HelpMe512

United States of America

Artist, poet, writer
Dear Evan Hansen
Newsies
Confused as hell
#GOrwell1 Winner! :D

"If I wait 'til my tomorrow comes, is the waiting all I've ever done?"
-Ben Platt

Message from Writer

Go check out my contest - #Helpme2020
The more entries the merrier! :D

Published Work

I'll be with you forever | #Poemsofsouls |


When I was born,
my mother held me and said,
I will be with you, forever and always.
I will be with you, my baby, forever.

When I was crying,
my mother hugged me and said,
I will be with you, forever and always.
I will be with you, my baby, forever.

When I was anxious,
she stood by me and said,
I will be with you, forever and always.
I will be with you, my baby, forever.

When she grew old,
she still held me and said,
I will be with you, forever and always.
I will be with you, my baby, forever.

In her final breath,
she held my hand and said,
I will be with you, forever and always.
I will be with you, my baby, forever.

When she was gone,
I looked up and said,
You will be with me, forever and always.
You will be with me, my mother, forever.

Question - The Crown of Flowers

Okay, hi again. I need some advice for a project I'm working on. The characters are going to go on a journey, and my question is how long or short should I make the travel scenes? I'd like at least one chapter to be dedicated to it, and that chapter will be mostly dialogue that helps the characters to grow closer and to explain some of the characters' backstories. However, I'm afraid that if I make it too long, the reader will get bored, and if I make it too short, the story will be too fast paced. What's the optimal length for a travel scene? Keep in mind, after the travel scene there will be a lot of action and then another travel scene. Thanks!

My First Contest! #Helpme2020


Hello! I've been looking to practice reviewing, and I love to read others' work, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to start a contest! This is my very first contest ever, so I don't expect too many entries but I hope the prompts are interesting enough. Please comment any questions. Without further ado, let's see the prompts!

Prompt 1: A Child's Eyes
In this prompt, you will write a piece from the perspective of a child from infancy to age six. How does the child perceive the world? What ordinary things seem extraordinary to them? What do they understand about the world? Let your imagination run wild!
Word limit: 1 - 3000

Prompt 2: Unconditional Love
In honor of Valentine's day coming up, this prompt is simply about unconditional love. Whether it be between partners, family, friends, or a pet, write a piece about how love can change the world. This can be your own experience or fictional.
Word...

It'll Be Okay | #Poemsofsouls |


He would walk in the door before class
With a great big smile across his face.
He would laugh with me.
He would be there for me.
It was always this way.
He was the joyous spark
That could brighten my day.

He walked in the door before class
With a shaky, nervous smile on his face.
He laughed with me.
But it wasn't quite right.

He sat at our table at lunch
And I asked him what was the matter.
He shook his head at me
And turned away.

He walked in the door the next day
His eyes were brimming with tears.
So I asked him what was the matter.
He took a deep breath and whispered,

You see, it's my father.
He's been sick now for months.
You see, now he's gone.
My father, my world, is now gone.

I raced to his side
and said "It'll be okay".
I knew he was hurting.
I couldn't let...

The Crown of Flowers - Chapter 4

Chapter 4
    "Ah, the son of Kyrian," a low, gritty voice said in a long drawl.
    The voice came from a hooded figure that sat cross-legged on the ground before Zayrian. The folds of a dark brown cloak covered his entire body, obscuring his face. On either side of him, two others sat in the same position. One donned a deep mahogany cloak, and the other wore a blue cloak that seemed to change color like the sea. They all sat around the same symbol that Zayrian saw on the door.
    "Come in, Zayrian. We have much to discuss," The one in the mahogany cloak said. Her voice was warm and smooth like fresh honey.
    Zayrian stepped through the threshold, jumping as the door behind him slammed shut. He wondered why it was an old-fashioned door instead of one of those magical disappearing doors. Perhaps it was because a regular door looked grander. Shaking his head, he...

Survey - The Crown of Flowers

Ok hi so quick question about the new project I'm working on. I want to have a subtle love interest between two characters - Rowan and Zayrian. My question is: Is this part too forward or is it not forward enough to suggest a love interest? Here's the excerpt:

    They kept up their match until Zayrian had his blade at Rowan's heart. "I yield," Rowan conceded.
    Zayrian smiled smugly and lowered his sword. All of a sudden, he found himself on the ground, grass tickling his face. Rowan had lashed out with his feet and knocked Zayrian over. "No fair!" Zayrian protested amidst laughter.
    Rowan rolled to face Zayrian and blushed. The golden light reflected off his brown hair so it looked like Zayrian was glowing. Zayrian sensed the heat in Rowan's cheeks and against his will, his cheeks reddened too. They laid next to each other on the ground for a moment, dappled in sunlight.
    Before...

