So, today I'm going to be outlining an alternate history of WW2 that I thought of. Let's start.
Ah... tiny Luxembourg. Making friends with the other democracies. Wait, why did they elect a communist representative? OK... I guess they're going communist.
Skipping ahead until Luxembourg went Communist.
OK, all the democracies don't love Luxembourg anymore. Also, Luxembourg has made friends with the Soviets. Oh, join the Comintern. Luxembourg wants to stage a communist coup in France? Wait, does Luxembourg want to declare war on Belgium?
Now instead of a weird narrative, the events are just listed.
Luxembourg declares war on Belgium.
Belgium joins Allies, calling them in.
A communist coup starts in France.
France joins Allies.
Communist France joins Comintern.
Germany declares war on Poland.
Poland joins allies.
Netherlands goes communist.
Netherlands joins Comintern.
Communist France pushed back to Brittany.
The border there is a stalemate, but to capitulate Communist France,...
Can you guys please comment some ideas for me? I currently have none. Thanks.
So I kinda quit writing everything that I was writing, so that means the third book in Zoom (which I stopped a while ago), Zu-Zu Zoomba (which I might revisit) and then I can't remember anything else. One thing though, there is this little quiz you do where you can find out what kind of government you are. When I did it the first time I got Social Democrat, which actually sounds quite right for me. All you have to do is rate the phrase if you like it or not, and the dot on the grid will move depending on what you chose. If anyone does this, comment what you got. So at this point, I'm rambling a little. So, bye guys.
This is even more useless than the 1st one. And shorter. I'm just writing to pass the time.
I can't really think of anything to write. Well, don't take this seriously guys.
Have you ever realized how you always hear about people with missing limbs are always heroes or really talented? I mean, does missing a limb motivate you to want to do something? Also have you realized there are games where there are things to buy with real money like weapons; it seems unfair, basically the rich people get the good weapons. It should be based of of experience, like if you play and get this many wins and blah blah blah then you get credits for that and then you can buy weapons and stuff.
I'm actually scared for the next generations because our generation is making a lot of mistakes and is really dumb. In the future, will eating tide pods be the way to get accepted...
Danny lowered the turkey into the deep fryer, and he thought he heard a "gobble gobble". He ignored it, thinking it was his imagination. As he lowered the turkey further, he heard a louder gobble. Then, when the very bottom of the turkey touched the water, it came alive and jumped out onto the ground.
It slowly became more lively, growing back it's head and feathers. It cocked it's head back and forth, checking Danny out.
Then, it gave a cry, and Danny could hear rumbling in the distance. He looked, and saw an army of animals running towards him. Turkeys, chickens, pigs, cows, fish, and a lot of other animals people eat. They were even piled on top of each other.
It got closer, and Danny was swallowed in a sea of animals. They got their revenge.
Over the course of the next few days, the animals...
I have really not a lot of ideas for writing, and if I do have an idea I have little time. I kinda burnt myself out by posting like 3 times a day. I might be inactive for a little bit with small little things here and there for a few weeks, but I'll try to write more in the summer.
Does the food competition story have to be true or can it be a work of fiction?
Overthrow the Czar,
And all of its trash.
Form the USSR;
Forever it shall last!
We owe ourselves to Lenin,
Who made us all glad.
We know we are not far
From the greatest at last!
Stalin lead us on,
On a straight and bright path!
Run right through Poland,
And then go straight past!
Take a bunch of states as buffer zones
So countries cannot pass!
The beat we're gonna smash
with the Bolshevik Bash!
Same as last time. I am italics and Sam is bold.
The Bold text is Sam and the italics text is me.
Oh, the struggles of not being able to pause for a period, but I guess a lot of people
talk like this, they don't pause at all and when they end up finishing they have to
take a really big breathe and then they say it was worth being out of breath for
that long just to get out the information that they wanted to get out, even if it
is completely unimportant and they wasted their breath for something that wont
even change the world or affect anything but still they talk and talk a lot,
but talking is a way to transfer information and that can be useful sometimes, but
another way to transfer information is through the internet and that's way better
because no-one talks anymore and if the internet didn't exist I probably wouldn't be
writing this story right now because I wouldn't be on this website and the universe
probably would have been torn apart...
