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A snippet of my book since you guys asked for more info! <3 @ze-melon-lord
For context, the setting is supposed to be similar to the Hellenistic Era of Ancient Greece, in a Caveat-like theatre(If you like my writing, and want to see more, PLS send me asks, the fandoms I write for and Nono's are pinned on my page)
Warnings// Depictions of gore and violence, guns and swords, minor cliffhanger if you squint
DO NOT repost w/out using the button on the post or claim as your own, you will be blocked and reported. All rights ARE reserved
Chapter One; Loyalty is Only Obsession
“Ms. Serafina? Ma’am, are you ready?” A young voice spoke up from the darkness of a corner. A dark, private, cavea-like seating area.
“Indeed, I should like to see the show begin…,” A heavenly deep voice responded, “Maybe this one will be different?”
On the guards’ ends, they passed a small cue down to the stage before replacing themselves behind the Goddess’s chair, “Ladies and gentlemen, let the show… begin!”
A disarming smile displayed on the Woman's lips, Her slender hand leaning softly against Her cheek. As She shifted Her hands, the off-shoulder sleeves on Her velvety black dress— garnished with silk roses—, wrinkled and slid ever so slightly up Her arms.
A messily beautiful display of tricks and twists went on at the infant stage below. The dear, dejected Serafina just couldn’t be satisfied by pulling rabbits out of hats, anymore. Of course, She couldn’t control that She was like this, She had simply existed for just… so long.
Some sorrowful display cast over Her smile whilst staring upon what the people thought Her upbringing had been, “This is all wrong…!”
“Would you like me to inform them?” A fit, armored, young woman knelt beside Her Grace.
“Absolutely not, Anthea; I would rather they not know than they be aware and revolt… Ignorance is bliss, afterall,” She kept Her stern facade through Her disgust.
“As you wish, My Liege,” The soldier of sorts returned to her post in the corner, armor clanking softly against itself.
The show continued, seemingly harmless. No one in the theatre nearly had the chance to catch the barrel of a gun in an actress’s boot. An evil grin consistently mistaken for one of enjoyment.
“and now…,” The man from earlier announced an hour since the start, “Let the beginning of the end commence!”
“Haah, finally…; this one was starting to bore me more than some of the others have… And I thought it would be different,” Serafina, ever the infamous one for never giving up pride, therefore, even when a show appalled Her, She stayed.
“You know, it would be a shame if-,” The lights went out, accompanied by the ping of a bullet ringing through the air — the result of Her own foolishness.
A deep chuckle slipped from Her mouth, “Oh, is it going to be interesting, afterall? Save the best for last, I suppose.”
“No, Miss, I-I don’t think that is part of the show,” Ethaan called, across from Anthea.
“Not part of the show? So you believe it may be an attack?”
“It is possible, yes,” He adjusted his glasses as if they had miraculously slid down his nose, which they were too tight to do.
“Then should we not evacuate the Lady?” Anthea protested.
“Err…” A small stutter sounded from the boy.
“If I am not in any immediate danger then what is the point?” Serafina stood up, turning around to face the two guards with a perky chuckle, “If it comes down to, then you shall fight.”
“If it is your order, My Lady,” Ethaan hesitantly obeyed, nodding as he turned and looked to his colleague.
The Woman placed a hand on the chair’s armrest from where she stood beside it. The young soldiers exchanged glances; they had only met fairly recently, though they figured they got along just fine.
“We can make that-” Bullets split the mount of one last burning candle, hurling flames towards the ground.
“Well, this means we fight?” Ethaan adjusted his glasses once more, the nerves shaking his fingertips.
“It does. Lady Serafina, please get back.” Anthea stood her ground, moving slightly in front of her superior.
With the Goddess safely behind Her guards, they readied themselves. Combat may be approaching.
“Where is it coming from? Do you think it is one person or multiple?” Her trusted guards quickly questioned the Lady.
“The first shot sounded like it came from the stage, when the lights went out. And if the one from just now managed to hit our only light left… then it had to of also come from the stage; so, it is at least one of the actors.” Serafina always had such an unnatural sense of hearing. Quite convenient, yes…
Stampeding footsteps raced up the stairs, just so happening to stop in front of their target —There were two of them.
The five of them only needed the slivers of moonlight, seeping in through scream-soaked curtains, to spot each other’s silhouettes. Second by second, breath by labored breath, the anticipation of who would move first—or even breathe first.
