Virtual Creative Writing Club, anyone?
Started July 06, 2019 by @ninja_violinist

( mhm !! it's open 24/7 all year every year )

( anyways, forgot to put the dark poems i wrote while i was in a bad state here but yea )
( tw death / sh )

@EtherealDreamer

(okay is there a theme going on right now, or are we just posting things we have written–?)

@saor_illust

(( ninja posts prompts every so often and gives us feedback ))
(( most recent prompts are here ))

(( and no theme !! post whatever !! ))

@EtherealDreamer

(okay cool, thank you!)

well i have this little poem? song? thing? that i slapped together for a roleplay, centered around a single character of mine. figured i'd share along with an actual piece of writing to half-ass make up for not being super active
___
Poison-tongued little one, bring me home
Run away, run away, run away
You do it all of the time
Your every desire, you cast away
Dance in the heart of stars and walk the flames of scars

Hide all your fears from the world
Pretend that all is fine
No one should know what tears you up inside

Kiss yourself goodbye
Delight in the masks you find
Tuck away your distaste and put on a pretty face
Kiss yourself goodbye
Rob your heart of privilege
All tied up in pretty bows
Sacrifice all that you love to be the best that you are
And cast yourself away

And now for my submission. might enter it into a teen lit magazine if it's good enough. it's pretty short, so i might either do something else, or rely on an art piece

Glittering hilltops, full of waves of flowing grass cresting over them and crashing into the horizon beyond. Rainbows of flowers colored in the lines made from winding trees and dotted brush. Mountains that reached for the sky with their white hats held up high and proud. Galivanting creatures filled the earth and breathed life into nature’s leafy lungs and watery veins. They made every little gear turn and every little breath meaningful.

The world was beautiful.

Avery wished they could see it.

Red roses weren’t red. Violets could be blue, or green for all they knew. The sun never shone on them or lightened their day by peeking through invisible, possibly-shaped clouds. They didn’t know what their house looked like, or what they looked like. The neighbor that popped up out of nowhere remained faceless after several years of frightening and brief appearances.

Sometimes… Sometimes they didn’t think the nothingness was worth getting out of bed. Weeks on end passed with Avery blankly staring at a wall. It seemed as though nothing could pull them out of their slump whenever the darkness swallowed them whole.
Nothing, that is, except stories.

Dainty little hands, belonging to that of their girlfriend, would gift them the light of stories. Written by her hand, read by her lips, or passed down the generations and intertwining with foreign families. With her magical arrival came stories, and Avery joked that they fell in love with her words before her.

Sometimes it felt true. Others, it felt as though they were minimizing their affection for their girlfriend. But Tanya would always have this giggle right before she threw herself into Avery’s side and said her most infamous words.

“In the tangled river of worlds we swim, there lies lives we’ll always call home, but never get to keep.”

Some days, Avery bathed in the muck of a farmer, offered quests of glory to politely deny for the sake of their cattle and sheep. Then they dove into a mermaid’s coven, deep into the trenches of a forbidden trench. They twisted their mangled hands and called upon the ancient spirits to lend them a hand in creating a world-bending spell, only to be foiled by the squawking of their blood-sworn kin.

Mountain-scaling dragons swooped above Avery’s head, leashed to Tanya’s words but somehow free and alive all at once. Demons raised their swords alongside them, screaming for freedom and glory from the chains of angels. Fellow knights bowed their heads, a young prince standing before them with a crooked and too-big crown atop his head. Merchants bartered, businessmen took phone calls, and Avery lived it all.

Life would be nothing without stories. The world could have all the color and light and beauty it could stuff into its chest of wonders, but without stories, without tales regaling the lost lives of what we could’ve been and could’ve had, it would be nothing.

Avery couldn’t see. They couldn’t view what everyone else could so freely view. But they could look into other people’s lives and experience what they couldn’t in their life. They could relate to the person they were being told about, to the people around them, and either learn about things they never thought about or see themself in the shoes of someone else.

Stories were important. No one could deny that, not when stories have been passed down for thousands of years. And Avery lived for them.

They wished to see stars.

But they knew what they looked like, even if only in the form of words dancing through the air.

