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Write a poem that begins and ends with three single syllable words. http://www.poewar.com/poetry-prompts/
TW: Suicide NOTE: Idk why I keep writing such dark poems, but I hope you enjoy this anyways. No more pain. Finally she could escape From the terror, the strife. No more would she suffer, Finally ending her life. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind, As she crept down the hall, That what she was doing was wrong. No doubts at all. Because finally she’d be free. No more of this hell. She would finally be heard Without wasting her yell. She wouldn’t have to cry Herself to sleep every night. She wouldn’t have to break Wouldn’t lose another fight. She opened the drawer, The gun was a fang. She held it to her head Pulled the trigger. BANG! No more pain.
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NOTE: I'm working on a new Ashera chapter right now, and it will be coming soon. Sorry that it's taken so long! :)
I get my hopes up I really wish I didn’t It’d save me my brain So much heartache So much pain It’s just unfair I try my best at everything I put all of myself into my endeavors But they crash and burn They fail completely They always take a twisted turn And it’s unfair This could’ve been my shot My chance My one chance To prove myself But it’s not I’m not as special as I thought But it’s unfair I was finally going to get it Finally be the best Finally I could be sneering Hear people cheering Calling for me Show them all what I could do Show myself what I could do But it didn’t work And it’s unfair I know I’ll have another shot Many more chances that I’ll blow And maybe, someday One that I won’t But it should’ve been now It should’ve come sooner Everyone else got their's How long will I have to wait for mine? A long time. Life isn’t fair. And that’s unfair. A spirit animal’s quest to choose their human. https://www.eadeverell.com/100-story-ideas/
Uh, hi. Let me introduce myself. My name is Barnaby and I’m a spirit animal. Now, I hear you asking, “Barnaby, what is a spirit animal?” Well, uh, spirit animals are spirits that guide humans through life. We protect them and try to lead them down the correct path for their life. Being a spirit animal is what every animal dreams of. We live our first lives the best that we can so when we get to the afterlife we may have the privilege of becoming a spirit animal. When I found out that I’d be becoming a spirit animal, I was happier than I’d ever been. However, that quickly faded. You see, most spirit animals are heroic, majestic creatures. Wolves, lions, bears, cats, dogs-stuff like that. There’s a few oddballs here and there-I have a friend who is a Toucan-but almost everyone is an animal that some human out there would want to be. Not me. Nope, I’m an aardvark. Now, all spirit animals get to choose their humans. Most spirit animals find a human within a few days. After about a month, The Committee comes in to assist in finding one. I’ve been here for three years, four months, two weeks, and six days. It sucks being an animal that nobody wants. Other spirit animals don’t want to talk to you, you’re stuck living your life in purgatory, and you usually get stuck with a human that doesn’t want you. I couldn’t think of a life that could be more lonely. The Committee usually tried to stick me with bad people. People that not even the most skilled spirit animal could help. I always refused-at least waiting here I had hope. Anyways, you can see why I was concerned when The Committee called me in saying that, “They had found the perfect human for me.” They’d said that before; it was never true. But you’re not supposed to ignore The Committee’s summons, so I went. Your character thinks her boss is looking for an excuse to fire her. She decides to fight back.... https://www.creative-writing-now.com/short-story-ideas.html
Lexi glared as her boss, Maria, made her rounds. She stopped at Lexi’s desk, frowning at the mess that had gathered on it. “What are you working on today, Lexi?” “Well, last week you-” “Stop, stop, stop,” Maria said, holding up a hand. “Last week? Shouldn’t you be done by now?” “Well, it’s a fairly big project and you only assigned it on Friday,” Lexi said. “Are you talking back to me?” “What?! No, I uh-” “Get it done today, Fisher,” Maria said with a glare before walking off. Lexi turned to her coworker, Ken, and hissed, “Do you see what I mean?! She’s totally looking for a way to fire me!” “I don’t think-” “Did you see how harsh she was on me?” “Well, yes, but-” “Well, I’ve had enough of her bullying. I’m not going to take her bullshit anymore. From now on, I fight back.” TW: Death, Alzheimer's
