Hi!! I'm gonna do a Q&A for you guys, so feel free to ask me questions in the comments. I will try to answer as many as I can.
Growing up, my life was pretty easy. Sure, I had the occasional homework that I had to stay up for. My friend and I argued a lot, but we always made up the very next day. We were inseparable. In addition to her, I had several other friends, and was very open with myself. Smiling was easy back then. But bit by bit, my life became harder.
Moving to California was the first step towards the hardships I suffer nowadays. It was not all too bad, seeing as nearly everyone was kind, funny, understanding, forgiving, selfless. The kids there managed to break my walls and bring me out of my cocoon in less than one day. They were incredibly nice, and didn't exclude me just because I was the new kid, or had an accent that they were not used to. Everyone there taught me American customs. I learned school games like tetherball and handball. I taught myself...
One thing every leader, and every great person needs is humility. You must be able to be selfless and have the ability to view opposing sides and step down to others. I think humility is a great trait for one to have, and certainly one that I wish I had more of.
Kindness is not only the ability to be nice and helpful to others, but also to be empathetic. To view yourself in one's shoes is one step closer to understanding them. One step closer to helping them.
The trait that never lets you give up. This is what keeps us going in the toughest moments of our lives, and unfortunately, it's not something everyone possesses. But it is something we can gain. It is something that we can learn and it will help us persevere and move forward.
Where would we be if we didn't ask...
I need help. Like seriously. I have been getting zero comments, likes, and reviews lately. I understand that it is partially my fault because I haven't published any pieces lately, but it's very hard when you have
1) zero ideas
2) no feedback
3) no one who reads your stuff even when you do publish
4) no time
I would really appreciate some help, preferably in useful comments and reviews, just so that I can write a bit better because that's what I'm on this site for. Getting only likes is very frustrating, and I've also wanted comments or reviews that offer constructive criticism. Any help would be deeply appreciated.
I dealt with fake friends for a really long time. They weirdest part was that at the beginning of the year, those girls had been the most cruel to me, and yet I managed to befriend them. But I suppose was known for weird, as one of the girls had called me. I'm proud that people think of me as if I'm different, I really am, but it doesn't change the fact that the little comment was made to hurt.
I was constantly used, ranging from teaching the monkey bars to easy algebra for the Talented and Gifted test. I wasted an awful lot of time, never letting my patience run out. That was the biggest mistake I ever made. They would interrupt me when I was talking, all to say the most useless, stupid things. They asked me weird questions with malicious grins on their faces, and sometimes I had to lie to protect my...
I didn’t want to move to Texas. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t a bad state; I was just hesitant to leave the people I’d known for three years, the ones who had helped me build a life in California after leaving my home in India. We moved to Texas for the same reason we came to the U.S.: my mom got a job offer. And it sucked!! I hated it, at first.
The beginning of fourth grade was fantastic. I had one week with my friends, one week to have fun with them, and one week to say goodbye. But it became two. I couldn’t believe my luck! But it just made coming to Texas all the more horrible, because it was one weeks worth more of memories to sift through while I sat all by myself on the benches at recess.
I remember walking into the classroom. My teacher telling the class that they had a new...
Thank you, those who decided to participate in my contest! Really appreciated being able to read all of your wonderful entries and your effort. That being said, here are the winners:
In first place, I have Keke's Death Bed by weirdo
In second is Mango by Big Blue
And for third place, I have Cold Bargain by Anha
Thank you all so much for participating in this. There is one other entry that you guys can read:
June 16, 2018 by Quille
And I did have one more entry, as you might have noticed. Unfortunately, the piece got censored, much to my surprise and disappointment. Make sure to check out Xavier Nelson's account as he was the fifth contestant.
FOR ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO JOINED MY CONTEST, YOUR DEADLINE IS FEBRUARY 28, 2019!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I seriously think about 99.99% of you people who joined my contest have forgotten because I have received only 3 entries (one of which got censored, but I don't care 'cause I'm still considering it). If you have written and published your piece, I didn't get it because it wasn't tagged with #spearmintcontest. Once again, YOUR DEADLINE IS THE END OF THIS MONTH.
To my 34 new friends who I didn't have to meet in person; I got to know them through their words.