Ethaan and Anthea were too slow, the attackers too fast. The darkness blinded Serafina. How unfortunate, She just can’t see in the dark.
Pew, one bullet shot was all it took. Where was it going? To the Goddess? To the guards? The latter. Who? Anthea; she pushed her partner away, taking the bullet to her own abdomen. Wait…, a second shot? So quickly? Did they both have guns?
Ethaan didn’t risk it, he lunged at the anonymous—too late… He landed his blade in a shoulder, yes, but The Lady had already taken the blow.
Her senses had failed Her. She had only been hit in Her right eye, communication was still possible; unless it had gone too deep?
“Ms. Serafina!” Ethaan called out, watching as his boss dropped to Her knees.
She kept silent, still, and silent.
The only audible thing being the labored breaths of the others.
Panicked, the attackers left. Was that it? They thought the bullet took Serafina’s life; so, that was it? How awfully pathetic.
“They’re gone now; please tell me you’re alive, Milady!”
“Yes, I am fine. I only dropped, so they would leave. Though, My eye is definitely going to be blinded; the shrapnel got in it.” She paused, looking at the frightened boy, “Is Anthea alive?”
A withered, “Yes…” sounded from the ground, Anthea lay there, broken and defeated.
“Come now, we shall get you the medical attention you require; we can’t have My best in centuries dying on Me, now, can we?” Serafina carefully cradled the maimed maiden in Her arms, “You aren't injured, as well, are you Ethaan?”
He shook his head, thankfully in good physical health. Yes, physical, at the very least. Had anyone more been injured She wouldn’t have known what to do with Herself. She already didn’t know what to do with Herself; this whole moment felt oddly evocative, almost as if this had maybe happened to Her before. But it hadn’t, it couldn’t have! Or could it. Had it?
© a-yciecat
Hey so like, I'm currently writing a book and was wondering how many people would be interested in reading the first 2 or 3 chapters of it? It's set in a fantasy version of Ancient Greece, and the main characters are a goddess and her two guards. It's about the goddess, Serafina, and how the loyalty of one of her guards turns into the guard obsessing over her, and how everything takes a turn when the guard does something to "prove her loyalty" to Serafina. Would you guys be interested?
I need help renaming my story as it's prompted off of the title "white fang" which is already a very famous book
here's some bits in the book's: Frankensteinwhte type experiment gay romance between teen boys animal teeth car crash broken bones desperation
any like ideas on how to create a new title? (also yes my account is named after my writing because i really love it lol)
so i wrote the start of a piece fiction inspired by Frankenstein
it's a mlm, slightly horror, love story between an amoral scientist and his best friend who tragically dies at the start of the book
i'm obsessed with this story as it's the first bit of writing that made my teacher recognise my love for writing
it's called white fang as the prompt for the story was to use a pre-existing title so white fang by jack london
body language to use in your writing
he furrowed his eyebrows — in confusion or concentration
he raised his eyebrows — in surprise or skepticism
he narrowed his eyes — in suspicion or annoyance
he bit or pressed his lips together — in hesitation
his lips parted slightly — in shock or anticipation
he clenched his jaw — in frustration or determination
he tilted his head — in curiosity or disbelief
he wrinkled his nose — in disgust or disapproval
he rolled his eyes — in exasperation
he puffed his cheeks — in frustration or exhaustion
eye movements:
his eyes darted around — nervously
he avoided eye contact — out of guilt or shyness
he held eye contact — in defiance or intensity
he squinted slightly — in scrutiny
he looked down — in shame or submission
he glanced away quickly — in embarrassment
he stared blankly — in shock or dissociation
he blinked rapidly — in disbelief or surprise
his eyes widened — in fear or astonishment
he peeked through his fingers — when scared or hesitant
head movements:
he nodded slowly — in understanding or agreement
he shook his head — in disagreement or disbelief
he tilted his head — playfully or teasingly
he bowed his head slightly — in respect or submission
he tossed his head back — in confidence or defiance
he ducked his head — in embarrassment or shyness
he rested his chin in his hand — while thinking or bored
he jerked his head toward a sound — in alertness
he rolled his neck — to release tension
he tipped his chin up — in defiance or arrogance
hand movements:
he clenched his fists — in anger or determination
he ran his hands through his hair — in frustration or stress
he wringed his hands — in nervousness
he drummed his fingers on a surface — in impatience
he pointed — accusingly or demandingly
he pressed his palms against a surface — in desperation