I sat atop a tall chestnut mare, doing my best to navigate with the small compass I was given. Dora rode beside me on a smaller dapple gray mare. “So...your dad is certainly something,” she said. “Tell me about it,” I said. “I wanted to punch him at least ten times while we were in there.” “I can see why,” Dora said. “Do you think all that stuff about your mother was true?” I sighed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. Whether it’s true or not, she must not have liked being here. Otherwise she would’ve told me about it.” “Or she liked it so much that it hurt her to talk about it,” Dora said. “I guess I’ll ask her when I get back,” I said. “Either way, I’m sure Leroy means well.” “I hope.” Dora looked at the ground. “You’re lucky that he’s trying. I’d kill to have a father, even one like that.” My heart went out to her. I had grown up without a father, too, and it felt wrong that I had one now, but it was a hell of a lot better than thinking he’d abandoned me. “I’m sorry, Dora.” “Don’t be,” she shrugged sadly. “You can’t fix it.” But I’d give anything to be able to I thought. “You never told me about what happened to your mom,” I said. Dora stiffened. “Uh, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” “No, you’ve told me plenty about your life-you deserve for me to tell you this,” she sighed. “It’s just...hard.” She took a deep breath and I waited for her to continue. “I was raised by my mom,” she began. “We were super close. I didn’t have any siblings and, obviously, my dad was out of the picture, so it was just the two of us. Until…” she trailed off. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” “Stop saying that, Damian,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s okay, really. I want you to know.” I held my tongue and she continued, “She just disappeared one day when I was about 11. When I left for school she was there, and when I got back she wasn’t.” Dora sighed deeply, her entire form hunching into itself. “For a couple days I went on like everything was normal, staying either at home or at school. But she didn’t come back. I had asked people in my town about her but they didn’t know anything. She was just...gone.” “Dora I’m-” “Stop apologizing,” she said. “Really, it’s okay. I dropped out of school and dedicated my life to searching for her. I haven’t made much progress yet…” She looked over at me, gazing into my eyes. “That’s why I wanted to help you find a cure for your mom. I kind of have a soft spot for things like this.” “You’ll find her,” I said. “What?” “You’ll find her. You’re brilliant, you’ll be able to do it.” Dora flushed, looking down at the ground. “Well, uh, thanks.” I smiled shyly. “No problem.” We sat there in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other. Something passed between us-an understanding, a new closeness. Dora cleared her throat. “We should...uh…” “Right,” I said, nudging my horse forward. “C’mon, Lazio’s place is only a little while from here.” You stand there, snickering
telling me how I am wrong You’re telling me who I am Who I should be Who I cannot be Try to take away where I belong You try to take my art-my soul And throw it down a deep spiraling hole To darkness And destruction To pain and misery To failure You try to say yes and no You try to tell me what is right You try to turn everything you see Into dull black and white But art isn’t meant to be like that There’s a reason why paintings are in color There’s a reason why poems rhyme There’s a reason why dancers don’t stand in place There’s a reason why creation takes time There’s a reason why stories unfold There’s a reason why songs have a tune There’s a reason why art has never died There’s a reason it won’t be gone anytime soon That’s because it can fill people up It can bring them down It can make you smile Or it can make you frown It’s because we don’t stop to think We just change minds with our work Destruction is what tears us apart It breaks everything And us creators reverse destruction So you can stand there snickering You can try to tell me I’m wrong But I’ll never believe you I’m right where I belong Staring at his reflection https://www.journalbuddies.com/writing-topics/daily-writing-prompts-adults/
NOTE: So I was listening to literally the most upbeat song ("So They Say" from "Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog" if any of you wanna listen to it) while writing this GRUESOME short story and I really embody the stereotype of author’s being heartless monsters who laugh at deaths and I just thought that was important for y'all to know. Enjoy! TW: Death Joseph stared at his reflection in the mirror, running a finger along the cheekbones that now protruded from his face. The last time he had been here was before it happened. He’d changed a lot since then, mostly for the worst. He had become skinny and pale and gaunt. His eyes were no longer bright blue, shining with hope. Instead, they were the dark, deep blue of sadness. The sea after a storm, where nothing of use is left. But more than that, he’d changed. Not just his face or his eyes, but his core. He wasn’t happy anymore. He