Thank you. Thank you for your support, you kindness, and your encouragement that you have shown me every step of the the way. Thank you for helping me grow greater, and teaching me things I never knew before. Thank you for sharing your words with me. And biggest of all, I think, is thank you for bringing my friendship circle up from 2 to so many more. I have been on WtW for a bit now, several months, really, and never did I expect to become so attached to people I didn't even meet, or see, or know the real names of.
I didn't know anything about you when I opened this site as a new user. I didn't know what I would write. I didn't know what I would read. And I didn't know that you guys could...
1) Love—the one thing other than fear that pushes you to be better for others
2) Hate—a fear and a poison, a product of distrust
3) Faith—a belief in things, be it religion, or people
4) Thankfulness—to notice what you have, and to recognize that you actually have it
5) Time—the seconds that tick away and should push us to be better
6) Fear—a force that pushes us to our best, if we do not let it overpower us
7) Hope—a powerful thing, a faith that things will turn out okay
Okay!!! I have FINALLY set a deadline for my contest (which is kind of old, but whatever.) I want the entries done by the end of this month, February 28, 2019. Please comment on this piece when you're done, would be helpful if you included the link or title. Just wanted to let you guys know so that I can get all my entries and start choosing. Good luck!!
Okay, so I decided, "I've written 21 pieces, why not host a contest!?" so I would really appreciate it if I could get some entries.
I want you to write an emotional narrative, nothing too personal, please. It can be a quick moment or a take place over a longer time period, but I ask that you make the text not too short, or too long. Maybe between 400-600 words? If you decide to join, please tell me in the comments and give this piece a like. Tag your piece #spearmintcontest. Your prizes will be as such:
1st place: 4 reviews on pieces of your choice, 5 likes, and a follow
2nd place: 3 reviews on pieces of your choice, 4 likes, and a follow
3rd place: 2 reviews on pieces of your choice, 3 likes
I will make a document with all your pieces, and winners get a shout-out.
I wish you all best of luck!!
I have not...
Just a few important things about my contest, which I republished recently:
1) I don't care how many words it is anymore! Just make sure it's not way to long, because I will have other entries to read.
2) Also, please notify me in THIS PIECE when you are done writing your contest entries.
3) If you ever happen to edit your piece, LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS.
4) If you republish, but haven't edited, LET ME KNOW!!!
5) Not required, but it would help if you put in the name of your piece, along with the comments indicating that you have made your submission.
These are all just a few things that would really help me out (I'd hate to end up not reading some of your entries). I look forward to all of your pieces! Good luck!
A sickness is spreading through this town. No one knows what it is, but it is unnatural. We have only one name for it: The Sickness. It claims lives faster than normal, causes destruction and loss wherever it goes. The symptoms are that of a common cold, or fever, and yet, it may as well be a murderer. It's haunted the Black family, the the Smiths, the Millers, the Wrights, and countless more. I'm just waiting for the day the the sickness will claim one of my own.
I appreciate the follows a lot guys, I really do. I'm just going to have to ask for more comments cuz I'm always stuck wondering what to do, what to cut out and edit, what people might like or not, and it's just very frustrating. I am so thankful, don't get me wrong, but follows don't tell me much other than people like my writing. I never get to know the negative aspects of what I write though, and I'm struggling to improve as and author. So please just help me out and give me a few comments, and reviews if you have the time for those. Once again, really appreciated
I have lost everything. My mother, father, brothers. The rest of my family is out to kill me, thinking that I was the one who murdered the people I love most. I have lost my wealth. And I am on the lam.
I race down the filthy, moss-covered streets, allowing my feet to leave no sound. They will have to find me by sight, and even that will be difficult. My black cloak flies behind me. As I race away from my chasers, I think: what is the best way to get those idiots off my trail? I rack my head, but come up with no answers. Unknowingly, I run to my safe spot: a trap. Now you're probably wondering how the heck my safe spot is a trap. Well it's easy, you see: I know the trap is there. I know its boundaries. I know how to avoid it. But others don't.
My mom... She's gone. Just gone. Right after we'd fixed things, right after we're okay, she's just lying in front of me like a pathetic doll. Blood is everywhere. Such a rich red. I wonder what death is like. Is it painful? Maybe I should find out.
I snap out my daze. What the heck was I thinking? I run to the kitchen and soak a towel. Bit by bit, I start cleaning up all the rust-colored wetness, to the kitchen and back, wiping away every last drop. Then comes the body itself. What should I do? I look out the window. It's late, no one's out, and it's dark. I check my watch. 11:12. That's enough time to dig a grave, fill it back up, and escape unnoticed.