@wordlesswriter

September 24, 2021

I didn’t dare stop as I dropped onto one of the fire escape platforms and jumped again, hitting the ground running. My weary bones begged me to stop and my wheezing lungs tried to slow me down with their breathlessness, but I ignored every instinct telling me to rest and ran on.
The Elrods would be looking for me no doubt. I had seen the true, broken family behind the perfect picture they set for the public, and with a single word I had the power to ruin the Elrod name.
Of course I wouldn’t, but my reputation and the rumors of the Outcasts would certainly make them think I would.
To them, I was just a dangerous and selfish person, a risk and a criminal, but nothing more. And maybe I was, but maybe I was something else too. Something better, something more. At least, I had been. Before everything in my perfectly knitted together life had unraveled with a duet of flying bullets.
And yes, my parents’ deaths were partly the Elrod family’s fault. And yes, the majority of the High Ranks were cruel, merciless, selfish, and awful.
But who’s to say that their lives weren’t worse? Being forced to pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t? Having to keep the horrible, unrelenting truth stuck inside them, doomed to haunt them and spread cracks until they shatter into nothing more than small, jarred glass pieces of their previous selves?

Why was I so dizzy?...

Everything was red…

My arm was bleeding again…

I could barely see…

I think I was in a forest...

I heard a stick snap behind me…

Who’s there?...

Who’s that?...

What’re they doing?...

Why can’t I move?...

Help…

Help.

I was running again - all I ever seemed to be doing was running lately. Running to, running away.

Coward

There was something behind me…
I didn’t dare look back. It would slow my run.
I was so tired… It felt like I had been moving for hours. My legs sparked strikes of pain with every contact to the ground, my lungs wheezed and strained to breathe. Fear was the only thing keeping me going now.
The monster was gaining on me… coming up close like a deadly shadow.
It occurred faintly in my mind that I should scream for help. But when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. And then there was this helpless feeling, something that made me want to sob and mourn the loss of strength.
The monster's darkness surrounded me, overwhelming and it’s scent was like death and corpses. It sparked a certain fear in me, a terrified, unrelenting fear that made my heart still and my body freeze like a deer caught in headlights.
It clamped its blood-covered claws over my neck, and I choked and struggled until I fell slack, a far kinder darkness descending upon me.
___

“Osir-ow! Osiris, stop!” That voice - but no, it couldn’t be.
I opened my eyes and glanced around at the plain green curtains, the gray, almost bare room, the blanket covering me, and the uncomfortable bed I was laying on before my eyes landed on his brown, sun-kissed skin and dark, tousled hair. I stiffened.
He laid close to me, his head propped up with his hand and a cautious expression, close enough that I could smell the refreshing scents of a streaming river and a faint smell of wood. “Ash?”

…

(So I need to find a way to make this all less confusing lol. Regular means the story, bold means dream/nightmare, and double spacing means thoughts :) Let me know what you guys think!)

@EtherealDreamer

September 28, 2021

here's a story I wrote that I associate a certain part with the prompt, its pretty long bc im trying to turn it into a novel possibly, so sorry bout that.

I look around as I'm violently shaken awake. Looking around in a tired daze, everything has that half asleep graininess. Delilah, my best friend ever since I moved into this group home; three years ago, is standing over me as an apparition does to terrify innocent people.

“Get up” she says in a voice I can barely comprehend because again, I just woke up as if my bedroom were on fire or something. I ball my hands into fists, and rub them into my eye sockets, trying to wake myself up a little, I slowly stand up and stretch by putting my arms straight up over my head, my back cracks and I rub my eyes again- this time with open fists- and get to following her. I don't ask questions because I like to believe I can trust Delilah with my life itself, so she leads and I follow. I step lightly and quietly, down the hall, and into the second living room.

So here’s the deal, I live in a group home, as mentioned before, but this group home has about four other kids, myself -Benjamin-, Delilah, Raven and this guy named Dylan.
The group home is supposed to be a group home for ‘troubled youth’. I transitioned when I was about 14, and after the transition my parents up and left, leaving me to the foster care system of Ojai California. I was in and out of foster homes for a few months in my early teenage years until I got placed in Mr.Castro's group home. The house is huge, the biggest on the block. Downstairs it has a living room which opens up to the decently sized kitchen, and that room opens up to the dining room, where a dark oak table sits in the middle, with five matching chairs, in which we were allowed to paint and decorate ourselves. Upstairs the long hallway has about seven doors, one room for each kid- or teenager- one for Mr.Castro and two bathrooms, the one on the left for the girls, the one on the right for the boys; though when Mr.Castro is out grocery shopping, or whatever a fifty three year old man does to be able to take care of four teenagers does, we use whichever bathroom is closest to our rooms, or whichever we feel like using really.