he tugged at his sleeves or hem — in nervousness
he threw his hands up — in exasperation or surrender
he rubbed his temples — in frustration or exhaustion
he covered his mouth — in shock or horror
arm and shoulder movements:
he crossed his arms — in defensiveness or annoyance
he wrapped his arms around himself — for comfort
he shrugged — in uncertainty or indifference
he threw his arms out — in excitement or exasperation
he linked arms with her — for comfort or closeness
he rubbed his arms — to self-soothe or ward off cold
he flailed his arms wildly — in panic or excitement
he stretched his arms above his head — in relaxation or boredom
he held his arms behind his back — in restraint or formality
he used exaggerated arm gestures — when talking passionately
leg and foot movements:
he tapped his foot — impatiently
he crossed his legs — to appear closed off or comfortable
he bounced his knee — in nervousness or excitement
he kicked at the ground — absentmindedly
he shuffled his feet — in hesitation or guilt
he stood on his tiptoes — to see something or seem taller
he turned his toes inward — in insecurity or shyness
he stomped his foot — in frustration or excitement
he swung his legs — in a carefree manner
he stepped back instinctively — in fear or uncertainty
posture and general movement:
he stood tall with his shoulders squared — in confidence
he slouched — in defeat or boredom
he leaned in — engaged or interested
he leaned away — in discomfort or disinterest
he puffed out his chest — in arrogance or bravado
he shrunk into himself — in anxiety or fear
he rocked back and forth — in nervousness or impatience
he swiveled his body away slightly — in disengagement
he walked stiffly — in discomfort or tension
her hips swayed confidently while she walked
microexpressions:
a smile briefly flickered across his face
his eye twitched a single time — in irritation
he swallowed hard — when nervous or emotional
he slightly shuddered — in disgust or fear
he bit the inside of his cheek — in thought or frustration
he quickly inhaled — taken aback
he exhaled shakily after holding his breath too long
he clutched his shirt tightly — in anxiety
he tilted his head down slightly while still looking up (puppy dog eyes)
there was a fleeting look of longing in his eyes before he looked away
twenty phrases for writing facial expressions
his brows knitted together
her lips pulled into a smile
the corners of her lips quirked up into a smile/smirk
her face twitched
a line formed between his brows
a look of happiness engulfed him
a look of sadness washed over him
his face contorted into a frown
his eyes drooped at that, and his lips pulled themselves into a frown
she raised a brow
she cocked an eyebrow
her brows furrowed
her eyes narrowed
her eyebrows shot up
his brows were tightly drawn together
alternatively, his brows were drawn together tightly
her entire face dropped
her smile fell
his eyes glittered with [any emotion]
his eyebrows pinched together
the types of laughs and smiles
smirked — teasing, playful, snarky. usually, one side of the person’s mouth is slightly upturned.
smiled — a smile, both sides of the person’s mouth turn up and it can be slight or extreme.
laughed — a general laugh. usually in response to something funny or outlandish, can be dry, loud, kind of quiet, or hearty.
chuckled — laughter’s quiet cousin. usually more subtle than a laugh and can be the suppression of a laugh, like someone was starting to laugh but decided against it.
howled — a loud, intense and higher pitched version of laughter. think doubling over, hands on knees kind of laugh. like a wolf, if you will
convulsed/convulsing with laughter — the person’s body is shaking or moving a lot due to laughter, maybe their arms are moving, they’re bent over, i don’t know whatever you want
beamed — a more strong, noticeable smile, usually wide and cheerful. think your crush just asked you out kinda deal
Since it's November 1...thought I would reblog this :D
Hello!
Do you enjoy writing? What about talking with other writers? Are you looking for someone to read through your work, help out where they can? How about participate in world building exercises and character building prompts?
Well, I might have just the place for you.
Consider joining The Writing Desk. It's an 18+ writing discord server that will hopefully help you and others find people to cheer them on while working towards your goals.
Whether you write fanfiction, historical romance, medieval fantasy, nonfiction works, or academic papers you should be able to find your place here.
The server itself has sort of a dark academia aesthetic. We have four 'dorms' that might have something to do with points later on. They are:
• Gargoyle • Harpy • Unicorn • Wyvern
Some things included in the server are things like:
• Sprinting (both shorter and longer ones) • NSFW channel that is OPT-IN ONLY • A place for resources • Some non-writing channels for fun :)
There might be some events at times! Though you don't have to participate in those.
