sophie_simile

United States

she/her
My goal: to express the beauty of the world through writing; inspire change, and explore different uses of language.
Favorite genre to write: poetry, fiction
Favorite series: Harry potter

Message from Writer

Hi! I'm Sophie :) thanks for coming to my corner of WtW.
Any feedback or comments are appreciated, I'm looking to improve my writing and learn from this amazing community of writers!

Published Work

The Drabble

A Father's Love

    The moon frowned upon the man walking out of his store. The air was laced with the aftermath of rain, beckoning his lonely, aching mind into the refuge of the quiet night. But hobbling to his car, the man's heart stopped as he saw a figure.
    Pink coat, dark hair, duck toed walk.
  "Nancy?" His raspy voice barely carried above the pop can tumbling over the pavement.
    She turned around. Took a few steps. Paused.
    For a fleeting moment, he worried she was gone. But her eyes teared; they spoke with no noise. 
    I'm sorry.
    Then the two embraced.

 

December Grab Bag

Where Truth and Imagination Collide

What makes a writer a writer?

A writer is someone who dares to create the impossible. 

A writer is someone who dreams to describe the indescribable.

A writer is someone who secretly checks their closet everyday, looking for portals to another world.

A writer is someone who imagines raindrops with names as they roll down windowpanes, racing their brothers and sisters.

A writer is someone who views their social faux-pas as good writing material, turning awkward into experience.

A writer is someone who devours books like some do pancakes, mentally making lists of favorite words.

A writer is someone who would take you seriously if you told them their favorite character had died.

A writer is someone who first turns to their journal after slamming a door.

A writer is someone who appreciates the natural stillness in life, when the earth stops to take a breath, listening to what the world has to say.

A writer is someone who sees...

They Come in Flurries

We can't be late, we can't be late!
the sky is abuzz with electricity
anticipation filling the concrete space,
of a snowfall yet to come.
First there are a few stragglers, 
fluttering around as scouts
search for the perfect place to land.
They deem it safe,
and alert the snow queen to send more.
Quickly, quickly now!
A mad rush as soldiers pour out of the sky,
crashing and bumping into each other.
It is an awkward dance at first, 
like children learning to waltz,
The mockery of the wind swirls around them,
knocking them off course.
Then, the snow queen arrives.
She bestows her breathtaking beauty by blowing gently,
stopping the chaos in its tracks.
Everything floats in suspended animation,
each crystal a fragment in time,
sparkling in its awed splendor of being unique.
They make a gentle decent
as her magic settles,
corpses littering the land.

Pandemic Memoir

Searching for Optimism

Learning to dance in the rain.

 

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Phoenix

New York City, 2220
    The menacing fires were never satisfied. They had come back, this time hungrier than ever, leaving the forests destitute of all life. The singed remnants of their last meal left a bitter taste in the air, like a campfire after it rains. Burned, soggy, hopeless.
      Elidi glanced at the pile of clothes in her room, unpacked. That's how the Earth was being treated. An expendable item, like a sock. Her mother, a mechanical engineer, had been hired to go to Mars. The plan was for she and Elidi, along with a team of others, to evacuate to the newly prepped Mars base, in 1 week, so they could "pave the way for the future". 
   But Elidi didn't want a 'fresh new start'. She wanted the old earth. The green planet, filled with animals, and seasons, and sunsets, like her great-grandmother had photographed. And snow. The sweet luxury was unimaginable, unless you lived in Antarctica. It...

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Phoenix

New York City, 2220
    The menacing fires were never satisfied. They had come back, this time hungrier than ever, leaving the forests destitute of all life. The singed remnants of their last meal left a bitter taste in the air, like a campfire after it rains. Burned, soggy, hopeless.
      Elidi glanced at the pile of clothes in her room, unpacked. That's how the Earth was being treated. An expendable item, like her sock. Her mother, a mechanical engineer, had been hired to go to Mars. The plan was for she and Elidi, along with a team of others, to evacuate to the newly prepped Mars base, in 1 week, so they could "pave the way for the future". 
   But Elidi didn't want a 'fresh new start'. She wanted the old earth. The green planet, filled with animals, and seasons, and sunsets, like her great-grandmother had photographed. And snow. The sweet luxury was unimaginable, unless you lived in Antarctica. It...

People Power!

To Change the Course of History

Don't you dare discount your voice,
You have more power than you think.
One vote can make a difference; it matters.
Your opinion matters. 

Because you matter.

This is your country,
your home,
your future that is pending on the voice of the young generation.
Now is the time to decide: what kind of world do you want to live in? Who do you want to lead you into the future?

The fate of the country, of the world is in your hands, gen Z, so please, as a teen fearful of the world to come:
with every fiber of my being, 
I am urging you to not take this right that so many fought for, for granted
and vote.

You have the ability to change the course of history.

Unbiased Anthropology

Teews Smaerd!

    Humans can be very hypocritical creatures. They complain for hours during the day how derit they are; body aching, their eyes similar to those of raccoons, but when it's finally time to peels, that's the last thing they do.
    When the earth unfurls its charcoal blanket, tucking corners of the world into darkness, many reluctantly retreat to their personal chambers, but let it be known these individuals are far from ginpeels yet. After a million years of making sure everything is 'just right', such as adjusting temperature, noise level, and even simulating the environment of a cave, they situate themselves horizontally onto a soft rectangular block sitting on top of a wood or metal frame. Ten minutes of fluffing their soft head cushion pass before they finally feel content enough to close their eyes, only to yank them open once they remember they forget to ___. Stumbling into their food room looking to quench their thirst, finishing last minute school...

Leaves

Juicy emeralds glisten like sweet ripe fruit
hanging deliciously on strong branches
mosaic tiles catching light
glittering in the morning.
Yet they are delicate as paper
floating upon a gentle summer breeze
until fall forcefully takes it's place
it's cooling whisper
sending them away.