Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
POEM STARTER
Inspired by Cheyenne King
Write a poem where someone is summoned by destiny or fate.
Maybe this person feels like they have a 'calling', or maybe in a fantasy world destiny really does come for people.
Writings
I feel this need To be perfect To stay inside the lines To fit in the perfect box That was designed by society But not made for me I feel the need to exceed expectations And fly to the moon To make someone else happy The perfect weighs on my shoulders Pushes me forward Pushes me around And I have no choice anymore it need to be neat and tidy Things have to happen a certain way The stantards of perfection float out of reach Closing the walls in on me I cant handle the push and pull anymore Perfection is nk longer my priority It is time to focus on just being me
It calls me Yet no one knows Where it goes Or where it lies
It hides itself From only me Hides itself In the shadows
I must go Towards it As far as I must go I will go
It calls me Yet no one knows Where it goes Or where it lies
But I will follow it I will find it No one will stop me No one could try
And so I went I followed it With my heart And soul
It calls me Yet no one knows Where it goes Or where it lies
Except me It called me I followed it It took me to my fate
It allowed me to find myself To be myself To show others their fates And futures
I try to follow my own path But I guess I canât Every time I try Something pulls me back I donât know what it is But I donât know what to do
Maybe I donât try to hold back Maybe I should try what the world Has in store for me Maybe I should wait For something called fate To call me where I belong
Part One: The Arrival of Ringo
It was hard to fall asleep that night, even though the evening air was nice and cool. Celeste lay in bed, tears streaming down her face as she fought against the storm within her. Her parents were separating, and everything she thought was solid was cracking apart. They didnât want her anymore; they were sending her away. Panic gripped her heart as she felt utterly powerless.
âItâs not your fault,â a voice whispered through the darkness.
Celeste shot up, eyes wide, scanning the dimly lit room. âWhose there?â she demanded, her breath quickening.
Perched on her windowsill was a figure cloaked in shadows. He pulled down his hood, revealing wolf ears that seemed to catch the moonlight and stormy blue eyes that held the depth of oceans.
âYou look scared,â he noted, his voice a low murmur that wrapped around her like a familiar blanket.
âWouldnât you be if a random stranger sat in your window?â she shot back, trying to sound defiant, though fear clung to her words.
Ringo chuckled, the sound a warm melody, and stepped into the room as if she had invited him. He shook his fur, droplets of water flinging onto her walls, glistening like stars against the darkness. Celesteâs gaze drifted around her fortress of band posters and chaotic sketches, art supplies strewn across her desk, and fantasy books piled high like gateways to other worlds.
âSo youâre out of the Hello Kitty stage, are you?â Ringo teased, his brows arching playfully as he took in her room's vibrant mess.
Celeste stared back at him, bewildered. Her reflection in the glass caught her eyeâdisheveled short hair, red-rimmed eyes, white scars gracing her forearms, remnants of endless scribbles. She didnât say anything, but the silence spoke volumes.
Ringoâs expression softened, his eyes reflecting an understanding that seemed to dive deep into her soul. With a graceful leap, he left the desk and came closer, standing tall and steady before her.
Suddenly, a shout echoed from downstairs, accompanied by a thud and the shattering of glass. Her parents were at it againâtheir voices rising, piercing the fragile shell of her reality. Ringoâs ears twitched, flattening against his head as the shouting escalated.
âBreathe,â Ringo instructed gently, stepping closer, the warmth radiating from him a stark contrast to her cold room. âYou can feel everything, but you donât have to bear it alone.â
âI donât want to feel anything,â Celeste said, burying her face in her hands, ashamed of her tears. âI just want it to stop.â
âYou canât stop whatâs happening,â he said, his voice soft yet firm, âbut you can let it flow through you. Emotions arenât meant to be bottled up; they are powerful, like a river that needs to flow. Let me help you navigate it.â
Celeste lifted her gaze, eyes glistening with confusion. âHow could you possibly help?â
He approached slowly, lowering himself to her level. âIâm not just a figment of your imagination, Celeste. Iâm a part of your dreams, your hopes, and yes, your fears too. Iâm here to show you how to turn those emotions into something beautiful.â
Part Two: Embracing the storm
As days turned into nights, Ringo became a constant presence in Celesteâs life. He guided her through the maze of her emotions, transforming her darkest moments into vivid scenes that she could explore rather than avoid.