If this sounds good to you, The Writing Desk is here for you. Just follow the link. :)
Hello!
Do you enjoy writing? What about talking with other writers? Are you looking for someone to read through your work, help out where they can? How about participate in world building exercises and character building prompts?
Well, I might have just the place for you.
Consider joining The Writing Desk. It's an 18+ writing discord server that will hopefully help you and others find people to cheer them on while working towards your goals.
Whether you write fanfiction, historical romance, medieval fantasy, nonfiction works, or academic papers you should be able to find your place here.
The server itself has sort of a dark academia aesthetic. We have four 'dorms' that might have something to do with points later on. They are:
• Gargoyle • Harpy • Unicorn • Wyvern
Some things included in the server are things like:
• Sprinting (both shorter and longer ones) • NSFW channel that is OPT-IN ONLY • A place for resources • Some non-writing channels for fun :)
There might be some events at times! Though you don't have to participate in those.
If this sounds good to you, The Writing Desk is here for you. Just follow the link. :)
WRITE IT ANYWAY!!! EVEN IF YOU DONT THINK YOURE GOOD ENOUGH!!! WRITE!!! IT!!!! ANYWAY!!!!!!!
being a writer leads to a genuinely helpful but also very stupid kind of mindfulness where you'll be having a sobbing breakdown or the worst anxiety attack of your life and think "okay, I really need to pay attention to how this feels. so I can incorporate it into my fanfiction."
GET YOUR BOOP ON, BABY
BOOPING IS BACK
Are you serious, nanowrimo?
"You're"?? 🤨
I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you’re able to write loads & make lots of progress <3
"should autism exist in my fantasy story?" yes. "should psychosis exist in my fantasy story?" yes. "should personality disorders exist in my fantasy story?" yes. "should ADHD exist in my fantasy story? should intellectual disabilities exist in my fantasy story? should dissociative disorders exist in my fantasy story? should trauma disorders exist in my fantasy story? should anxiety disorders exist in my fantasy story? should mood disorders exist in my fantasy story? should--"
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
you don't have to include their real actual names and you don't have to have main characters with every single one of these things. But neurodivergent and mentally ill people should EXIST in fantasy stories and fantasy societies, because we exist in real life. We deserve to be acknowledged.
THEPROCRASTINATINGNOVEL -- A Writerblr intro
This blog used to be something else, but I recently deleted everything and turned it into my writerblr! So, yayyy!
« About Me »
Howdy! I'm Alex, I am 18 years old, and I've been writing since I was 10. I started this Writerblr to track my progress to hopefully motivate myself to actually finish one of my many, many wips.
I mostly write fantasy, but I'd like to try writing a wide range of genres. I used to read a LOT. I still read, but I'm getting myself back into the habit of reading more.
Bi, She/They. I’m a Leo and INTP. Im a very shut in person and don’t get the chance to leave my house very often.
Interests;
🌵 Anime & Manga
🌵 Video games
🌵 Reading & Writing ofc
🌵 Pedro Pascal ♡
« Writerblr Stuff »
I have a bad habit of spending hours daydreaming about my wips and obsessing over details and planning, and by the time I have the motivation to write, no words come to mind. It is very frustrating, but I can sometimes combat this by switching from typing to writing on paper to force the words out.
♡*ﾟMy current wip is an unnamed novel series that I have been planning for a year and a half. The first draft is being written right now, so a lot is still up in the air. So far, it's a collection of snippets over various docs, notion pages, and journals that I'm wrangling into a book. It has magic, gods, and a super hot witch-warrior who goes by Percival. Also my son, Alden. We love Alden.
I plan to post weekly writing updates, showcasing progress or where I'm currently at. These updates should come every Saturday at the end of each week, if you wish to follow my journey :)
✩ POV: 3rd person Omniscient is my usual writing style for any wip
« Goals »
➸ To have the first draft of my wip completed by the end of the year. If not, I wish to at least have a good chunk of it done. Hopefully life doesn't get in the way too much
➸ To meet and make friends with other writerblr's. Don't be afraid to come talk to me!!
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───
ʚ Message me or go to my inbox to be friends or just to talk to me :D ɞ
Writing commissions
commissions are open for awhile Hii this is my first time opening commissions so i am sorry if i get confuse a lot but hey its worth a try. info down in my carrd and deviant art https://writingcomssss.carrd.co https://www.deviantart.com/9yroldarmy/commission/writing-comissions-1598128
I know the story of Icarus is supposed to be a cautionary tale about the dangers of getting ahead of yourself...
