-year-old converse stuck to my feet, I slurped a bowl of ramen while hearing a song I'd heard countless times before but never really listened to, and I watched the sunset of a million colors and a million more stories, while time walked away and left me behind.
    

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  • December 10, 2018 - 6:45pm (Now Viewing)

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