The Crown of Flowers - Chapter 3 (Illustrations!)

Chapter 3    
    Zayrian awoke in a cold, damp cell. The first thing he noticed was that he couldn't see. Not just because it was dark, but it was like the time when his sight had not yet been restored. He grabbed for the pendant that always hung around his neck, but his hand only hit air. He took a panicked breath, and he searched the floor around him with his hands. He found nothing except a cold floor.
    "Ah, the mighty warrior  is awake!" A voice from behind Zayrian said, their voice laced with mocking.
    "Where is my necklace?" Zayrian demanded as he wheeled to face his mysterious captor.
    "You will get your sight back in time, my friend." They said friend in the same, mocking tone. "But first, let's have a little chat, shall we?"
    Although he couldn't see, Zayrian could hear just fine. He growled and lunged at his captor. Suddenly, a sharp...

I'm a person not a label


"Girls against boys!" they said.
 I hesitate, and step to the girls' side.
But I don't believe it.

 "Thank you, young man" she said.
I hesitate, but my brother corrects her.
 "Young woman" he says and she apologizes.
I wish he didn't.

 "I'm actually a guy" I type.
I hesitate, and send it to someone online.
But why do I not believe that either?

 "She!" they said.
 "He!" she said.
 "They?" I ask.

But no, it can't be.
I'm girl. Always have been and always will be.
Right?

Nonbinary.
I experiment with the taste of the word.
But it just...
isn't me.
Because I am a girl.
Except for when I'm not.

There's a word. Genderfluid.
I don't know if that's me,
because it sounds so official.

Why can't I just be me?
Why do I have to have a label?
So when someone asks "Are you a guy or a girl?"
 I'll answer "I'm me and that's all that...

When words are a weapon, what is my shield?


Their words are sharpened blades that cut deep into my soul.
The pain they cause will hurt for years.
And the scars they leave won't fade.
When words are like sharpened spears,
What can be my shield?
What will be my kevlar vest
For words that pierce like bullets?
How could I defend against
The words that are daggers in the dark?

The Crown of Flowers - Chapter 2

Chapter 2
    The wind roared across the open field, deafeningly loud. Rain had begun to hammer down, turning what would have been a perfect battlefield into a muddy, slippery mess. Atop the largest hill stood a lone warrior, wearing only simple leather armor, a necklace, and a blindfold. His hair stuck to his forehead and curled around his ears, giving him an almost feral look.
    Zayrian gripped his sword, the rain making it hard for him to see the incoming army. He could only faintly hear the marching of the Empire's soldiers. His stomach roiled, but he stood firm atop the hill. The rest of the village had left as quickly as they could, so Zayrian was left alone to defend a ghost town.
    Suddenly, the rumbling of the marching quieted. The only sound was wind whistling in Zayrian's ears. He stood as tall as he could and raised his sword. Then, out of the fog, a small...

The Crown of Flowers - Prologue/Chapter 1

Prologue
    Rubble crashed all around Zayrian, and he clung to his mother for dear life. He buried his face into her shirt, afraid to see what the Empire had done to their village. His mother whispered comforting words into his mop of dark hair, but her voice was shaky. "It's gonna be okay, baby." she said, stroking his hair over his ears so he wouldn't have to listen to the chaos around them.
    Zayrian was unconvinced, but he let himself try to disappear into his mother's lap. A scream rang out, jagged and full of terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, and his mother clamped her hands around his unusually shaped ears. They huddled like that together in his bedroom, hoping the Empire wouldn't notice them.
    Heavy footsteps clambered toward them. Zayrian's mother held him so tight, he thought he might be crushed. A bark echoed through the halls, and Zayrian's mother couldn't help but let out a...

The girl in her room was told to be beautiful but she could never oblige

  
     There's a girl. The girl's in her room, alone. The night is closing in on her and she doesn't know what to do. She's laying awake in her bed, music playing in her ears. The music tells her to be beautiful. The music tells her she's strong. She feels otherwise. She plays the forbidden song over her earbuds because if her parents were to hear, they would be worried. Tears spring into her eyes because she knows the song is her life. The song is her emotions put to words. She wipes them away quickly so that no one could ever know she had been crying. But she is alone, so it doesn't matter. She won't go to sleep tonight. She is overwhelmed by thoughts. Not even music could let her escape. She will not sleep tonight, only lay in her room, alone, crowded by her thoughts.

