I think I wanna make a list of everyone that's in this thread and add it to the og post.

PMJ

Oh, wow, that brought back memories. I used to listen to that song on my brothers old ipod, but by a different artist. It's honestly a good song.

That's a playlist.

I love introducing others to PMJ. 😁

Hello!

I went on spotify and listened to a bunch of PMJ. I really enjoyed their music. I love ragtime and some songs they do have a ragtime sound to it.

Nice!

Doing some binge watching on Netflix.

My cousin randomly texted me about lucid dreaming (I'm the only person she knows who can do it) and what other stuff I have/do. Now we are in a deep conversation about maladaptive daydreaming, lucid dreaming, anxiety, depression, insomnia, depersonalization, dissociation, and all the other things wrong in my mind

Oof.

My dreams tend to go from one that I have no control over, right to lucid dreaming all within the same dream.

• Captain America: The First Avenger
• Marvel's Agent Carter Seasons 1 & 2
• Captain Marvel
• Iron Man
• Iron Man 2
• The Incredible Hulk
• Thor
• The Avengers
• Iron Man 3
• Thor: The Dark World
• Captain America: The Winter Soldier
• Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 1
• Guardians of the Galaxy
• Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
• Daredevil Season 1
• Avengers: Age of Ultron
• Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 2
• Ant-Man
• Jessica Jones Season 1
• Daredevil Season 2
• Captain America: Civil War
• Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 3
• Luke Cage Season 1
• Spider-Man: Homecoming
• Doctor Strange
• Black Panther
• Iron Fist Season 1
• Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 4
• The Defenders Season 1
• The Inhumans Season 1
• Thor: Ragnarok
• The Punisher Season 1
• Jessica Jones Season 2
• Luke Cage Season 2
• Cloak and Dagger Season 1
• The Runaways Season 1
• Daredevil Season 3
• The Punisher Season 2
• Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Season 5
• Iron Fist Season 2
• Ant-Man and The Wasp
• Black Widow
• Avengers Infinity War
• Avengers: Endgame
• Spiderman: Far From Home

Are you ever just hit with the need to write a short story in the middle of the night?
Good me too, this one is about a swing set on a playground and the only little girl who uses it.

wait that's actually something i'd like to read??
please do post it somewhere and tag me if i'm not in the thread, so i can read it :DD

wait that's actually something i'd like to read??
please do post it somewhere and tag me if i'm not in the thread, so i can read it :DD

Ok? I'm trying to write it in a Narnia esk style and I'm not sure where it's going to go but as of right now I'm enjoying it.

Update, there shall be two endings. Take that as you will.

If I were writing that I'd likely make the playground haunted by the little girl.

If I were writing that I'd likely make the playground haunted by the little girl.

I can write anything with ghosts or spirits really, I can never get the vibe quite right.I haven decided if I'll even write one of the endings because its just a Tad Bit dark. The other ending is just sad.

She wouldn't know that she's dead, and I'd make sure that the reader doesn't know that either (unless they see the subtle hints and foreshadowing) until towards the end.

Even then I can never pull it off believably.

Have more faith in yourself. I'm sure you could if you tried. As you know, getting help from others helps.

I'm sure with enough practice I could.
This short story is not turning into a longer story and I am now very confused on what my inner self is trying to say about my childhood.

I guess I'll post it here, Might as well. It will make absolutely no sense if you don't know me well, just know it holds a lot of Relsey history.

