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A story by Writerial.
NOTE: Whew, it’s been a while! I’ve been so incredibly busy for the last few months that I haven’t had any time to post Ashera-but it’s back! Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this and I hope you enjoy chapter 9! It took them a few days of travelling to near the towering Sky Mountains. Ryan had warned them of the dangerous creatures that resided in the rocky caverns, so they had stayed far away from where the mountains actually started. “What are we even looking for?” Fox asked as they walked. “We’ve been walking for days and no one has even bothered to tell me why.” “I told you, I don’t really know,” Ashera said. “I just feel like we need to go this way, you know?” “No.” “Well then suck it up.” Ryan appeared silently a few yards in front of them, holding a finger to his lips. “What is it?”
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11. Lessons From Math Class: Write about a math concept, such as “you cannot divide by zero” or never-ending irrational numbers. https://thinkwritten.com/poetry-prompts/
NOTE: I know this is a poem prompt, but I decided to write a short story instead. I know it’s a lot shorter than my usual Writing Prompt Wednesdays, but I think it’s a lot deeper too. Enjoy! TW: Death You can’t divide by zero. It just isn’t possible. You can divide zero by another number, that’s easy. Think about it. If you have zero dollars and eight friends, all eight friends have zero dollars. But if you have eight dollars and no friends, that’s where it gets tricky. It’s just...impossible. So you have to get rid of those eight dollars or make some more friends. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. Since he died, I’d shoved everyone away. My mom wouldn’t talk to me. My friends wouldn’t wave “hi”. Heck, even my dog wouldn’t come when I called him. I couldn’t help it that I shoved them away. They all told me it was going to be okay. That I’d get better. Well, what did they know, anyways? This pain ripped a hole in my heart. If something ripped off someone’s leg, you wouldn’t just say, “Oh, it’ll get better. You’ll have a new leg in no time!” It’s crazy. So why are people saying that to me? I could tell that they’d all gotten better. It made sense. No one was as close with him as I was. No one else went to the park with him every Wednesday to eat ice cream and talk about our lives. No one else was tutored in math by him. No one else looked at him like he was the funniest person on the planet, the only one who could make her laugh. No one else loved him like I did. And now, I had all of this pain and sadness that I knew would break me if I didn’t do something with it. I needed someone to come in and save me from this torture, but I couldn’t give any of my pain to other people. I was completely alone. And everyone knows you can’t divide by zero. You are a side character. You’ve always been a side character. In every movie, TV show, or book that has ever had some crazy supernatural shit go down. You’ve seen it all, and nothing surprised you anymore. You somehow always manage to befriend a main character, and that always drags you into these wacky adventures. One day, while sitting and talking with one of your newest main-character friends, you accidentally let it slip that you’ve been on countless adventures exactly like this one. To your surprise, they let out a sigh of relief and say, “I thought I was the only one.” https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/
NOTE: Okay, I actually really loved writing this one. I think this prompt makes for a great short story where the author can tease themselves a bit (you’ll see that near the end). I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Uh, hi. I guess I’m in a new story now. Well, I’ll start off with introductions. My name is Jeremiah Routh and I’m a side character. “Oh but how do you know that?” you ask. Please, I’ve been in so many stories it’s scary. You befriend some weird, lonely kid at school, then they discover something weird and Bam! you’re running away from some gargoyles as if your life depends on it (spoil alert-it did). There’s no stopping it, I have no control over it, and it’s just stupid. I seem to be the narrator in this story as well, which is a terrible decision if you ask me. Hey you! Author lady! Bad idea! No bueno! Anyways, I just made a new friend the other day. Taller kid, described as “handsome-but not in the noticeable way. A subtle handsome” so I think he’s our guy (main characters always have that sort of description. The authors think they're clever or something, jeez). His name’s Stephen Marinelli, so let’s go talk with him. While we’re walking, I have another rant. Why do I always have to be shorter than all the main characters? No matter what story I am-no matter how short the MC is, I'm always at least an inch shorter. I mean, I get that they’re supposed to look tall and heroic but I don’t want to look like a little kid next to them! Like, at least make me tall enough so I can reach the Oreo's on the top shelf! I spot Stephen sitting alone across the street. I call to him, “Yo, Stephen! What’s up?” “Hey Jeremiah,” Stephen says. “You okay?” I ask, repeating the words that I’ve had to every story I’ve been in. “It seems like something’s on your mind.” “Oh, it’s nothing.” “C’mon, talk to me,” I say. Then under my breath, I mutter, “The author will kill us both if you don’t.” “What?” “What?” Stephen looked confused for a second before he said. “I...saw a strange...thing last night. I don’t know what it was, but I heard a scream. I looked out my window and saw this brown blur. Then it was gone.” “Oh here we go again,” I said, louder than I had meant to. A poem by Writerial.
