sharing life through words
Hello.
We have created this journal in the hope you might share your fiction. The idea is to take time each day to write.
Feel free to offer anything, be it an on-going story, a short piece of fiction, a poem, a riddle, or whatever takes your fancy.
Some days we might offer prompt words, ideas or directions, which you can employ or ignore. This is simply to encourage more writing, more criticism, and more of a word-based community.
Anything you want to see posted should be sent to the email link posted on this page; this account will be checked for submissions twice a day and then posted as soon as possible.
In your email, please specifiy the following:
- whether you want your writing to be posted publicly or privately (note: if you choose to write privately, the group name and password will be emailed to you)
- if your writing is a stand alone piece or part of a bigger project, to be posted in segments
- whether you would like a link posted to your blog or website.
CAUTIONARY NOTE: Please treat others and their stories as you would like to be treated. Constructive and respectful criticism is appreciated, as are comments praising a person's writing.
We hope you feel like joining in. It really is as easy as:
(1) write your words
(2) email them via the email link on this page
(3) comment on posted stories
(4) repeat above.
Happy writing!
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Untitled Part II, by Shennanigans
Please Note: Due to a communication error, there was a very small portion of Part I which did not appear (the last sentence). Before continuing to Part II, please go back to Part I and catch the ending. Thanks!
Untitled, Part II
*Splash!*
The sound continues to replay in his mind, like a CD caught on itself - over and over, it refuses to quiet itself or allow any other sounds to exist in his head, but for a glimpse of time.
Chills come over his body and he wonders why. The cold feels so real to him, even under the layers of blankets. He shivers and tries to think of a warmer place. . .
He drifts into a blissful thought of a hot sun on a black sand beach. A heat-drenched breeze washing over his body. Swimming in water, warmed by the sun and the equator.
He realizes his body is no longer chilled, but pleasantly warm.
Quietness comes over him like a welcome hug.
*****
The medic has left, promising to return later, so she sits nervously watching over him. His body moves, as though it is being pulled by a marionette's strings.
There is little she can do but sit idly by, so she sits and waits, silently whispering prayers to herself and the air, hoping they will do what she has been taught. She prays for his soul, for his body, for his mind, and for the reason he is here now.
She watches someone come near to him. As the person inches toward him, she hears the person talking quietly, almost as if to no one in particular, but knowing the words are for him.
"The last I saw was you tumbling through the air. There's rumors, you know. Rumors that you jumped, that you were pushed, that it was an accident. No one knows but you, my friend. So many people, so many versions twisting around the same facts, but none offering the answer." The person looks over a shoulder, seeming to realize not being alone. Turning back to him, the person remains quiet now.
After moments pass, the person slowly walks away from him, again leaving him with only her silent repetitions.
*****
He is seeing images, flashes of people, in quick succession. He recognizes some of them, while others are strangers to his memory.
He feels her presence, opening his eyes to try and focus on her. He sees a hazy image; his brain refusing to draw her into a solid form. He hears someone talking to him.
"So many people...rumors...truth...friend."
He hears feet scuffling on the floor, away from him. He didn't want to talk to anyone yet anyway, so he thinks it is best that his eyes kept themselves shut. Feigning sleep has always been a craft at which he is capable.
The words sink in deeper and he finds that a thought continues to escape him. One thing does not -
a sight. . .
Untitled, Part II
*Splash!*
The sound continues to replay in his mind, like a CD caught on itself - over and over, it refuses to quiet itself or allow any other sounds to exist in his head, but for a glimpse of time.
Chills come over his body and he wonders why. The cold feels so real to him, even under the layers of blankets. He shivers and tries to think of a warmer place. . .
He drifts into a blissful thought of a hot sun on a black sand beach. A heat-drenched breeze washing over his body. Swimming in water, warmed by the sun and the equator.
He realizes his body is no longer chilled, but pleasantly warm.
Quietness comes over him like a welcome hug.
*****
The medic has left, promising to return later, so she sits nervously watching over him. His body moves, as though it is being pulled by a marionette's strings.
There is little she can do but sit idly by, so she sits and waits, silently whispering prayers to herself and the air, hoping they will do what she has been taught. She prays for his soul, for his body, for his mind, and for the reason he is here now.
She watches someone come near to him. As the person inches toward him, she hears the person talking quietly, almost as if to no one in particular, but knowing the words are for him.
"The last I saw was you tumbling through the air. There's rumors, you know. Rumors that you jumped, that you were pushed, that it was an accident. No one knows but you, my friend. So many people, so many versions twisting around the same facts, but none offering the answer." The person looks over a shoulder, seeming to realize not being alone. Turning back to him, the person remains quiet now.
After moments pass, the person slowly walks away from him, again leaving him with only her silent repetitions.
*****
He is seeing images, flashes of people, in quick succession. He recognizes some of them, while others are strangers to his memory.
He feels her presence, opening his eyes to try and focus on her. He sees a hazy image; his brain refusing to draw her into a solid form. He hears someone talking to him.
"So many people...rumors...truth...friend."
He hears feet scuffling on the floor, away from him. He didn't want to talk to anyone yet anyway, so he thinks it is best that his eyes kept themselves shut. Feigning sleep has always been a craft at which he is capable.
The words sink in deeper and he finds that a thought continues to escape him. One thing does not -
a sight. . .
Read/Post Comments (4)
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