The playground is a special place for children. The yellow slides and blue ladders with poles to slide down and metal net’s to climb. These become castles with walls to scale, royalty to save and Monsters to fight. They become Ships on the high seas being tossed in a Violent storm,their colors flapping in the wind and sailors being thrown over the side by huge waves and powerful gusts of wind. They become forests and Caves, Great Mansions and small cottages.
But there is always one playing tool that’s different from the rest, and on this playground that plaything happens to be a swingset, five rubber seats sit suspended by long chains to a thick metal pole, the hinges squeak and the seats are cracked. It stands unused but for one swing. The swing on the very end, as far away from the screams and shouts of the other children, is occupied by one Lucy Collin from Miss.Bennet’s third grade class.
Her bouncing brown curls are kept at bay by a bright blue ribbon, though such a ribbon can only do so much as she flys up and down with the complaining of old hinges. Up, Squeeak, down, Scuur. There she sits her feet moving up and down, propelling her movement through the air. Some days she soars moving high above the ground and plummeting back towards the earth, only to rise up once more. On others she merely sits in the seat scuffing her black shoes against the ground The other children pay her no mind here. It’s just Little Miss Lucy and her swing.
On this particular day, Lucy comes and sits in her seat, the chains jingle happily as she sits and the hinges squeak hello.
“Mr. Swingset, today, today is good.” She says, happily pumping her little feet back and forth, “Let’s touch the clouds today.”
To this the Swing set happily replay’s with a Squeak and Scurr, as two little feet propel them into the sky they go up and plummet back down, the changes happily jangling all the while. When the bell rings the two little feet stop and drag on the ground the Hinges squeak goodbye, and the chains clank sadly as she slips off the seat, waving goodbye to her friend.
The Next day comes and children pour out of the classrooms. The Swingset waits for little Lucy to come running out, The sound of Children laughing begins to fill the air, the vocational screams and cries ring out, one minute, then two. Finally the Long bouncing brown curls are spotted racing from the bathroom, as the small girl races to her favorite plaything, the Chains jingle and the Hinges squeak as Lucy jumps into the worn rubber seat.
“I’m a little late today,” Lucy tells her friend, wiping at her eye’s, “I had to wait in the bathroom until it was safe to come out, you know how Tylor is Mr.Swingset.” The Chains clank together and the Hinges squeak and Scurrr in reply. The little feet swung up and down and she flew through the sky. The Bell rang, they said their goodbyes and the Swingset waited for little Lucy to come back.
As children poured out of classrooms the next day, the Swings waited, and waited. The sounds of playing filled the air, still they waited for little Lucy. After an agonizing wait she was spotted, sprinting for her Friend, tears trickling down her face, laughs following and grabbing at her ears. She collapses into the familiar rubber seat. The chains clank, the hinges squeak, and little Lucy Cries.
“Mr.Swingset why don’t they just go away.” The little black shoes scuff the ground, the hinges squeak and Scurr rhythmically as she sways back and forth, scuffing her shoes. “Mama says to just ignore them, but oh, I wish I could just!” Lucy stops there, letting the Swing talk in it’s own little language, filling the air with simple sounds, Mingles with the soft hiccups and hitched breaths of Lucy crying. The Bell Rings, and Lucy goes, Not returning the Swings goodbye.
Lucy didn’t come out to the playground the next day, the swing waited, ready to fly into the sky, but no Lucy came from the Classroom.
Then the Weekend came, long and lonely, the Swing sat occasionally calling out for the little girl with a little help from the wind.
When Monday arrived Lucy came and sat on the swing, the chains jingled, the hinges squeaked, Lucy said nothing at all. She only pumped her leg’s back and forth, ever so slightly, Her brown curls were missing today, the Swing wondered and asked in it’s own little way, there was no ribbon and there were no bouncing curls.
“They put gum in my hair Mr.Swing Set.” She replied, “Right next to my head, Mom had to chop it all short.”
New voices interrupted then, “Look she even talks to herself, so weird.”
“I Do you have a Mental problem or somethen?”
“Only stupid people talk to something that’s not there.”
How the Swing wanted to lash out at those children as they hurt their Lucy, how they wished the wind would come along to help. But no wind came, and the taunts continued. Wood ships were thrown, words were said. The Bell rang and Lucy slipped from the seat to her knees, the chains Clanked good by, and the hinges squealed and apologized. Lucy walked away.
Ske didn’t talk the next day, then she stopped showing up, a whole week went by, the children came and went, the swing sat unused, the hinges calling out to their friend with every gentle breeze and gust of wind.
Lucy came back again once. The Chains clinked with joy, the Hinges excitedly let out Sqeeak, Scurr. Luct sat on her swing, and scuffed her black shoes, “Goodbye Mr.Swing Set, I don’t think I’ll be coming back.” She whispered, she stood up then, and left her swing. The furthest from the other children, with a cracked rubber seat.
The Swing cried out as she stood, the chains clanking, it all fell on deaf ears, Little Lucy didn’t look back.

Anytime I attempt to write a short story myself it always ends up being longer than what I intend it to be, so I feel that frustration.

That just about got me crying. It's beautifully written, conveys emotion, and the use of similes and metaphors is wonderful!

That just about got me crying. It's beautifully written, conveys emotion, and the use of similes and metaphors is wonderful!

^^^^^^^^^^^^

i used to be able to write a lot of short stories like that but over the years i just, idk, i stopped. though, just reading that gives me so much inspiration to start writing them again. it's lovely my dude, i love it so much. if you have any more i'd love to read them.

i used to be able to write a lot of short stories like that but over the years i just, idk, i stopped. though, just reading that gives me so much inspiration to start writing them again. it's lovely my dude, i love it so much. if you have any more i'd love to read them.

I do that a lot. I don't write them as much, but I do enjoy editing them as well. But most of my stories were from a really bad time in my life and sitting there reading some of them I'm just like "Bro, you okay?"