At the end of the hallway there is a huge arch that leads into the den, the room that holds the outside balcony, which contains a glass table with a giant rainbow umbrella placed in the middle, with five outside chairs, the ones with metal structures and those soft, silky cushions; each with different colored cushions that we got to pick, placed around the glass table that sometimes literally glistens in the bright californian sunlight.

So here I am, half asleep; not by choice, and stumbling through my eerily quiet group home at 2:37 in the morning. When we get out onto the balcony Delilah shuts the french doors that lead out here, slowly and quietly. I sit down gently in my chair, which has soft pastel green cushions, Delilah sits in her chair, on it, her signature black cushions.

@saor_illust

December 24, 2021

Got inspired by @/Maria Paz Gónzalez Lesme and @/Superpower Dragon in the comments section of https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFssFIiIdPk

Home… I want to go home… Lumine found herself thinking as she stood on the roof of one of many homes in Liyue, gazing at the multitude of lanterns floating in the night sky, splattered with the dots of a million stars. But where was home? She wanted desperately to find Aether and bring him home, to find him amongst the people of Liyue, that he had seen the lanterns as a sign to come back to Lumine. But after my harsh words before my disappearance in the Abyss, would he still keep looking for me? Or have I finally lost my chance?

She remembered something she'd heard the folk of Liyue quote to each other many times during this time of year. "In a war, long ago, the people of Liyue would release lanterns to remind their soldiers of the way home, and to never lose sight of themselves," they would say. It was said that Morax once said this – after all, he was their immortal archon, their beloved god. The lanterns should remind her of the way home… to never lose sight of herself…

Perhaps it was the guilt over the harsh words that she had spoken to Aether months ago that made her sit down with her legs dangling over the edge and gaze mournfully up at the sky, or maybe it was the sudden rush of emotions that hit her. She wondered to herself, Have I already lost sight of myself? Should I have dutifully waited by his side for five hundred years?

She knew these were foolish questions as soon as she asked them. No, this was the path she had chosen. Aether was following the journey that she had once taken. And he too, would come to understand why she had chosen this path. The Abyss was the only chance she had of fixing this broken world. He didn't understand now, but Lumine knew he would come to understand in time.

A light breeze swept through her hair and clothes, and she managed a smile up at the stars. "May the stars light your path, and bring you back home safely," she whispered softly, hoping that her words would reach him somehow. "I love you."

@wordlesswriter

December 24, 2021

I wrote this. It's kinda a flashback. Any thoughts?

My first mission. Fear had clogged my throat and my previous bravery had been cascaded away by a heavy waterfall of worry.

There were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many possibilities in both success and failure.

I could have died, been known forever as a wimpy little girl and a conspirer with criminals.

It was thoughts like these that made me determined for the mission to go well.

So I stayed in line, did everything Ash said as well as I could, and was the best little soldier I could be.

But of course, I made a mistake. A mistake that could have cost us our lives.

“Stay quiet,” Ash had hissed, grabbing my shoulder roughly and forcing me into a crouch as he followed into the same position.

We were in a clearing in one of the worst parts of the city. The floor was light and dusty, and rose in surprising, humongous amounts if we moved. The slightest movement out in the open could draw the attention of anyone near. We crouched behind a car, one that was so beat up and old that it definitely didn’t work any more.

I struggled with the building pressure on my calves, but Ash motioned to keep still impatiently.

But then I moved, and sand rose, and gunshots had fired.

I had never felt pain like that before. It was pain that spread all the way to my toes and all the way up to my head, as if I had been shot in every part of my body, rather than just one. I didn’t know where I was shot, but only two shots had rung out. I had fallen to the floor, the dust from the collision almost choking me.

Was Ash okay? Had he died already or had survived and escaped with his life?

Rough, strong arms slipped under my back and legs, picking me up with a certain gentleness.

But the carefulness of the person’s gestures wasn’t what surprised me. What surprised me was who the person was. Before darkness overcame me, I got a glimpse of dark bangs and a grim face. Who knew Ash would be the hero in my life?