But has anyone thought about whether Icarus intended to fall? What if when he flew high above, out of the awful labyrinth that had entrapped him and his father all this time, he finally felt free in the endless sky with the ocean under him? What if he looked beyond and saw a city on the horizon and while his father flying beside him shouts that it is safe haven, that they have found a place to land, all Icarus could see was another maze, with its walls and paths and crossroads. Only this one seemed to have more people caught in it. What if he looked at it all and refused to be one of them, refused to live the rest of his life in another labyrinth after just escaping one. What if the sun wasn't his doom but the bright burning possibility of freedom.
You must understand, I'm not saying he definitely wanted to fall. But maybe he never wanted to stop flying. Maybe he never wanted to be parted from the sky and sea. Maybe he just wanted to be free.
To anyone who was born in one country and grew up in another,
Does it feel weird to you too when you recite the national anthem of a country that you know will never consider you their own even though they're all you've ever known? Did you also have to force a different accent onto your tongue so people would stop looking at you when you spoke with that face that meant they weren't listening to what you said, only the way you said it? Did you dread bringing a copy of your birth certificate to school and try to slip it onto the teachers desk before anyone noticed or saw as if you were passing confidential information? Did you try to be more of this or less of that so you would look like something that belonged? Have you also been a guest that overstayed your whole life in a country you call home?
‘😂😂’ Right on the money with that one!!
Struggling to live in the world we made for ourselves, for each other! For we never made this world in the image of kindness. We never cemented these bricks with the intention to shelter one another.
We only wished to trap each other.
We built this world on lies to make it a climb for power. We slip poison into each others cups. We did not fall to the hand of an enemy, we fell subject to not being able to trust anybody at all to do the right thing, not even ourselves.
We made a world where only the strong prevail, and each day, we weaken each other in the lust for menial things.
We are the predator. With jeering claws, horrible fangs, and horrifiying speed. We pin down the most helpless of prey, tearing through its unloveable flesh and grinning the heck off our snouts when blood stains our paws, and you open your maw, flashing shark-like teeth at your victim,
the last thing they'll see before death and you-- and YOU--
But moments away from clamping them dead in a saw-like manner, you notice they have the same eyes as you. Same nose. Same facial structure. Same face. Just... scared.
And in the reflection of their eyes, you can see a glimpse of your own face. You look scared too.
...Scared of yourself.
We are the prey.
Will you do it? Will you hurt yourself in hunger for something more?
I know the blood warms your paws in a masochistic way that you may enjoy. But is that because no one ever held your hands?...
You poor thing...
I'm sorry it had to be this way.
fanfic writers are so fucking awesome man. they write novel length fics that are sometimes even better than some published bestselling books written by professional writers. like fanfic writers are professional writers to me and they gift us their masterpieces for free. they give us something we can look forward to after a long day. something from which we can seek comfort when life is hard. something that can be our own little getaway. in a world of capitalism, despite everything, they give us all of these for free. like holy fuck. shout out to every fanfic writer. I wish all fanfic writers a very ‘I love you with all my heart and soul. I thank you from the bottom of my heart’
no time spent writing fanfic is ever wasted
Truly love
My phone don’t ring but everybody loves me.
When I’m distant, all I hear I’m moving funny.
Questioning my silence but my body language speaks loudly.
If you loved me you would see that my mind is cloudy.
That my eyes is forecast for rain but I’m forcing delays.
That my energy is off it’s relay.
That my demons are having a field day.
I can’t shake the thoughts I’m having these days but I aspect someone who loves me to detect.
Sometimes you have to detach to reattach.
Isolate to medicate but no one understands that.
They want you to shine through all your darkness.
Evaluate them while you’re deteriorating on the inside but they love you.
How could you love me and not sense my imbalance.
Maybe it’s the mask I’m wearing but I thought love can conquer all.
Why couldn’t your love slip through the cracks?
Have a flanking attack or is that to much to ask?
Maybe you don’t truly love me.
Black Man
I’m black but also human.
I’m a man but I also have emotions.
Can’t show no fear but I’m freighted.
A bullet can come my way, from a cop or op that looks just like me.
Deep down, I struggle with that notion.
I want to see everyone grow.
Be the best that they can be but we fight these burdens of everyday life.
It’s layered on top of us.
Layers that prevents us from seeing our true self.
They say we’re hiding but we’re buried.