I drag Mom behind me, to an area where I've never seen very many people. Time ticks by. It's hard, managing the weight of the shovel...
Things are more than you think.
Those books you call stupid? They're not just words. They are stories. They make up so much more than you know. It might do your arrogant self to look at them once in a while.
You know those parents that you treat with disrespect? Do you know how much they've given up for you? The time, money, and love that not everyone can give. You might want to appreciate what you have once in a while.
You see that girl over there, the one you bullied? Yeah, her. She's had an awful life you know. She's not just another person who's intimidated by you. Her mother is gone. Her dad's drunk. She has to take care of herself. Go ahead, thank your lucky stars that you're not her. But doesn't guilt build up inside of you?
Things are more than you think. Everything has a story to it, more than meets the eye. Every...
I wake up, my chest heaving, my breaths heavy. Something's wrong. I can just feel it. I walk down the stairs, not caring if my footfalls are loud. The house is silent, and empty. I reach the bottom of the stairs, and flick the light switch. There is nothing unusual. And then I see it.
A drop of blood.
My eyes search ahead, my body following. I find the next drop. And the one after. The drops of blood are starting to become more frequent. Red-brown, and still wet. Fresh. Someone was here very recently. The blobs of red are more like a smudge now, as if someone was dragged here. I wind through the house, past the guest rooms, and the play rooms that have been untouched for years. I walk into a corridor, and the blood trail leads to the door on my right. I gulp.
This is a dead end. Whatever went wrong, it is...
Okay, so a few of you joined my contest, and others liked it, but I'm not entirely sure who's joining or not, because I asked people to like and comment, but people mostly only did one. So if you joined that contest and are working on a piece for it right now, please let me know in the comments.
I know, I know, I don't have very many followers, but to the ones I do have, thank you so, so much for taking a chance on me. I'm just an aspiring writer, and your comments, likes, and reviews help so much! This goes to other people on WtW who have helped me as well. I have come so far, so thank you, those who have encouraged me. I appreciate your support, and I just wanted to let you know that. I probably won't do this much as I continue, but I'll make a list this time. I owe great thanks to...
We're getting along better. I feel like this family is healing. I just wish Amy would come back. I write to her, every now and then, and leave the message peeking out from the window she last watched us through. It is gone every time. She never replies. But it feels good to know that she is still listening to me. I told her all about Mom, what happened to her. I don't think she listens. It feels like this dark force is about to take away what I've managed to build. But one day, I find a letter from Amy, a scrap forced through the window.
How can I kill Mom now? How can I make her pay, knowing that you have come to love her? I am happy that she is treating you well, I truly am. But I cannot come back. Sure, she might accept me. But I am not you. I cannot let...
you insult me
think that you're better
you're a weakling
you shove others around?
can't you just let them be?
do you have to feel better?
better than everyone?
because that's sad
that you can't be one with those around you
that you can't find peace
that you strive for perfection
but destroy who you are instead
so, dear bully,
i suggest you fix your ways
because, no i will not threaten you,
or beat you up, or crush you,
but you will do that to yourself
i hope you fix your mistakes
i forgive you
you can still go back
like a hole to peer through
just like a window
strange eyes, those are
the whole thing
how can i do
i try to write
i try to dream
i try to succeed
i try to to be happy
through all else
through all my struggles
the things i know
taken out of my life
but forever they stay
so i suppose
in some way
they are still there
my words go unheard
why can't anyone hear me?
the things i write
they are ignored
there is no value
there is no space
there is no time
to see my words
my words go unheard
why can't anyone hear me?
my fingers flit over the keys
of a piano
making words, making sounds
it sounds plain
it sounds done
there is nothing to it
because i hear
clicks and clacks
notes that come
but no music
what i want is not there
where is it?
the music i've listened to
why can't i make it?
because i don't believe
so i trust
that i can do it
that i can play
and now there is something to
those words, those sounds
i am a musician at last
words used to be a prison
they trapped me
twisted me all around
my heart and soul were my guards
they beat me
kept me behind bars
i could never escape
but then i wrote
i used what hurt me
turned the sword into the whetstone
and me into the sword
i became sharper
i became stronger
and i broke out of that prison
for now my heart and soul
they yearned to write
they twisted me
then became my salvation
For you: laughter
but inside: tears
more restrained than free,
kept from doing what i love
my words held back
and i can't help
but wish to escape
this prison built around me
this prison that came
from my own words
i made it, i know
but it was to be
an art exhibit
something to enjoy
so why am i trapped in it?