@ninja_violinist

aslkdfjds not me returning to notebook approximately 9343 months later–
genuinely though, sorry to be gone so long! irl has been putting me through it lately. But it's so cool to see what everyone's been writing though!!! I loved reading through these, y'all are fabulously talented and creative!!

I also realise that some of these are,,, months old, and I don't want to force anyone to sit through feedback on something they've potentially moved past or don't really want to hear about. But I am very happy to give feedback on anything and revive this thread with weekly prompts/critique if anyone wants. so just let me know 😊

@Serpentess

(Welcome back! I’d love more writing prompts! It helps keep my brain on its toes, lol)
(That, and I honestly just love the prompts you come up with, grin)
(And yes, I admit that I’m half-asleep right now, so don’t mind me, lmao!)

@ElderGod-kirky

I'd still like to keep this going! it's a lot of fun to see everyone's stuff ~~and to see Ninja occasionally die inside whenever I post something~~

@ninja_violinist

(oh hey that's great, I'm glad!! ~~also "see ninja occasionally die inside" sure is a funny way to spell "kill ninja with excellently written angst"~~)

@ninja_violinist

alright. so. prompts!

music: "Ship in a Bottle" by Steffan Argus

image: from "The Weeping Stones" by Tdub-Photography

words: "Good Bones" by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

@ElderGod-Icefire

January 10, 2022

(aaah welcome back, Ninja!)

@Serpentess

January 15, 2022

Alrighty. There’s not really much context to give with this one, compared to my previous little stories.

The character is, from what I imagine, a young woman, though she’s really not connected to any of my characters/stories. I literally just wrote this one as a random thing. I will say this though, this one will likely surprise whoever reads it (some dark/sad undertones here).

Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

She wandered through the yard, a contented smile upon her face. The soft shine of moonlight beamed upon the soil as her bare feet walked along the many paths.

Her hand reached out to caress some of the stone pillars and pedestals she passed. Some had writing upon them, others didn’t. And some had grand statues or carvings, while others were simple cut stone. It mattered little to her.

She hummed a gentle tune, turning down a path that led her to a new addition of the yard, closer to the great house beyond the yard’s gate. There, the flowers were more tended to, and occasionally someone would drop off more. It all seemed so trivial to her, but she did enjoy smelling the flowers, even petting them.

As she inspected the flowers, she noticed someone had brought tulips. Oh, how she loved tulips, particularly the red ones! They were so beautiful. She giggled happily, then moved along down another path, one that ran alongside the elaborate fence surrounding the yard.

As she walked, she looked through the fence to the beautiful sight of the ocean. Her gaze drifted down, to the rocky beach at the bottom of the great hill the yard sat upon. Soft blue light gleamed on the rocks and in the water, a gorgeous display of nature’s beauty. One could almost be driven to tears by the sight.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when dawn approached. She sighed sorrowfully, deciding it was best to return to bed. Turning down another path, she couldn’t help but smile again.

It was such a tranquil place here, quiet and existing without guilt, a refuge to those that seek solace. It brought her peace to know that places like this existed. But, she supposed that’s what happened when one lived in a graveyard.

@wordlesswriter

January 15, 2022

Alrighty. There’s not really much context to give with this one, compared to my previous little stories.

The character is, from what I imagine, a young woman, though she’s really not connected to any of my characters/stories. I literally just wrote this one as a random thing. I will say this though, this one will likely surprise whoever reads it (some dark/sad undertones here).

Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

She wandered through the yard, a contented smile upon her face. The soft shine of moonlight beamed upon the soil as her bare feet walked along the many paths.

Her hand reached out to caress some of the stone pillars and pedestals she passed. Some had writing upon them, others didn’t. And some had grand statues or carvings, while others were simple cut stone. It mattered little to her.

She hummed a gentle tune, turning down a path that led her to a new addition of the yard, closer to the great house beyond the yard’s gate. There, the flowers were more tended to, and occasionally someone would drop off more. It all seemed so trivial to her, but she did enjoy smelling the flowers, even petting them.

As she inspected the flowers, she noticed someone had brought tulips. Oh, how she loved tulips, particularly the red ones! They were so beautiful. She giggled happily, then moved along down another path, one that ran alongside the elaborate fence surrounding the yard.