One evening, as rain drummed against her window, Celeste felt herself slipping into a daydream. With Ringo by her side, they wandered through a mystical forest where colors danced in the air and music floated like petals in the wind.
âThis is where you can release your fears,â Ringo said, leading her to a crystal-clear pond. âThe water reflects not just your image but the essence of your emotions. You see the pain, but can you also see the strength behind it?â
She leaned over the water, her reflection swirling like a tempest. Memories flooded her mindâarguments, fear, lonelinessâbut also strength, resilience, and the fierce love she still held for her parents despite everything.
âWhat if they donât change?â Celeste whispered, the weight of uncertainty anchoring her heart.
âThey may not,â Ringo replied, âbut that doesnât define you. You have the power to shape your own journey. Use those feelings; channel them into art, music, stories⊠anything. Let your creativity flow.â
With Ringoâs words igniting a spark within her, Celeste began to open up. Each day after school, she would retreat to this enchanted realm where Ringo showed her how to harness her emotions. The simple act of painting her feelings became a cathartic releaseâsunlight-yellow strokes for her joys, deep blues and violets for her sadness, and fiery reds for her anger and frustration.
As their bond deepened, Celeste realized that Ringo wasnât just a manifestation of her imagination; he had become her confidant, her muse. He helped her weave a tapestry of emotions, turning pain into passion, and her tears into art.
Part Three: The Unraveling
But amidst her journey of self-discovery, the tangible reality of her fracturing family loomed ever larger. The arguments intensified, and each night, Celeste would lie awake, Ringo perched silently on her desk, his presence a soothing balm against the chaos below.
One night, the downstairs commotion reached a fever pitch, shaking the very foundation of her world. The sound of furniture crashing filled the airâsharp, violent, and unrelenting.
Celesteâs heart raced, fear gripping her thoughts. âRingo,â she whispered, her voice quaking, âwhat if they canât fix this? What if they just⊠hate each other?â
âTheyâre battling their own storms,â Ringo replied, stepping closer. âBut your love exists outside of that chaos. You can love them even when you canât fix them.â
Her gaze shifted toward the window, where rain poured down like a curtain, obscuring the reality outside. âMaybe⊠maybe I can turn this into something. Maybe I can write about it⊠draw itâŠâ
âExactly,â Ringo encouraged, his eyes lighting up. âChannel that hurt into art. Let it become a part of your story. Youâre not powerless; youâre an artist.â
As dread hung in the air, Celeste felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. She grabbed her sketchpad and, with trembling hands, began to draw. The lines flowed onto the page, transforming fear into raw emotion.
The pencil captured the storm of her parentsâ shouting but also the soft glow of a future where she would thriveâcities of hope, dragons of courage, and the gentle embrace of friendship and love.
Look closely, Ringo reminded her softly, stepping back to watch her work. Youâll see that even the darkest storms end, and when they do, new beginnings emerge.
And as she filled the pages with swirling colors and emotive lines, Celeste felt the weight of her fear lift. In a moment of clarity, she realized that her art was a refugeâa reminder that even in chaos, beauty could emerge.
Part Four: The Transformation
As weeks slipped by, the storm in her life began to reveal rays of sunlight. Celeste continued to pour her emotions onto canvas, using each brushstroke to bridge the gap between chaos and clarity. Ringo was always by her side, guiding her through.