Pride


Pride
Is what I need.
I shouldn’t hide
In these shadows anymore.
Pride
Will be the death of me.
I shouldn’t tell
Who I really am.
Pride
Is a part of me.
I shouldn’t run
From the things that define me.

Help! I need some name ideas!

So, I'll make this brief. I'm working on a new character that I want to be the main character of a novel-length story. It's quite a lofty goal, and to make it possible, I need some ideas for how to make this character really stand out. I mostly need a name for this character, and perhaps names for his family and peers. So without further ado, let's get into this character shall we?

Name:
None yet. I was thinking something sharp like a "Z" name to reflect his sharp personality.

Personality:
Mostly very calm and mature when he's with his family, but when he's in battle, he can be fierce and merciless. While interacting with strangers, he is quick to anger and not afraid to be violent. He can mostly contain his constant fury, but the few times he gets worked up, he can destroy and kill. He is soft with his friends and family, but to his enemies...

Father's Love | #bemine(1) |

    
    Cautiously, Michael lifted his tear-streaked face from his pillows to see his father looming over him, beer bottle in hand. Michael instantly scrambled towards the door. His father said something, but his words were slurred and indiscernible. His father advanced, seeming to get more furious with every movement Michael made. He charged like a bull, and Michael barely had time to roll out of the way. Still, his face was sliced by an edge of the broken bottle his father held. He cried out in pain and sprinted for the door. His father was too drunk to react quickly, but after a second, he started towards Michael again.
    "Get outta here!" He said, his words slurring together. "You're no son of mine!"
    Michael quickly obliged, but it still hurt. His father used to love him, but ever since Michael's mother left when he was five, he had grown irritable. Then, he started drinking and everything went downhill...

Forest of fears


Oh how he was alone in the world,
He had no one there to guide him.
Oh how he had only shadows,
For his light was much too dim.
Every path he wandered was a struggle,
Every trail harder than the last.
The cliffs were near impossible,
Ease was a thing of the past.
He cut through thickening brush,
For his own path he would blaze.
But he was blind to the truth,
And couldn't see through the haze.
Right next to him there was a trail
That was so easy and clear.
His heart could have respite,
His mind be free of fear.
So a hand grabbed his
And tightened around him like a rope.
Oh she pulled him closer,
Onto the path she called "hope".
At first he was angry
and he started to fight.
But then he realized
That the end was in sight.
At then end of the path,
a light he did see.
The hope...

If you're having a bad day...

Okay, so if you're having a bad day or anxiety or anything like that, please please please listen to this guy called AcousticTrench. Watch that video and I guarantee your day will be a little better.

Bonus round (HelpMe512)

Ideas for Okapi's bonus round

Q&A Answers :D


Anna_19's Questions:

Do You like Taylor swift?
Yeah I'll listen to her if she comes on, but I don't really have any Taylor Swift on my playlist. That's not really my genre.

JakeFrommStateFarm's Questions:
If you could speak any language, what would it be and why?
I would speak probably spanish because it's very common, so it would be useful.
If you could play any instrument what would it be?
I would want to play piano because it seems pretty cool and it's very impressive.
What's your favorite movie of all time?
Avengers Endgame. The whole series really, but Endgame is the best. The cinematics, the story, everything is just amazing.
Which is better, Amazon or Ebay and why?
Amazon because Ebay is a little sketchy.
If you could change your name to anything with no regrets whatsoever, what would you change it to?
I wouldn't. I really like the name I have now.
Do you prefer to write poetry...

Q&A :)

Hey! I've been on this site for a little bit now, writing mediocre poetry and short stories. The thing is, I don't know many of you, and you may not know much about me. So, I'm hopping on the trend and making a Q&A! Ask me questions in the comments, and I'll try to answer them all in another piece! While you're at it, you can answer some questions too so I can learn a little about this amazing community! Questions can be about anything, they can be personal, and they can be silly or serious. Anything! I won't answer any questions regarding any info like my location, my full name, or anything that could give away my identity, but other than that fire away!

I'm excited!

He, she, they - Why does it matter?