I just have little inspiration for writing at the moment and very little time. Also, I'm writing Zu Zu Zoomba, so I've been a little inactive. I just thought I should let people know so they don't conspire theories about it.
I'm writing something. It's gonna be good.
Here's the title:
Zu-Zu Zoomba: The Keirei Edition — Chapter 37 Fanfiction Pt. 1
"Let's invade Poland!" said literally everyone.
Germany, Russia, Rome, just to name a few.
Let's look at a map to see how many.
OK, that's a lot. Literally everyone in Europe.
Except Switzerland. They just spectate.
But I'm not focussing on Switzerland.
None of the Balkans were involved, but they're pretty far away.
Spain and Portugal were too busy listening to Despacito to do anything.
And the Netherlands was to busy trying to relocate themselves into the ocean.
The rest of Benelux was too busy being invaded by Germany to do anything.
If only Poland formed the Międzymorze, then they wouldn't get invaded as often.
But it failed.
And this happens.
I'm extra bored so I'm just going to ramble on WtW. I just finished my math test so I have nothing to do. I'm just going to type thoughts as they come. OK, here we go.
You know those people that say a lot of things in one sentence and don't stop to start another sentence until they run out of breath? And they don't put any commas in; they just keep talking. That's how a lot of people talk, right?
And I have an interesting paradox thing for you. If you are lying to say you are lying, then are you lying or telling the truth? You could think about that for a long time.
I might do a QnA on WtW at some point, maybe when I'm more popular. I'll post a story and you can post your questions, and then sometime later I'll answer them all in another story. ...
When someone asks you what you're doing,
You say nothing.
When your parents ask you what you learned in school today,
You say nothing.
When someone asks you what's in the empty cup,
You say nothing.
But there can't really be nothing.
You are always doing something,
you are always learning something,
there is always something in the cup.
But is there actually nothing?
Doesn't a vacuum have nothing?
If there is silence, is there nothing?
Does a white page count as nothing?
Nothing is an enigmatic mystery.
Is nothing something, or is it nothing?
Can there be nothing, if there is always something?
Nothing will stop the questions about nothing.
Your eyes let you see things.
Some of them you want to see
and some of them you don't.
Your eyes see the colors.
Some of them have pleasant shades
and some them just don't.
Your eyes let you read this.
Some of these words you like to read
and some of them you don't.
Your eyes let you look at this rather repetitive poem
And you wish that something new would happen
So your eyes made you see it.
Guys! The government is paying me a lot of money to keep secrets that I figured out and I don't want to keep those secrets anymore. The government could assassinate me for this... so goodbye in advance.
One of the secrets is that the earth is not flat, it's not round, but it is a triangular prism. So all flat-earthers, all round-earthers, and all octahedron-earthers are wrong. It feels really good to tell you; but also really bad because I could get killed for this.
Another secret is that the titanic was built by a 15 year old boy in Tennessee. It didn't sink because of an iceberg; the boy just turned off the motors from a remote control in Tennessee.
Yet another secret (that some of you may know already) is that Wyoming doesn't exist. No matter how convinced you are that it is real, it actually isn't real. Every time...
So, I thought I should stick to a schedule. I know I probably won't very well but I have some ideas.
1. A story in the morning
2. A story around noon.
3. A story in the afternoon, at 4-6.
4. If I can't in the morning, a story at night and finished in the morning.
This is just my vague ideas put on paper (text?). Tell me what you think about it and if it is confusing.
Sitting there in the last period of the day.
But thinking of nothing to do.
Turning on music.
The music helping a little.
Sitting at home.
Ignoring the things that could be done.
Complaining about being bored.
Sitting in the car.
Forgetting to bring the phone.
Absent-mindedly staring out the window.
Writing a story on Write the World.
Trying to think of good ideas.