As she walked, she looked through the fence to the beautiful sight of the ocean. Her gaze drifted down, to the rocky beach at the bottom of the great hill the yard sat upon. Soft blue light gleamed on the rocks and in the water, a gorgeous display of nature’s beauty. One could almost be driven to tears by the sight.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when dawn approached. She sighed sorrowfully, deciding it was best to return to bed. Turning down another path, she couldn’t help but smile again.

It was such a tranquil place here, quiet and existing without guilt, a refuge to those that seek solace. It brought her peace to know that places like this existed. But, she supposed that’s what happened when one lived in a graveyard.

I LOVE IT!!! The whole time I was just engrossed. AND THE ENDING. The whole thing was well paced, the information was given subtly, and the MC seems like such an intriguing character. AMAZING. You might just want to say "a CONTENT smile upon her face", just because it's simple. But maybe it's just a choice and you prefer this version. Either way, im obsessed. Do you have any ideas on what the plots going to be about?

@ElderGod-kirky

January 15, 2022

gay? yes, gay. i can never not do gay
not great, but i've just recently gotten out of a funk, so have this random Thing

She fell in love with the sculptor. The way his hands floated over delicate curves of marble, and chiseled away at pouty lips. He held his creation so sweetly, enrapturing his silent admirer and drawing her attention to the shimmering ball gown he designed, and the provocative slip of the sleeve over a full bosom. A marble lady of mouth-watering size, with a rump filling out the ruffled skirts and giving the world a wonderful frozen strut across her pedestal.

Hands so sleek and slim, perfect for a sneaky slip of a band. She could picture it, the mark of a lover's lips dancing over hypnotizing fingers, or a glimmering cylinder of diamond and gold. Hair piled high and tumbling down over shoulders. The sculptor paid such good attention to his work. An admirable display of the unwavering affection a lover could receive. His pretty brown eyes stared up at high cheekbones and cute rounded cheeks, she had no choice but to stare as well. A flash of stone dimples, so soft and touchable, of course she had to melt. Oh, how lucky she could be.

Nights and weeks passed by. She watched the beauty come to life at the doting care of the sculptor. One day, he stepped back and surveyed his work, scanned moving eyes over a still spectacle. She couldn't stop the envy blooming in her chest as she watched from afar, as she had always done. Finally, a smile tugged at his own pair of lips, and he beckoned to the shadows. "Come here." A startling contrast to the silence of the night. This did not fit routine. The only sounds allowed were the careful taps of metal against stone and soft brush of bristles to dust away the unneeded. "Come," he said again.

No choice, she told herself, as she stepped away from her hiding spot and approached the pair. Up close, the woman towered over her, arms strong and muscular but achingly feminine at the same time. A squishy belly encased in loose robes. Her eyes strayed down, down to the legs almost made for napping on. The sculptor placed his hands on her shoulders and stood behind, though she couldn't force her gaze to her love.

"Just a kiss," he whispered into her ear. A what? She turned, confused, and he had eyes for her already. "Only a kiss, and your love is yours."

Huh. So simple, yet they barely knew each other. But, something told her he wasn't speaking of himself—or perhaps that would be her own wants, directing her to the correct target of her infatuation. She darted her gaze back up, up to the woman she had stared at for ages now. Just a kiss.

Muddy feet lifted up, and dirty hands held onto open arms, and untrained lips met marble. Within seconds, strong and loving arms wrapped around her waist and held her close, and a warmth seeped into her lips as she had her head tilted, and a pleasant pressure bore down over her mouth.

She fell in love with the sculptor, or at least she had thought so. But when the woman held her so close and happily gave a sunset's grin to a poor girl such as herself, she realized the heart-pounding truth.

He had his own David to love, anyway.

@wordlesswriter

gay? yes, gay. i can never not do gay
not great, but i've just recently gotten out of a funk, so have this random Thing

She fell in love with the sculptor. The way his hands floated over delicate curves of marble, and chiseled away at pouty lips. He held his creation so sweetly, enrapturing his silent admirer and drawing her attention to the shimmering ball gown he designed, and the provocative slip of the sleeve over a full bosom. A marble lady of mouth-watering size, with a rump filling out the ruffled skirts and giving the world a wonderful frozen strut across her pedestal.

Hands so sleek and slim, perfect for a sneaky slip of a band. She could picture it, the mark of a lover's lips dancing over hypnotizing fingers, or a glimmering cylinder of diamond and gold. Hair piled high and tumbling down over shoulders. The sculptor paid such good attention to his work. An admirable display of the unwavering affection a lover could receive. His pretty brown eyes stared up at high cheekbones and cute rounded cheeks, she had no choice but to stare as well. A flash of stone dimples, so soft and touchable, of course she had to melt. Oh, how lucky she could be.