Suffocating, gasping for air but no one hears.
Or do they even care cause we’re men that are black and the odds are always stacked.


I saw the tv glow and turned it’s brightness up.
I was happy to see that other people’s tv’s also glowed, but I noticed that my tv was a different shade than theirs. Soon after that, I noticed that my tv was a completely different colour. It was a deep green, turning into white, turning into grey, turning into black.
I turned the brightness of the tv down, but left it just enough to always play in the background, like a little song in the back of my brain that I can’t remember the words of.
I never saw a person whose tv had the same colour as mine and it made me feel like no one would appreciate it. It was quite an interesting colour; I did plenty of research on it, but the people who did have their tv that colour never really got to be a real part of society.
I turned the brightness up again this year—not by a lot, just a bit to make out the colours—and while looking at it, I realised something. If I were to let my tv glow, it would mean never truly feeling a part of this world.
Love was such a big part of a person’s life. So why didn’t I feel any of it? I loved my friends, I loved my family, I loved my pets. Why wasn’t I cable of loving on another level? Why didn’t romance strike me as this beautiful thing rather than this tedious chore? I wanted to rip my heart out—why wasn’t it feeling things like the other hearts felt them? Why didn’t it speed up at the sight of a pretty woman or handsome man? Why did it just pump my blood and not my feelings?
If I were to let my tv glow, it would mean embracing who I truly am. But I don’t know who I truly am. And I haven’t known for a really long time.
I be finding the most soul crushing, eye watering, life rethinking poetry on this app and then it has like four likes and one repost
Way of the Water
Should I start talking to y'all about my book? I'm telling y'all about the characters and the world anyways.
Mostly because I want to build a fandom now so someone can eventually draw the twins as sharpay and ryan.
Hello everyone !! A bit of creative writing here :) Writing Prompt
During my English class we had to choose an object and then write a POV text of that object. At the end of class we presented our text in front of the other students with a background music. The music I recited my text over was 'Introduction (titles)' by Danny Elfman for Edward Scissorhands.
I really enjoyed this exercise. We had to adjust our speech (tone and pace) according to the sound. We didn't train beforehand, it was interesting to go live and not really know what to expect !!
I would love to share it with you !
Obviously you won't have my tone and pace but I tried to edit it so you can interpret how it was performed with the sound !
Enjoy the reading !
********
It’s dark.
I can’t tell where I am. Yet I know exactly what surrounds me.
I can feel the cold concrete beneath me.
Hard and dirty.
Here. There is a dead bee.
There. A living spider building its web.
It’s on the lawn mower next to me.
I smell mold.
The smell of old.
I got used to it.
There is a light breeze bringing an intoxicating smell.
Gas.
I feel inebriated.
I feel light touches.
It startles me.
I don’t know what it is.
The touches move quickly.
There is a pattern.
1.
2.
3.
4.5.6
7.
8. It stops.
A silky thread touches me.
Then again with the touches.
1.
2.
3.
4.5.6
7.
8. Silky Thread.
The spider !
Where is it ?
It’s on me !
It’s making a web on me !
I feel it moving on my limb !
No !
Move !
Move from here !
It’s bright ?
It’s bright !
I can’t tell where I am.
Yet I know exactly what’s happening.
I feel something warm grabbing me and dragging me against the cold concrete.
The warmth opens me up.
There is a freezing gust entering me.
A loud SCRAAAATCH breaks through the air.
I know this sound !
It’s my turn !
It’s the seed bag being CRACKED open.
Seeds fall inside me with a comforting sound and gentle tickles.
The warmth grabs my limb firmly.
The spider ?
Where is it ?
Where is the spider ?
I don’t feel it anymore !
It’s gone !
I am pushed into the light.
My wheels face the ground then the bluest sky I have ever felt.
The sun skims my whole body.
It’s cold then warm all over again.
Cold then Warm.
And Again.
Cold.
Warm.
Cold.
There’s a CLICK!
It’s my cue.
The handle on my limb is pushed.
It’s my cue to free them all.
My cue to spin.
So I spin. And spin. And Spin
The seeds spin in the sky beautifully.
So they spin. And spin. And spin.
Finally.
I can fulfill what I was created for !
*******
Thank you for reading my work !
I hope you enjoyed it. I would love to hear what you thought about it and if you understood what my object was !
I would also say that English is not my mother tongue. Would you then excuse potential typos or weird phrasing.
Louis :)