Inspired by Kathy
Write a story about someone's fall from grace.
Where… am… I?
For a second, i don’t get up, i don’t open my eyes, I just lie there, grateful for my life. I’m… alive? My feet feel the sand underneath me, my nose smells salty sea air, my mouth tastes sand. But my mind doesn’t feel as if I should be real, as if I ahould still be alive.
I spit the sand out.
Wait, is Raindrop ok?! What about Mama!? My eyes fly open and I sit up fast. The sand is...
My shiny sapphire blue wings spread in the golden light of hope. I know can do this. I can! Mama said I am special. For her, I will be.
When I was little and upset about my project I worked so hard on getting a bad grade, she told me, “I believe you’ll do great things, and one grade won’t change that. You’re special, Nova.”
Sparkles might’ve appeared in my eyes with how happy I felt that she was...
Structure is the death of writing.
Always following, always abiding.
Pretty girls painting perfect pictures,
Pretty boys making lovely light fixtures.
Structure is the death of writing,
Always concealing, always hiding.
Pretty girls ruining their makeup,
Pretty boys told they must grow up.
Structure is the death of writing,
Always hiding, always hiding.
Little girls and boys forced to cry in ...
I don’t know why I bother anymore
I don’t know why I try,
When everyone and everything lets you down
90 something percent of the time
I don’t want help when their help does nothing
Spending 7 hours stairing at a wall
Pretending it does something.
Nothing makes me feel better and nothing works,
No breathing excersize
Alleviate my hurt!
She never thought this would happen. It was insidious, the little agreements she made, the ways she lied and then covered it up, and how it undermined her.
She was dancing, on stage, taking off her underwear. She has been a fashion designer the year before.
All her life she had tried to be respectable, and be perceived as trustworthy and accountable. Now, she had no ties to her old life. She was ...
I sometimes forget that I am unique.
I sometimes forget that I am not normal.
I “needed” to lose more weight,
I “needed” to cut in order to be seen.
I believed I need to be as small as her,
have clear skin like her,
be “pretty” like her.
But what is pretty?
Pretty is messy brown hair blowing in the wind.
Pretty is the red spots that cover my face.
Pretty is the small wrists that hold me together.
You were on top of the world
until your fingers betrayed you
your heart never would have
your actions displayed you
Let lofty light tosses
remind you of losses
so dear to me
And I'll kiss your cheek
Let my tip slice the air
You may not kiss the hilt
Or even stare
Your gloves are now tattered
Your confidence shattered
Your joints spilt in two
Your head in the code
My head in the air
and one day w...
Falling to rock bottom
I climbed the ladder
But I climbed too high
To the land of embarrassment
A place of those who slipped, like me
Who asked for too much,
Who climbed too high, where their weight could not hold
Where the ladder is harder to reach,
Harder to climb.
I don’t mind climbing the first time,
I love being at the top.
But I hate fallin...
She fell down the stairs.
They say that Grace pushed her.
They make excuses for her all the time.
And when her grades starting slipping?
Surely nothing could be wrong on their daughter’s half.
But she’s in the hospital now.
Grace says she has nothing to do with it.
Grace is being sincere,
But no one believes her anyways.
They hate Grace now.
Grace’s social life will never recov...
I am a broken man.
Despite my royal titles I am broken inside. I'm not sure if it happened at birth or later in life, but it did, somehow. I make people miserable when they're not pretty enough, persecute them, send the royal guard to protect the woman carrying the seed that will someday be my heir.
The only way I can calm my demons is by the presence of pretty young women, a womanis...
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