Nights and weeks passed by. She watched the beauty come to life at the doting care of the sculptor. One day, he stepped back and surveyed his work, scanned moving eyes over a still spectacle. She couldn't stop the envy blooming in her chest as she watched from afar, as she had always done. Finally, a smile tugged at his own pair of lips, and he beckoned to the shadows. "Come here." A startling contrast to the silence of the night. This did not fit routine. The only sounds allowed were the careful taps of metal against stone and soft brush of bristles to dust away the unneeded. "Come," he said again.

No choice, she told herself, as she stepped away from her hiding spot and approached the pair. Up close, the woman towered over her, arms strong and muscular but achingly feminine at the same time. A squishy belly encased in loose robes. Her eyes strayed down, down to the legs almost made for napping on. The sculptor placed his hands on her shoulders and stood behind, though she couldn't force her gaze to her love.

"Just a kiss," he whispered into her ear. A what? She turned, confused, and he had eyes for her already. "Only a kiss, and your love is yours."

Huh. So simple, yet they barely knew each other. But, something told her he wasn't speaking of himself—or perhaps that would be her own wants, directing her to the correct target of her infatuation. She darted her gaze back up, up to the woman she had stared at for ages now. Just a kiss.

Muddy feet lifted up, and dirty hands held onto open arms, and untrained lips met marble. Within seconds, strong and loving arms wrapped around her waist and held her close, and a warmth seeped into her lips as she had her head tilted, and a pleasant pressure bore down over her mouth.

She fell in love with the sculptor, or at least she had thought so. But when the woman held her so close and happily gave a sunset's grin to a poor girl such as herself, she realized the heart-pounding truth.

He had his own David to love, anyway.

oh I love that ending!!!!!!!

@wordlesswriter

SO I found this prompt of Pinterest (naturally) and had an idea. Anyway, this is just the second part, so the romance hasn't started yet, but beginnings are kinda hard for me so i need help.

“Honey, it’s time for dinner!”
I blink. How has the time passed that quickly already?
I note the time at the top of the screen of my dying phone, then glance at my sticker-covered laptop on my desk across the room. I was supposed to start my homework almost two hours ago.
Instead, I spent the time staring at my phone’s screen, trying and failing to think of something to text Blair.
It has been almost a decade since I’ve seen her. We were childhood friends, inseparable. Well, almost inseparable. The concept of moving countries was the only thing that had a chance of breaking us apart. And it had. After that, we tried to call regularly, but life had a different idea for Blair and I. We slowly grew apart.
Now, I find myself missing my old friend more and more.
I force myself out of the position I’ve been in for three hours, groaning as my body adjusts to the new movement.
“Coming!” I call back to my mother.
The thumping of my older brother and younger sister running down the stairs is muffled by my closed door.
I take one last glance at my phone, at the one word I’ve thought of so far.
Hey
Classic. But maybe not enough? I groan as my thoughts start to spiral again, and throw my phone on my bed without sending it.
I went through a very complicated process to get Blair’s phone number. A process complicated enough that I’m honestly embarrassed how much time I spent on it. And now I can’t seem to even text her. I can’t seem to get the right words out.
I just…miss her, you know?
“Charlie! Get your butt down here! Mom has forced us to wait for you and we’re hungry!” my older brother’s voice yells, the sound forcing me out of my thoughts. I push the topic of Blair out of mind.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I call back, emerging from my room and hurrying down before my entire family gets hangry.
I am greeted with the smell of roasted chicken, perfectly cooked green beans, and…something else?
“Hey, family of mine.” I sniff the air again. “Is something burning?”
My mother jumps out of her seat, seat falling back on the carpeted floor with a thump. “The sauce!”
My father jumps up too, his seat mimicking his wife’s. “Caroline! You had one job!”
They both rush to the kitchen, which is built behind a swinging door that reminds me like something from a restaurant.
My siblings and I share a look, the three of us smiling. “Every time,” my sister says in a sing-song voice.
We all chuckle. My mother emerges from the kitchen. “The gravy is saved,” she says with a smile. She turns to me. “Thanks for the warning, Charlie.”
I nod to her in acknowledgement, and sit down, facing my siblings. My father eventually comes back with a small pitcher full of gravy, and sits down at the head of the table. My mother sits across from him. When I came out to my family as transgender, they were everything to do with supportive. So supportive, it was annoying. Since then, the topic comes up rarely, but besides that, the world is normal again. Just slightly less stressful not having to hide every queer thing I have from my parents.
“What were you doing up there?” my sister asks in her typical audacious way. “You’re usually the first one at the table long before dinner is ready.”
“I was texting my friends,” I lie.
“‘Friends’? Plural? You only have one friend.” my sister replies, before stuffing her face with gravy-soaked turkey.
My mother sets down her fork. “Abigail!” she says, just as my brother laughs and says, “Burn!”
I roll my eyes. Rude, but not necessarily untrue, however depressing that is. The problem with being transgender is, while the people of the town aren’t necessarily homophobic, I’m different compared to most of them. They know it, I know it. Liv was the first person to come up to me, and look at me like we were peers, we were equal. I soon learned that that is the kind of person Liv is.
Abigail shrugs. “What? It’s true! Liv is awesome, and everyone loves her. But she’s Charlie’s only friend.” Abigail looks at me. “Sorry sis.”
My father chuckles, before noticing Mom’s glare at his reaction, and he quickly repairs it, organizing his expression into a disapproving one.
“Mom, seriously. Abigail’s just joking,” my brother laughs.
“Well Logan Arlo Cromwell, a joke is supposed to be funny. That was not funny.” Logan quickly stops smiling.
The table is quiet for a heartbeat, and then my fellow siblings and I look at each other and… burst into laughter. My father joins in, and after a moment, my mother does too.
By the time we have all calmed down, there are tears in the corners of our eyes. Happy tears.
I grin. I love my family.

