Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
WRITING OBSTACLE
Create a character who in some way embodies these three words: rough
cracked
ravenous
Writings
**_(Author’s Note: This is one of the longest stories I’ve ever written, but I promise it’s worth it. Thanks for reading! <3)
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“Again!”
Nikolai held his head in exhaustion. He had been at it for literal hours. Shadow warping himself so he can be “invisible”. But the closest he’d gotten was a dark cloud surrounding him that sparked with white hot electricity. Definitely not what he was going f...
There’s always some kind of line
between breaking and broken
You often don’t know you’re past it until it’s too late
There’s always a moment where you can be saved
And a moment where you find you’ve come too far
That turning back would be harder
Something inside you has cracked
splintered
turned to dust
And instead of living with a hole inside you
complacent to what the world does
t...
Have you ever been lost. Not just being seperated from the group, lost. You can’t see the sun to get orentated and at this point you have turned and twisted every way.
Here of all places in the swamps of Oklahoma. Yes apperently Oklahoma has at least one swamp. What makes this so terrible is all the story’s that live in these woodyswamps.
As night approaches I see a dark figure behind a tree ...
I saw it yesterday, maybe the whole package too.
I’m not sure what/how the whole clothes/covering situation works for creature-y beings and honestly, I don’t really want to know. This entire thing is freaking me out.
I just about lost it, couldn’t even tell what it had been, rancid and rotten and raw—and it was eating it.
_Ravenous._
There I was, innocently walking outside my own house and I’d...
I ran frail fingers across dry soil, searching for something edible.
How odd it was that on a tiperope with death, I felt so painfully alive.
The ravenous hunger inside me consumed every part of my being. But I didn’t just starve for food.
I starved for a home. A life that didn’t revolve around survival. A family. Perhaps even friends.
I starved for a sense of normalcy that I would never have....
The sound men
The sound men
The sound, sound men
make with their dry lips
around the rim of empty bottles,
speaking their foul breath into the glaringly empty amber pit
(that little whimper of the strong man, who can’t lift himself from the bottle)
the sound
the sound
the unsound sound that bleeding bears make in the falling woods when caught in jagged men-traps
you study the poet
in...
I saw her walking towards me with that ravenous stare in her eye. I knew it well, but not when she was like this. Now, her clothes transformed into lightning streaks, shattering the night sky. Her body moved towards me with serpentine strides, her face a rough distortion of who I knew and loved. She still wore that smile, though. Pink-lipped, teeth wide, eyes open. I backed up, watching as her fac...
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