I try; I fail. They climb; they scale. And I'll never be good enough. They soar; they fly. I fall; I die. And it'll never be enough. There's a difference between fearing that you'll fail and fearing that you'll never succeed. I don't fear being rejected once, I fear being rejected forever. I fear that no matter how many tears, No matter how many years I put into trying to succeed, I'll still fail. Over and over. Until I die. And I tell myself that it couldn't happen. That anyone who puts this much work Into something Couldn't just fail. I could be wrong. I've been great at most things. Math, English, things that won't stay. But for my dreams "great" isn't okay I have to be extraordinary, Be everything I want to be. But what if that measure isn't what I can be? 58. For years, he carefully planned out this day https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/writing-prompts-60-ideas-you-can-use-today
He’d planned out today for his whole life. All of his 18 years, he planned out how he was going to graduate. He was going to walk down that aisle, get his certificate, and stand there in front of all of his friends and family knowing that he had made it. And now, that was all falling apart! “What do you mean I can’t graduate?!” he asked. “You didn’t get enough credits in math.” “I took all three years!” he said. “You only took three. We require four for graduation,” Mr. Pent said calmly. Jared was dumbfounded. “I don’t understand! It said three on class registration!” “That’s what colleges require. We require more than that.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, Jared, but you can’t graduate.” “What if I take zero period?” he asked. “Or I can change up something in my schedule or-” Jared wanted to continue, but Mr. Pent was already shaking his head. “Your schedule’s too full to change it now and as for zero period, it’s too late in the year to start you on that. I’m sorry, Jared, there’s just no other way.” Jared frowned. He felt tears stinging at his eyes. “Please, sir, there has to be some way…” “Well, there is one,” Mr. Pent said, frowning. “What? What is it, sir? I’ll do it.” “It’s very difficult-” “I’ll get it done, sir.” Mr. Pent frowned. “If you pass the AP Calculus exam then you’ll be able to get more credits and graduate.” Jared felt his hopes crash. “AP Calc?” he asked. “I hardly passed Math III. How am I supposed to pass AP Calc?” “Well, it’s the only way you’ll be able to graduate,” Mr. Pent said. “I wish you luck, Jared. A poem by Writerial.
NOTE: Hey, it's been a while since I posted something other than Writing Prompt Wednesdays, so I found this poem that I wrote a little while ago on my computer and I thought I'd post it. Uh, it's pretty dark, so sorry... TW: Self harm, suicide Do You Not See? Do you not see the way my shoulders sag over time? Do you not see the the cracking along my face and down my spine? Do you not see the anxiety, fresh in my mind? Do you not see the peace I'll never find? Do you not see the pain in my eyes? Do you not see the sorrow, the lies? Do you not see my fear at every turn? Do you not see my world start to burn? Do you not see the terror I feel? Do you not see my strength start to peel? Did you not see my pain all those times? Did you not see the scars, the lines? But now as you stand, my tombstone before you, I ask one question: Now do you see? 58. For years, he carefully planned out this day https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/writing-prompts-60-ideas-you-can-use-today
He’d planned out today for his whole life. All of his 18 years, he planned out how he was going to graduate. He was going to walk down that aisle, get his certificate, and stand there in front of all of his friends and family knowing that he had made it. And now, that was all falling apart! “What do you mean I can’t graduate?!” he asked. “You didn’t get enough credits in math.” “I took all three years!” he said. “You only took three. We require four for graduation,” Mr. Pent said calmly. |
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