    
    Why is it such a big deal whether or not a person is a girl or a boy? Why should we care about their gender? How about we start judging people not based off of what they identify as (or don't identify as) and start judging based off what a person is like? Oh no, is it too hard to get to know someone before passing judgement over them, Karen? If a person is transgender, then more power to them. They're accepting who they truly are! If a person is nonbinary, then that's good for them. They aren't letting themselves be confined anymore! If a person is cisgender, then that's perfectly fine. They're being who they are!
    We're all human, and some people tend to forget that. Just because a trans guy would rather be called he/him, doesn't make him any less of a person. Just because a nonbinary person doesn't identify as a gender doesn't...

My December Competition 2019

Music, Ice, and Christmas Lights


Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
   
    The words seeped through the walls of my room, and I curled the blanket around me tighter. I buried my face farther into the soft fabric. Of course Christmas music was playing. What else could be played in this frigid, dreary month? The upbeat tune kept playing from speakers down the stairs, the simple rhyme filling the air that surrounded me. I sighed in defeat and threw off the covers and trudged down the stairs.

Bells on bobtails ring
Making spirits bright
Oh what fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight
    
    Yeah. Real fun. What could be more fun than cleaning for guests and putting up too-shiny decorations? I poked my head into the computer room (although my mom took it over for sewing) to see who was playing the music. My...

The birth of a storyteller in the dead of winter

    Around me, snow drifted around the air and eventually laid to rest on my bright pink coat. I buried my gloved hand in a small pile of snow and scooped it into the shape of a sphere. I dusted new snowflakes off the smooth surface of my snowball and laid it to rest in a small indentation I’d made. When I had a decent amount of snowballs, I got up and hit the slide as hard as I could with my five year old arms. With two good hits, ice broke off the structure and slid down to me. They were so clean, so perfect. I carefully selected the hardest piece of ice I could find and held it in my palm. It stuck to the fuzz on my glove. I went back to my little snowball hole and picked out one of them. Then, I set to work, shaving off little bits of the snow at a time...

Still He Walks | #writerswords2 prompt 1 |

    
    Through the rain he walks, the drops beating on the back of his head. The water runs through his hair, pressing it flat against his head. It isn’t a gentle summer’s rain, but a vicious, autumn gale. The wind seems to have hands, pushing at him with great force. He doesn’t try to stop it; he just let’s himself get battered by the storm. Thick, dark clouds cover the sky, making the night pitch dark.
    Still he walks, though all forces of nature are against him. Each step is a struggle and each breath labored. Tree branches slash at his arms and lightning strikes painfully close to him. He just pushes his hair out of his eyes and keeps walking. His feet are drawn to the ground by mud and his face stung by tiny balls of ice.
And still he walks, getting up each time the wind blows him over. His jacket offers little protection against the...

Dear young man who sings for an old woman

   
    Dear young man who calls my name,
    I do not know who you are, what you are, but when you call my name from a house away it sends a chill through me. You feel familiar. I should know you, yet my memory fails me. I have yet to see your face, probably for the better. I know you come by here every day, your reasons unknown to me. You check my mail, I see you do it. The curtain of the dining room window allows me to see you, mysterious you, go through my mail and put it all back where it was. Well, mostly. One time I saw you take one. What did you do to it, young man who calls my name? Who are you?
    Sincerely, old woman down the road

    Dear young man who watches,
    Why are you still here? You watch me, but say nothing....

Why I Write

Why I write and why I'm me


Why do I write? Why do I have stories overflowing out of my soul? Why do I feel the need to put pen to paper and create? The answer is this: I write for control, and I write to bring light to the world. I write because there are characters in my mind who are real to me, and their stories must be heard. I write to vent, I write to calm myself, I write to spread beauty. There isn't enough beauty in this world of suffering and pain. I intend to bring out the best in people no matter what. I want to melt the coldest of hearts and show the most beaten of souls that there is more than dark in the world. I write to take the bounds of what is possible and destroy them completely. I write to escape reality and head into a better place. I write to contain my emotions. I write to be...

My December Competition 2019

Music, Ice, and Christmas Lights


Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh
   
    The words seeped through the walls of my room, and I curled the blanket around me tighter. I buried my face farther into the soft fabric. Of course Christmas music was playing. What else could be played in this frigid, dreary month? The upbeat tune kept playing from speakers down the stairs, the simple rhyme filling the air that surrounded me. I sighed in defeat and threw off the covers and trudged down the stairs.

