Write a story or poem that could be title 'We Fly'.
Die Luft, die unter den Achseln kitzelte, trieb sie dazu zu landen. Der Ast auf dem sie nun stand ächzte unter ihrem Gewicht. Berta war dieser Schwere dankbar, denn sie hilt den Wind davon an, sie weiterzutragen. Denn die Luft, die Berta durch die Haare an ihren Armen und Beinen ziehen spürte löste eine kochende Wut in ihrem Magen aus. „Lass mich in Ruhe!“, schrie sie ihn an, doch er reagierte nic...
The breath of air stiring through my hair was nothing compared to the rush that would soon follow. Anticipation hushed the sounds of the fair ground to a dull roar in the back of my perception. The smells wafting through the air became hieghtened as the seats start to creep back. Pop corn, funnel cake, animal dung, gasoline…swirl through the air into my nostrils. The trendrils of my hair that were...
Channing went out into the pottery yard for his nightly walk through. He loved the twilight hour befote heading home.
He jumped when he heard a sudden crash and rushed to the sound.
It wont be the first time pots have fallen from the stacks. “I just hope its not the pricey ones.”
Rounding the corner to the back corner he paused, not seeing anyhing amiss.
Something buzzed around his head. Thi...
No sabiamos como pero volamos. Hpy volamos, despues de unos momentos de indecision y decisiones dificiles, volamos.
Un día, creímos en un sueño pero hoy volamos. Volamos a nuestros sueños y a estar juntos.
Volamos a querenos.
Volamos a confiar en nosotros mismo.
Volamos a vivir por nuestras vidas, por el futuro determinado por nosotros.
Volamos a querernos. A ver que nos trae la vida.
I watch on as it endlessly burns.
Veins of fire roaring up the trunks. Ash and embers eclipsing the sky. We fly over an orange scar.
Roaring heat fuelling my rage.
Our Lockheed passes overhead. Water falls lazily over the flames’ lips. I don’t see anything hit the soil.
The flames recede. They will return....
I always loved having a birds-eye view
Maybe because I’m short
Or because of those dreams I used to have as a kid
The ones where I leapt off the floor,
suddenly discovering I could fly.
At the carnival we let our legs dangle free,
Giant smiles spread like our arms
And I hear you sing the silly version of that song
“I believe I can fly, got shot by the FBI”
The fairground lights flash by as w...
Some people’s are black, some white, and every other color on the wheel.
People work them out , dye them, and even pierce them.
We have been taught how to take care of them.
They are ours, and the protect us from the dangers below.
Everyone is born with them, and they are are precious to us.
Some people call us freaks, other outcast, because they are jealous.
But we know.
We are Seeker, the peop...
Did I ever tell you the story of the old oak tree?
It’s been there as long as I can remember.
Did I ever tell you the story of the neighborhood kids?
We don’t talk anymore but I remember them fondly.
Did I ever tell you the story of the long drives?
Listening to that music that gives you hope.
Did I ever tell you the story of the star filled sky?
Twinkling and bright, just like you and I,
Similar writing prompts
Your character wakes up uncomfortably and is instantly faced with this scene. What happens next?