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!
Read/Post Comments (2)
Untitled Part III, by Shennanigans
Untitled, Part III
He sees the bright lights. There were so many of them, quickly, one after the other.
The elusive shadow briefly passes once again through his mind.
“What is it? What is that thing that keeps acting like a riddle to my mind,” he thinks slowly.
He tries once again to open his eyes and focus on her, the hazy form in his room. “What is she doing here?” She remains a ghostly apparition, even though her nearness to him should make her clear.
He can hear muttering; it has the melody of a chant, of a wartime march. He thinks maybe it is coming from her, but it has a cast of gloominess. “Why would she talk to me with such sadness in her voice? If I remember anything, her voice should sound like a thousand well played strings on a violin.”
*****
He knows it is the doctor pressing down on his legs, his arms, his forehead… “There is no reason I can find for his heart-rate to be increasing and decreasing so incredibly. We can attempt to give a little more, but I am hesitant to add the other until I have tried all remaining options available.”
She watches as the group of people surround him. She knows they are there to help, but she cannot resist the feeling that it is out of their hands. She continues her solitary watch, the words easily leaving her and flowing toward him and the air.
“It is nice that he has visitors coming and going. So many like him have no one. Medically proven or not, I think it helps a person’s progress.”
The medic walks away, glancing toward where she is sitting.
“Mmm… Nice to have the feeling of warmth and love around.”
*****
As the lights go off, he feels relief. His eyes have taken a dislike to anything but dark.
He feels a sensation, then it evaporates from his body. Again, he feels it. This time it sticks to him like a resin.
*****
Another enters into his room. This one speaks to him loudly, hoping to wake him and have the conversation which has been hanging in the air.
“From the time your feet left the ground, I wasn’t sure. I felt you there, I was listening to you, and then it was silent and you were gone.” “Damnit, you’ve got to talk to me about this. I’ve got to know. You have answers that no one else can conjure up, and the theories are only becoming worse as time passes.”
His ability to fake sleep is notorious, so it is not possible to tell whether he is sleeping or ignoring the words being spoken.
“I’m going to try to come back again. Im not sure when I can get here. Whenever it is, we need to get our thoughts out into words.”
Another person, head low and sighing, walks out of his room unsure of how to get a grip on this.
*****
He is once again alone. His mind continues to wander, yet also continues to hunt the prey of his consciousness.
His mind wants to capture what it is he cannot track.
Unbeknownst to him, what he is seeking is the feeling…
He sees the bright lights. There were so many of them, quickly, one after the other.
The elusive shadow briefly passes once again through his mind.
“What is it? What is that thing that keeps acting like a riddle to my mind,” he thinks slowly.
He tries once again to open his eyes and focus on her, the hazy form in his room. “What is she doing here?” She remains a ghostly apparition, even though her nearness to him should make her clear.
He can hear muttering; it has the melody of a chant, of a wartime march. He thinks maybe it is coming from her, but it has a cast of gloominess. “Why would she talk to me with such sadness in her voice? If I remember anything, her voice should sound like a thousand well played strings on a violin.”
*****
He knows it is the doctor pressing down on his legs, his arms, his forehead… “There is no reason I can find for his heart-rate to be increasing and decreasing so incredibly. We can attempt to give a little more, but I am hesitant to add the other until I have tried all remaining options available.”
She watches as the group of people surround him. She knows they are there to help, but she cannot resist the feeling that it is out of their hands. She continues her solitary watch, the words easily leaving her and flowing toward him and the air.
“It is nice that he has visitors coming and going. So many like him have no one. Medically proven or not, I think it helps a person’s progress.”
The medic walks away, glancing toward where she is sitting.
“Mmm… Nice to have the feeling of warmth and love around.”
*****
As the lights go off, he feels relief. His eyes have taken a dislike to anything but dark.
He feels a sensation, then it evaporates from his body. Again, he feels it. This time it sticks to him like a resin.
*****
Another enters into his room. This one speaks to him loudly, hoping to wake him and have the conversation which has been hanging in the air.
“From the time your feet left the ground, I wasn’t sure. I felt you there, I was listening to you, and then it was silent and you were gone.” “Damnit, you’ve got to talk to me about this. I’ve got to know. You have answers that no one else can conjure up, and the theories are only becoming worse as time passes.”
His ability to fake sleep is notorious, so it is not possible to tell whether he is sleeping or ignoring the words being spoken.
“I’m going to try to come back again. Im not sure when I can get here. Whenever it is, we need to get our thoughts out into words.”
Another person, head low and sighing, walks out of his room unsure of how to get a grip on this.
*****
He is once again alone. His mind continues to wander, yet also continues to hunt the prey of his consciousness.
His mind wants to capture what it is he cannot track.
Unbeknownst to him, what he is seeking is the feeling…
Read/Post Comments (2)
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