Bells on bobtails ring
Making spirits bright
Oh what fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight
    
    Yeah. Real fun. What could be more fun than cleaning for guests and putting up too-shiny decorations? I poked my head into the computer room (although my mom took it over for sewing) to see who was playing the music. My...

Who I Am | #whoamyou |


I was the one who has a normal life.
I was the one who you can talk to.
I was the one who gets good grades.
I was the one who has a caring family.
I was the one who’s nice to everyone.
I was the one who is soft spoken.
But that is not who I am.
I am someone who has a million stories inside me.
I am someone who wants to let them out.
I am someone who carries secrets and burdens.
I am someone who can’t tell others in fear of what they’ll think of me.
I am someone who is afraid that I’m not the perfect child.
I am someone who is different.
That is who I am.

The breath of life has chosen

Who said that I’m the one who gets to survive
When so many never even got a chance?
Why am I the one who’s alive
When some are more deserving of life?
Who said I get to live
When so many others are dead?
Others had so much to give
So why am I the one who’s still alive?

O Fairy | Round Three

O fae, O fairy,
O wanderer of the night.
Would you take my hand
and let us both take flight?

O fae, O fairy,
O bane of the devil's hand.
Would you take my demons
and banish them from the land?

O fae, O fairy,
O keeper of the weak.
Would you take my wishes
and give me what I seek?

O fae, O fairy,
O you are such a gift.
I will give you my sadness
and my spirits you will lift.

Here's me | #justoneq&a |


what was the weirdest thing you've ever done as a kid?
 
hmm okay I think it was when I bit my brother because he was on top of me. He was angry that I stole his nerf dart, so I bit him to get me off :P

which bird in the area that you live in do you hate the most?
 Don't be hatin' on birds. I think all birds are wonderful. My favorite bird is a magpie, and although it's not native to where I live they seem really smart and cool.

i know what google says, but do you consider turtles to be reptiles?
 I'm no expert, but I think turtles are reptiles because they're cold blooded. I could be wrong.

what is the meaning of life? (courtesy of whoever did the #capitallettersq&a, i can't find them for the life of me.)
 It's complicated. Different people can have different meanings. I have yet to figure out my...

His Heart Like a Star | #Outerspace |


I look to the stars
and they call to me.
Their fiery power blazing
in a glorious light.
I wish I could go up
and touch them.
Live with them.
Cry with them.
For stars know no judgement,
and stars know no evil.
Their earthshaking brilliance
overpowers the darkness.
Stars shine through the night,
and comfort the weak.
Just a speck in the vast realms of space,
their light still pierces through
the curtain of night.
I have no stars under the sky
but I have a light that shines
just as bright to me.
His radiance is brighter than a star.
His radiance comes from his heart.

Alone and Afraid | #novelistofthefuture |

I am calling out,
Louder and louder
To anyone who will listen.
Yet all I hear is silence
That chills my heart
And mind
And soul.
Will no one hear me if I’m falling?
Will no one care to see me broken?
If I’m alone in this wretched world
Will no one come to help me?
Now people are surrounding me,
Yet I am alone.
Heart-wrenchingly,
Mind-numbingly
Alone.
So I weep
But no one stops to listen.
Because I am
Alone.

my blood taints the words of the wicked

i walk down the street of lies,
my hands curled into fists
of sorrow and rage.
shadows flicker in the darkness,
and my eyes are drawn to them.
they whisper in my ear
their twisted tales of turmoil.
deceit laces their words
and they fiercely command
all to be
still.
heart pounding,
legs shaking,
fists clenched,
i stare at the demons.
they snarl to me:
worthless,
failure.
and i listen.
i believe.
all is well all is well
they say.
i believe.
poison of the soul
leaks into my heart
and the dagger stained red with lies
pierces my mind.
all is well all is well
they say.
i believe.
nothing can stop them now.
they are immortal,
impassable.
what i wouldn’t give to just
stop.
and believe not the shadows
that plague my thoughts,
but the people
screaming all around me,
pulling me back
from the edge
of abyss.
what i wouldn’t give
to believe in what’s true.
but...