One fateful night, after the echoes of another late-night argument faded, Celeste found herself sitting on her bed, the moonlight pouring through her window. âRingo, what if they donât change? What if they never stop fighting?â
âThey may not,â he said, his voice steady and reassuring. âBut thatâs their journey, Celeste. Your path is uniquely your own. Stand tall in your truth. You canât control their actions, but you can control how you respond to them.â
Celeste nodded, an understanding washing over her. âYouâre right. I canât let them dictate my happiness. Iâll keep creating and sharing my truth.â
âGood,â Ringo smiled, his eyes sparkling. âAnd never forget that even when things get dark, the stars shine bright above. Even in the depths of your struggles, thereâs hope. You just have to look for it.â
And so, with Ringoâs encouragement, Celeste prepared for her first art show at schoolâan exhibition not just of her talents, but of her story. The pieces would talk of hurt, healing, love, and lossâa symphony of her emotions laid bare for others to feel.
As the day approached, her excitement mingled with anxiety. On the night of the show, she stood before the gathered crowd, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. With Ringo at her side in spirit, she began to speak.
âThis collection tells my story,â she said, her voice trembling at first but gaining strength with every word. âItâs about navigating the storms of my life, finding beauty in chaos, and embracing the emotions that make me who I am.â
As she shared her feelings, she saw nods of understanding, tears glistening in the audienceâs eyes. Her words connected them in a shared human experience, and she no longer felt alone.
In that moment of vulnerability, Celeste understood that her emotions, once a source of pain, could also be a wellspring of connection and healing. And with Ringo guiding her every step, she began to reclaim her storyânot just as a tale of a girl caught in a storm but as a testament to resilience, creativity, and hope.
Part Five: The New Dawn
The months that followed unfolded like a blossoming flower. Celesteâs art flourished, and with each new piece, she integrated her experiences, channeling her heartbreak into powerful expressions of resilience. Ringo remained by her side, a steadfast ally in every brushstroke, every word, every note of her newfound music.
Her family still struggled, but Celeste learned to carve her own path through the chaos. Rather than ignoring her parentsâ fights, she found ways to express her feelings, be it through painting or journaling.
Over time, she began to see glimpses of her parents navigating their emotions tooâperhaps they could find a way to co-exist without hurting each other, just as she had learned to deal with her own storm.
One evening, as she worked on a new painting filled with vibrant colors and swirling, chaotic forms, Ringo watched with pride. âWhat title will you give this piece?â he asked, his eyes sparkling.
âNew Dawn,â she replied, a smile brightening her face. âIt signifies hope, the idea that every chaos can transform into something beautiful.â
âThatâs perfect,â he affirmed, wagging his tail in approval. âAlways remember, Celeste, every day is a new beginning. Embrace each dawning moment.â
And as Celeste soaked in Ringoâs words, she understood that the storms of life would come and go. But with every challenge, there was an opportunity for growth, for art, for connection, and for the indomitable strength she carried within her.
With Ringo by her side, she realized the power of her emotions not only helped her navigate the storms but also allowed her to create art that resonated deeply with others, singing a melody of hope amidst the chaos. Celeste learned that she was a symphony in herselfâa fusion of light and shadow, sadness and joy, all woven together in the vibrant tapestry of life.
In the end, she was no longer just a girl trying to cope with her parents' separation but an artist and a storyteller, ready to embrace new adventures, dreams, and possibilities. And with that thought, Celeste smiled, knowing the dawn was just the beginning of her own incredible journey.
Sometimes Just sometimes Our life shatters before our very eyes Just like it was made of glass We forget how fragile our lives can be But just as easy as it shattered Sometimes Just sometimes It can be built back up as easy
Let people in Donât be stubborn Let those who care, help you Let them repair you So that one day you can be like Rome And be whole again.
All I see is Shattered pieces I canât look away From all this pain in the war we waged A war never meant to be ours to fight We were The peace keepers Never cause harm And now all I hear is alarms Going off in the distance I canât help wonder if this is how we end The end of all that we stood for All that we fought for To fight for a Republic weâd never see To fight for peace And live out of service And in death we serve a high purpose I can no longer see In the grand scheme of things How all of this was worth anything in the end I guess it doesnât matter who won in the end In death we both lost the fight.
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