While walking in the woods, you stumble upon a small clearing. It isn't big enough for the trees to pull apart; allowing no sunlight to shine through. There are several boulders, and you notice one shaped like a chair.
I should rest here, you think.
Once you settle in, you begin to notice the beauty of the clearing. The grass is a lush green color, and several plants grow out of it. You hear the trickle of water. You notice that a stream runs through the clearing.
You notice that the air has a green tint to it, almost like the plants are coloring the air. The air is warm, and a small breeze drifts through.
This is so peaceful, you think. Then, you start to feel drowsy in your rock and fall asleep.
You wake up, refreshed, and almost immediately know something is wrong. What's all that noise...
The bird says hello.
With a little dove "coo" sound.
In this bad haiku.
but most importantly
Someone toucha my spaghet
*searches on google*
where's the fbi?
Son why is the FBI at our door?
Oh now I can't remember any more memes.
So, recently I have been getting so much support lately and I just want to say "thank you" to all the people who have been supporting me. I will be shouting out most of them. Shoutout to Foxmillionaire!, 16missing, Kaitlyn ❄︎, Bluelion55555, Darth Plagueis the Wise66, and many more (comment if you weren't mentioned).
I could have done this for like a 20 follower special but that would take too long. But thank you guys again for liking my pieces.
I sit there pleasantly, clacking away at the keys.
Every word I typed ends up on the screen.
That's nice, I think.
My bliss grows.
It doesn't rhyme.
I think, pleasantly.
But poems sound nice that way too...
I think, still typing.
Sam doesn't think so though.
I read what I am writing.
Like happiness bouncing on a trampoline
and straight into your face.
I start to get even more cheerful.
I imagine someone reading rhythmically.
It sounds so nice, the rhythm.
Keep helping, brain, I think.
Your giving me inspiration.
For this non-rhyming poem.
But there is something I can't possibly omit
And it is the most wonderful couplet.
Half of writing is thinking.
You can't write without thinking.
You can't do anything without thinking.
That's why you need to think.
So, as you see from the title, I took on the mail challenge or whatever kids are calling it. I shipped myself to Write the World headquarters. The journey was long, and I packed some food (but I ran out like halfway through. Time was kinda weird in there). It was cramped and uncomfortable, but I survived.
Surprisingly, HQ looked like my house. Well, it looks like my house. I haven't left it yet. I whipped out my computer to tell you this. I'm gonna go inside and see all the admins and stuff. I'm so excited. This doesn't happen to people that often, you know.
Here I go. I'm going to nock. OK, that's weird. My mom answered. I asked her what she was doing here. She looked really confused. OK, now I'm confused. I told her I shipped myself to WtW HQ. Then I figured it out; I won the competition.
There was a lad named Jimmy. He threw a horrible temper tantrum. He raged. He fumed. He broke his new TV. That poor old Jimmy...
Inside of us, there a beast.
It wants to escape.
But we don't let it.
We know the consequences.
But sometimes, we let it out.
And there it is.
It destroys everything close to you.
It leaves you as an empty shell.
So, Kidthrills released an explanation on why he doesn't write poems, so I decided to tell why I write a lot of poems. Writing a fiction story is kinda hard because you need to have characters, a plot line, etc. and I'm to impatient to come up with that stuff.
So instead, I write poems. Poems can be about anything. They don't necessarily need characters and they don't even have to rhyme. Also, I like the repetition in poems, and how they flow. I don't get bored of poems as easily, so they end up longer (for me).
Also, I like the challenge. You have to carefully pick out rhymes and/or figure out a way for it to flow nicely. When writing a fiction story, especially in first-person, it can be really easy to do. (Yes, I know earlier I said they were hard) All you need are adjectives, a plot, characters, and you have some...
First, there's the deep rumble of thunder,
And you run to hide down under
Your bed. Then the wind picks up
With frightening gusts.
There's a storm coming.
Then, the rain starts,
And washes away your chalk art.
You sadly watch through the murk,
As the rain washes away your hard work.
There's a storm raging.