The Beast of Burden | #GOrwell1 |


The beast of burden.
It pressed its filthy claws into my chest.
My heart twisted up in agony
And it seemed like living was a futile quest.
It snarled and reared,
Ready to sink its teeth into my soul.
Its fangs were just one inch away,
I had lost all of my control.
It roared in rage raw and pure,
Then it bit down into my mind.
My agony was fleeting
The pain so hot and blind.
But what I didn’t know that day
Was that the beast had never killed me.
The pain had made me stronger,
The cuts had made me free.
Because as that beast tore through my heart
It took the chains that bound me with it.
And although I was completely ravaged,
And although all I wanted to do was quit,
I stayed alive through all the trials
And refused to let the burden win.
So the beast in all its rage and glory
Helped...

Autumn's Graces | Round Two |

Autumn.
What a sickly sweet sound in my ear.
It pushes back the summer
And invites the cold creeping near.

Fall
Is another word for the season.
Falling apart.
Being broken without reason.

Change
Is what autumn does represent.
But what if I don’t want
Any change to be present?

Trees
In autumn are dying.
But the death makes them beautiful,
I don’t see them crying.

Beauty
Is what the trees seem to call.
So if you’re ever down just remember
Beauty comes with the fall.

Who I Am | #whoamyou |

I was the one who has a normal life.
I was the one who you can talk to.
I was the one who gets good grades.
I was the one who has a caring family.
I was the one who’s nice to everyone.
I was the one who is soft spoken.
But that is not who I am.
I am someone who has a million stories inside me.
I am someone who wants to let them out.
I am someone who carries secrets and burdens.
I am someone who can’t tell others in fear of what they’ll think of me.
I am someone who is afraid that I’m not the perfect child.
I am someone who is different.
That is who I am.

Fallen Angel

With beauty and power and might
Like a fallen angel
You’ll appear in my sight.
And your wings will expand
As if ready for a fight
But then they will fall,
Wrapping me in an embrace so light.
And I will stay close
And you will tell me it’s alright.
You will shield me from my monsters.
Not the ones who scratch or bite,
But the ones who lurk in my head
Until I wish I could take take flight
Away from the monsters
Who prowl the night.
So you shield me, protect me
And hug me so tight
Like a fallen angel.
I’ll be safe for tonight.

Forest of Monsters | #CuriousWriters2019 | #letsdothis |

    October 5, 2074,
Subjects are confused, but getting along. Currently there are fifty and none have died yet. Variables will be released tomorrow. Subject 1A is our last hope, so let’s hope everything goes according to plan. Will update tomorrow.
    
    Lillian woke up to a harsh light glaring down on her. She squinted and rolled off of her back. She felt the ground beneath her was bone-dry dirt and leaves. Her vision was fuzzy, but she could make out the image of trees around her. The leaves were all magnificent shades of red and yellow, indicating that it was autumn. The light that abused her eyes when she first opened them looked to be the sun that hung just above her. She approximated that it was close to noon.
    She sat up, feeling like she did when she got black out drunk at a party. Her head throbbed and she couldn’t remember how she had...

The Ghosts of Regret | #tirelessregret |

    
    You’ve failed me, Connor. A voice hisses to me. I jump and look around, but I see no one other than a few people walking on a path. I’m standing on a little wooden bridge in the park, the rushing water below my feet calming my nerves.
You could have saved me, The voice continues, its voice frighteningly familiar. What a wonderful brother, letting me take the blast, it drawls in a bitter, resentful tone.
    I recognize the voice. It’s my brother Andrei. My brother who died last year. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and whisper, “You’re not real,”
    It laughs sorrowfully. I’m as real as you, Connor, Its laugh isn’t the joyful laugh I’ve heard a thousand times, but a laugh that’s full of anger and hurt.
    “You’re notreal,” I insist, my voice getting louder. I wrap my hands around my head and lean against the rough railing of the bridge. The splintered wood digs...

Teacher Gratitude

Teacher, Inspiration, and Friend

    Walking into school, the first day. Deep breaths. It was a new school, so I knew nobody. I clenched my fists and stayed close to my brother. When we had to split up, I kept to myself and stayed quiet. On the second day, we had classes. I went through my schedule and kept my head down. There were only unfamiliar faces in an unfamiliar school.
    Then I walked into history class with Mr. Shea. I was apprehensive at first, since history wasn’t my best subject. I went to the back and tried to not be noticed. Mr. Shea introduced himself and the classroom, and I couldn’t deny that he was… different. He didn’t talk down to us, but made it clear that we weren’t to act up. He had structure, but at the same time he was cracking jokes and laughing. We thought he was strange.
    The next few weeks passed, and I got moved to different classes for...