@Serpentess

Alrighty. There’s not really much context to give with this one, compared to my previous little stories.

The character is, from what I imagine, a young woman, though she’s really not connected to any of my characters/stories. I literally just wrote this one as a random thing. I will say this though, this one will likely surprise whoever reads it (some dark/sad undertones here).

Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

She wandered through the yard, a contented smile upon her face. The soft shine of moonlight beamed upon the soil as her bare feet walked along the many paths.

Her hand reached out to caress some of the stone pillars and pedestals she passed. Some had writing upon them, others didn’t. And some had grand statues or carvings, while others were simple cut stone. It mattered little to her.

She hummed a gentle tune, turning down a path that led her to a new addition of the yard, closer to the great house beyond the yard’s gate. There, the flowers were more tended to, and occasionally someone would drop off more. It all seemed so trivial to her, but she did enjoy smelling the flowers, even petting them.

As she inspected the flowers, she noticed someone had brought tulips. Oh, how she loved tulips, particularly the red ones! They were so beautiful. She giggled happily, then moved along down another path, one that ran alongside the elaborate fence surrounding the yard.

As she walked, she looked through the fence to the beautiful sight of the ocean. Her gaze drifted down, to the rocky beach at the bottom of the great hill the yard sat upon. Soft blue light gleamed on the rocks and in the water, a gorgeous display of nature’s beauty. One could almost be driven to tears by the sight.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when dawn approached. She sighed sorrowfully, deciding it was best to return to bed. Turning down another path, she couldn’t help but smile again.

It was such a tranquil place here, quiet and existing without guilt, a refuge to those that seek solace. It brought her peace to know that places like this existed. But, she supposed that’s what happened when one lived in a graveyard.

I LOVE IT!!! The whole time I was just engrossed. AND THE ENDING. The whole thing was well paced, the information was given subtly, and the MC seems like such an intriguing character. AMAZING. You might just want to say "a CONTENT smile upon her face", just because it's simple. But maybe it's just a choice and you prefer this version. Either way, im obsessed. Do you have any ideas on what the plots going to be about?

Thank you, I’m glad you like it!

I can definitely see what you mean with ‘content’ vs. ‘contented’. I actually didn’t even notice that little detail until you pointed it out, lol, but it works either way for me.

Honestly I’m not sure. It was inspired by the prompt, and actually vaguely references it with the rocky beach, and that was pretty much it. But, I definitely could turn it into a story… a moment of deep contemplation… I just got to figure out what I want to do with it, lol. There’s so many things I could do.

@wordlesswriter