Mom and I, we’re getting better. I’m not a slave anymore. She still doesn’t speak, but I have hope that she might. Then one day, she gestures for me to come closer, pointing to a pen and some paper as well. She starts to scribble something.
before my words were gone, I felt that something was wrong. I woke up sick, my throat paining, and unable to speak. So I went to a doctor. He said I’d lost my voice. He also said he had one thing, and it would let me say my last words. You know what they were. But I became jealous and selfish because you had what I didn’t: speech. And I just so happened to love it. It frustrated me, and I began to hurt all of you.
“What about Dad?”
Mom took a deep breath, and began to scribble once more.
Mom's started being awfully nice to me. Maybe it's because she understands that now that it's just me and her, if she hurts me too much, she'll have no one to do her work for her. Of course I'm just being kept around as a slave. At least Amy escaped. Should I be happy about that? I mean, she's going to kill Mom. Why can't she just tell someone? Yeah...
Why did we never tell anyone? Oh right. That constant fear that Mom would break out of prison, murder us, and die a nice death knowing that she killed her family. But, it's better than stooping to her level. And I know what I need to do. Even though I hate Mom for everything that she's done to us, just watching as Amy takes Mom's life, it would be the same as when Dad died. The exact same. I need to convince Amy not to do this. And if I...
I have to run. I can't stay. If Joanne doesn't get you first, she'll get me. I can't have that. Selfish, I know.
But I can't let her hurt me if I want to hurt her. And don't worry. If she kills you too, I'll just make her pain a hundred times worse. I'm sinking to her level, I know.
It's for Dad.
Hi everyone, so no, this is not another chapter. I just wanted to ask my readers to write a few comments or reviews because I need things to build on and I want to answer questions. I would also appreciate it if you guys could give me a few ideas. I really struggle with writing longer fiction stories; I run out of things to pull out! Your help would be much appreciated and I would like to give a shout-out to SeaOfWords for their questions and comments! As usual, thanks for reading and taking a chance on me! Also, I FINALLY figured out what's going to be on that piece of paper.
I hear footsteps on the stairs. I know who it is: Amy. I hope she escaped. She usually manages to stay on Mom's good side, unlike me. But then she opens the door, and I see that she has received a worse beating than she has ever gotten before. Her cheek is purple, her nose is bleeding, and her lip is cut. She looks worse than ever. I pull my sister close to me, my face in her hair. "What did she do to you?"
"She was going to kill you,Ian. She was going to kill you," she mutters. "I couldn't help it. I screamed at her. What kind of a person murders their husband then starts thinking about taking the life of their child? Who does that?"
"Our Mom, that's who. We'll have to watch out from now on, Amy," I say, and pull her even closer. I don't let her go...
My mom's mad. She has absolutely gone mad. I wish she would scream. Why can't she scream? It's better than seeing that evil look in her eyes. Glazed, emotionless. Does she feel any remorse for all the horrible things she's done? Does she even feel anything? Someone knocks on my door, and I pull myself out of my trance.
It's my sister, Amy. "Mom wants to see you," she whispers. We don't want that monster to hear us.
I nod. "Okay." I move past my sister, afraid for what's coming next. As I leave I hear her quiet words.
"Be safe, Ian."
I shut the door.
I make my way down the stairs, trying not to let the carpet muffle my footfalls. Mom hates it when she thinks we're not coming to serve her. Believe me, I've been beat up for that mistake. And I never made it again. Mom...
When I was young, my mom spoke a lot. She was strong with her words, but not hurtful. One day, she stopped using them, said:
"I don't need them anymore."
She was never really my mom again. And she never got better. Only worse. She pushed us like hell. She didn't scream anymore, only gave a glare that made you think she would kill you. And then...
She finally did. My dad was the first to go.
THUD. Crash. I twisted around wondering what in the world that noise could be. Too afraid for my footsteps to be heard, I slid down the banister. The china is broken. My mom's eyes are glossed over and they have a wild and crazy look to them. She holds a bloodied knife that was in my dad's throat a moment ago.