Ghosts of Love | Round One |

    The wind howled in the night, the fog obscuring everything in sight. The inky darkness of the night made it even more difficult to see. Trees already bare towered above the graveyard, their twisted limbs casting the stones below into deep shadows. Clouds covered the moon, making the sky have a faint, eerie glow. Creatures unknown moved across the darkness in streaks of black. Crows cawed in the trees, but their cries were drowned out by the wind that tore across the landscape.
    Down in the graveyard, the gravestones crumbled and cracked. Ivy grew along more than one, giving them an ancient look. Sculptures of angels were laced with cracks and missing limbs. It seemed empty. The only sound was the scuttle of rodents and the flap of birds’ wings.
    But down in the old church, there was someone there. He was a tall, thin boy with pale features. His features were rounded and dulled, and he...

Still He Walks | #writerswords2 prompt 1 |

    Through the rain he walks, the drops beating on the back of his head. The water runs through his hair, pressing it flat against his head. It isn’t a gentle summer’s rain, but a vicious, autumn gale. The wind seems to have hands, pushing at him with great force. He doesn’t try to stop it; he just let’s himself get battered by the storm. Thick, dark clouds cover the sky, making the night pitch dark.
    Still he walks, though all forces of nature are against him. Each step is a struggle and each breath labored. Tree branches slash at his arms and lightning strikes painfully close to him. He just pushes his hair out of his eyes and keeps walking. His feet are drawn to the ground by mud and his face stung by tiny balls of ice.
And still he walks, getting up each time the wind blows him over. His jacket offers little protection against the violent rip...

My Rock


I found a rock under a tree.
It seemed like it was calling out to me.
It had words written on in ink,
with a heart colored in pink.
“You matter” is what the rock did say.
That’s just what I needed that day.
I kept that rock in my sweatshirt,
and looked at it when I felt hurt.
Feeling its weight made me feel calm.
When I was anxious I had it in my palm.
So thank you to whoever put that rock under that tree.
It is such a blessing to me.

I Hate | #thingsihate |

I hate:
Watching the time tick tick tick away.
Seeing the sun fall to end the day.
Thinking that he will not be okay.
Knowing that he had so much to say.

I hate:
Leaving everything unsaid.
Crying ‘till my face turns red.
Hearing his voice in my head.
Thinking of what would happen if I’m dead.

I hate:
Walking down the busy street.
Knowing my life just isn’t neat.
Knowing I won’t accomplish any feat.
Acknowledging my defeat.

I hate:
Knowing he’s so far yet near.
Seeing all the things I fear.
Thinking of the next year.
I hate
being here.

Fireflies | #songofmysoul |

    I wrap my fists around the soft fabric of my bedsheets, sleep foreign to me. I roll over and gaze out the window, hoping it will make my mind stop whirling. As I peer out the window, I see tiny flashes of orange lights. The lights glimmer like a beacon in a stormy sea, and wink out faster than I can think. Entranced, I sit up in my bed, forgetting that I’m supposed to be falling asleep. I have to get a closer look at the fireflies that dance just out of my reach.
    I open the window to the cool wind of a winter’s night. I shiver slightly, and pull on a sweatshirt much too large for me. Before I know what I’m doing, I climb out the window onto the roof overlooking the yard. I stare up at the night sky speckled with stars. The sight of the full moon shining brilliantly against the inky sky makes...

At First Sight | #NewSight |

    The rain beats gently on the top of the bus. My head leans against the window, the vibrations from the bus gently lulling me to sleep. Raindrops trickle down the window in a mesmerising pattern. I find myself staring at the little beads of water until they slowly fall out of sight. Soft piano music plays through headphones in my ears.
    Next to me, there’s a rustle and a quiet murmur of something I don’t quite catch. I tilt my head up to see who has sat next to me. They have a large black backpack and are wearing a gray, oversized hoodie. Their head is turned away from me, so I can’t see their face. But I do see long, brown hair tumbling over their shoulders and disappearing into the folds of their sweatshirt.
    I move my bag from the floor to my lap to make room for the newcomer. As I move it, the person...

If I Build A World | #this_is_my_world |

If I built a world, it would be beautiful. The valleys would be speckled with tiny wildflowers and have soft grass that you can fall asleep on. The streams would be gentle and inviting. I would put my hand into the cool water and it would shimmer like crystals. The mountains would be grand and vast. They would tower above everything else and when I stand on them, I would touch the sky. At the tip of their jagged peaks, the forests would look like dots and the rivers like mere lines.
    There would be oceans that would be powerful and daunting. The waves would slam against the shore in a display of their might and splendor. The sun would rise in an explosion of gold and orange light. The ocean would rejoice at the sunrise with sparkling colors and the water spirits would dance in delight. At midday, beams of golden sunlight would break through the leaves. The...