Then, lightning flashes
And you cover your eyelashes,
Too afraid to peek.
You pray and hope the storm will leave.
There's a storm raging.
Then, you hear then pitter-patter of hail
And the howl of a gale,
And a banging sound,
Thats coming from all around.
There's a tornado swirling.
That was the tornado that gave you the fright,
But too bad that was on your last night.
There you are, floating in space.
Galaxies surround you.
You enter the closest one, a beautiful spiral galaxy.
Then, a nebula appears.
With blue and purple hues, with red mixed in, it captivates you.
You move closer.
You see a family of stars, and are curious.
You move closer.
You select one, a blue one, and move closer.
Then, a few dots appear.
They must be planets, you think.
They are planets.
You pick the first one—the brightest one—and move closer.
The dot separates.
You realize that the planet has moons.
You move closer.
Then, you see that the dot is a stunning blue gas giant.
Moons circle it.
It has a massive icy ring system.
At the center, the massive blue sphere shrouded in clouds grabs your attention.
Mixed into the blue, purple and brown swirl around.
Several hurricanes rage through the clouds.
This is absolutely beautiful, you think.
As you watch the planet slowly spin.
You focus your...
The first little sliver; It rises.
Then half of the apple; It rises still.
Now the whole thing appears; Yet it rises still.
And it slowly changes to orange, to yellow; and climbs higher into the sky.
As you can see, I have been writing and publishing a ton of stories lately. It's almost becoming a problem. Which is why I have decided to limit myself to a maximum of one upload a day. When I decide to write longer stories, it will take longer. I just can't keep banging out low quality work like this.
Sorry for the inconveniences,
The tiny points of light in the sky,
Stars twinkle overhead.
The moon shines,
bathing the world in a surreal blue light.
In the night...
Like a fiery ball of death, it hangs there.
Like an orange in the sky, it hangs there.
With a hellish red glare, it hangs there.
Then it's gone.
Why can't I get more attention?
Why can't the world be better?
Why can't capitalism fall?
And be replaced with a communist regime?
Why can't I stop with communist jokes?
I am now a meme.
On the fourth evening of February, a tornado was unleashing it's wrath upon a city. Debris was being flung all over. Many frightened families were huddling in their basements, with a few valuables and radio (or a phone). They were trying to forget about having to start their lives over.
People were just as frightened on a plane that was unlucky enough to fly into the tornado and tumble around. When the flight attendants heard the tornado, they told everyone to buckle their* seat belts. With the majority of the people strapped in, injuries were avoided.
The pilot, knowing the model of the plane was newer, and the material of the plane could withstand the debris impacts, could relax slightly (he didn't have to dodge debris).
The plane was rotating around the tornado, and the pilot had to go full throttle at the perfect time to break free. If done wrong, the plane would...
On the fourth evening of February, a massive tempest was unleashing its wrath upon a city. Chilling rain was falling heavily. Many families were in their cozy homes, enjoying a nice warm meal, trying to blissfully ignore the weather. But things were a little less blissful on a plane struggling to get to it's destination* (hopefully sometime that night). Heavy turbulence, babies crying, and flight attendants pointlessly trying to calm everyone down made the plane quite the madhouse.
The pilot thought of two possible options; he had to land at the airport in the storm, or crash into the newly built suburbs surrounding the airport. He chose the former, but doing so would be very difficult.
As the airport drew closer, the pilot knew he had a very small opportunity to succeed. He would have to assume the height of the trees and houses wouldn't block his low angle. At this point, he was...
What are you doing here?! This is an untitled book. Wait.... You thought this would be something? But- but the title! You couldn't have expected this to be something! Well, since you're here, I might as well tell you something.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.... Wait! Why does it feel like I've heard that before? Let's try something else.
It was a dark and stormy night.... Nah, too cliche. I need something original. Quick! Readers, comment ideas down below. Oh... you can't. Riiiiiiiiiigghhhtt. This hasn't been published yet. Um... I'm all out of ideas. Thank you for your time (that you just wasted) and I bid you all a farewell. Geo: out!