was always breaking down or exploding at his friends or, worse of all, not doing anything. Just sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked up a book or played a video game. Probably before he died. “I’m worried about him,” Joseph heard his mom saying the other day. “His grades are slipping and he’s just not himself. He hasn’t smiled for months. “That’s understandable,” his dad replied. Joseph hated that. No more did his dad get into arguments or offer advice, it was always “That’s understandable” or “Give him time” or “He’ll come around.” “Of course, of course,” Joseph’s mom said. “I’m just worried about him is all.” “I know, honey,” his dad had said. “It’s okay. He’ll come around.” Joseph had almost punched him. He wanted to kick something over now, just thinking about it. You didn’t just “come around” after something like this. They didn’t know what it was like to lose your best friend. Sure he’d been like family to them, but he was Joseph’s best friend! You couldn’t just get over that. “Joseph, come on. It’s time for the funeral,” his mom called from the other room. “Coming,” Joseph replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. He reached over and, from his nightstand, grabbed the thing that he had come here for. A thick leather band, with the letters J and K scratched into it. Joseph wore an identical band on his wrist. He was going to bury that band with him, and never take his own off. Then, at least some part of him could last past death. NOTE: I’m so sorry this took so long, this series was not meant to take weeks to complete but I’ve been so busy and I just haven’t had the time to complete it. It’s here now, though, and the third and final chapter will be out way sooner. Enjoy!
TW: Alzheimer's, abandonment, sexism “I’m a what?!” My mouth hung agape. “No, no, I can’t be a prince. That makes no sense! Someone would’ve come for me or my mom would’ve told me or-” “Hey, hey, it’s okay, calm down. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this,” the girl said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “How am I supposed to calm down?!” I asked, shaking her hand off. “Would you be able to calm down if you just found out you were royalty?!” “Dude, chill,” the girl said. “It shouldn’t change anything. Now you just have a little extra help while you’re here, right?” I nodded. “I guess that makes sense,” I said. I looked up at the girl. She had short brown hair and green eyes-surprisingly beautiful now that they were so gentle. “We haven't been properly introduced,” I said. “My name is Damian. Damian Khatri.” “Pandora Cortez.” “Pandora? Like the myth?” “Yeah.” “Didn’t Pandora doom all of civilization by releasing evil into the world?” “She didn’t doom them! She was curious-plus she gave the world hope inside that box as well,” Pandora said. Then, softer, “My mother loved that myth.” “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” I shrugged. “Well, do you know where Lazio is? I have to find him.” “Why?” “Like I said, it’s for my mom,” I said. “She’s sick and there’s no cure in my world that can help her. If this Lazio guy is as great as my dad thinks, he may have something that can help her.” Pandora looked down at the ground for a moment, deep in thought. After a minute or so of silence, I asked, “So…?” “I’m coming with you,” she said, jumping to her feet. “Wait, what? Why?” “Are you kidding me? I just found the prince of Desiderare-the son of the lost queen. If I can return you to King Leroy-” “Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” I said. “I’m not going to King Leroy. I’m going to Lazio and getting out of here. The quicker I can get home, the better.” I started to walk away, but Pandora grabbed me by the arm. “Don’t be stupid. Walking to Lazio will take days. The least we could do is go to the castle and get some extra help in finding him.” I thought about it. “We’ll be there and back faster?” I asked. “Definitely.” “Let’s do it,” I said. “Lead the way.” 7) Write a poem based on your belief about life after death... or about what you WISH you believed. https://www.creative-writing-now.com/creative-writing-prompts.html
NOTE: This isn’t what I believe, perse, but I thought it’d make a good poem. Someday we will all retire from this earth Our lives here will end with our final breath And we’ll continue on our journey One that won’t be stopped by death We’ll all go onto heaven Where good and evil unite All given a second chance All given different sight Together we will stand Locked by the bonds of life No more will any struggle Give up their toil and strife Alas, that’s what I wish Sadly, there’ll never be a place where good and evil can coexist The sad truth is, one will be favored And the other will be dismissed. There’ll be no second chances No chance to restart You’ll be judged on entry, Not what’s in your heart. |
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