Haunted Memories

    Sitting on the cold concrete steps that chilled me to my bones, I looked at the little girl who sat next to me. She was only nine, and she wore a dress that was covered in little pink flowers. Her warm brown eyes looked at me inquisitively and she smiled softly. I tried to ignore her, but my eyes kept being drawn back to her. And still she stared at me, her eyes so full of life and love.
    “What do you want from me?” I finally said in a hoarse whisper. I brought my ragged blanket closer around me as if it could protect me.
    The girl turned her head so that her eyes seemed to pierce my heart. She remained silent.
    “What did I do? Just leave me alone!” I begged her, my voice rising. People passing by glanced at me and quickened their pace.
    “What’s that in your hand?” She finally asked after a pause.
    I looked...

You

your laugh is like a symphony
of a thousand chimes.
your touch is like hot cocoa
on a winter's day.
your love is like a fire
fending off the cold.
your smile is like a beacon
in a foggy night.
if only i could see you
one
last
time.

A Daughter's Love | #tellastory |

    Mariah giggled, and ran around the field, a red rose clenched in her hand. It was her birthday, and she was turning five. Her father sat on a bench next to the park, smiling as Mariah approached him. She held out the rose with her pudgy hand.
    “Daddy, look what I found!” she said proudly.
    Her father took the rose gingerly, the soft red petals brushing against his fingers. “Thank you, my sweet angel,” he said to Mariah in a deep, soft rumble. He kissed his daughter atop her head, and she threw her arms around him.
    “I love you, daddy!” Mariah said, hugging her father. The two smiled to each other, and with the rose in one hand and his daughter’s hand in the other, he walked down the path back to their house.
    The next year on her birthday, Mariah again gave her father a rose that she had picked from the field next to where they lived....

Stardust

    The boy looked up at his mother, who held out a star to him. He stared at it in awe, the silver star shining with an alluring glow. He reached for it, entranced at its beauty.
    His mother held it away from him though. “Listen closely, love,” she told the boy, who was still gazing at the star. “This is your star. Everyone’s stars are different, and you’re the only one with this star. Wear it proudly,” his mother told him.
    At last, she handed him the star. “Be careful who you choose to share it with,” she warned as the boy gingerly held his star.
    The next day at school, the boy proudly presented his star to his class. “This is my star!” he announced, holding it up for all to see.
    The other boys snickered at him, and the girls giggled and pointed to his star. “Look at mystar!” another boy said,...

The Magician's Forest

    The forest shifted, branches weaving together to create walls. Thorn bushes snaked up and down the twisted wood. The trees bent and shaped, constantly moving to the will of the magician in the center of the forest. With a flick of his hand, a vine crawled up a tree and wound tightly around a thick, sturdy branch. Leaves were ripped off trees and added to a swirling whirlwind around the magician. As he moved, the forest moved with him. Where he stepped, wood appeared to carry him. Trees were left bare and warped in his wake.
    Wind whistled through the trees, and tendrils of magic seeped into the ground. Where the magician stood, trees began to grow, and plants blossomed with flowers. Like a ripple in a pond, green covered the forest. All that he destroyed, the magician restored with a swift motion. And the parts of the forest that he had previously harmed sprung up more beautiful than ever. ...

Open Prompt

Loser

I've had some time to think
'Bout what I'm gonna do.
I've always played it safe,
How am I gonna choose?

Jus' blend in with the crowd.
Nothing here to see.
But then who am I?
What does it mean to be me?

"You be yourself!"
Is what they always say.
"Don't be afraid",
"Seize the day!"

But then they turn against,
Kill you with their words.
So I follow in the crowd,
I won't be heard.

As each day passes
I play their little game.
What's "cool" what's "in".
Try hard not to be "lame".

But still they laugh.
How is this not right?
I've done all they asked,
I don't want a fight.

Friendless. Loser.
"Stay away, you're not cool".
Spitting out their evil,
I feel like such a fool.

I've always had to wonder:
Is it my clothes? My hair?
Why do they all hate me?
Why isn't life just fair?

The rest laugh and watch
Like...