Literature's Next Frontier


Flamingo

POETRY:

world gone wild

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

Being a trooper
In a flat universe
Up among the memories
Hurling down like yesterday

Up among the memories choosing our own telepathies
Leading by example never by chance

Stepping in a minefield
Certainly misled by half-truths

Being a trooper in a flat universe
Down among tomorrow's
44 years of hyperbole

Telepathy's sneaking in
Framing material

Trees suck their leaves back
The rain rises up into the night sky

You and I are surely over that
The blank silence withdraws

Years stuck upon years
Taking flight from the window

Surely you and I are over that
This harsh new tomorrow

Surely you and I are over that
This brave new world gone wild

Let's recant her testimony
Turn the page on chapters gone wrong
Let's revise our history

 


Posted on: January 29 2014

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POETRY:

Later, bye

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

Great are those unsung
Surfing the divided lines

They don't give up anything
They never make a mistake
You can see them in the doorway
Later bye

And when you see them
Say I said hello
And when you tell them
Everything they need to know
They won't give up anything
They made a mistake
You can see them all in the doorway

Later bye
Later bye

When I say hello
See them in the doorway
When they rev their engines
You are there
In the car window

Here than there
my home away
Later bye

She made a mistake
See them in the doorway
Later bye

 


Posted on: January 29 2014

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NON-FICTION:

The Ugly Glass Swan

by C.R.Moroney Quill-yellow

A piece of glasswork no bigger than the size of my palm. It was blue, the type of blue made for a newborn child. It was rather ugly really. I never understood why he bought it for me. But he had picked it for me, so I smiled and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was far better than the ugly glass swan. Yet, now, a year and more on, that swan is all that remains to remember that kiss. 

I wonder if he ever suspected that one day that silly little gift would lie broken on my bedroom floor. Charged with the crime of reminding me he wasn't all bad. Even if his taste in little glass swans was. 


Posted on: January 21 2014

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FICTION:

Wyrda (Chapter 1, a mini sequel based on the works of Christopher Paolini)

by BlackbirdFire Quill-red

Wyrda

Chapter 1

It’s been a long time

For those who haven't read the books, Firnen and Saphira are dragons.

By the slowly dying light of the flickering embers, Arya felt Firnen nuzzle her shoulder, his gently pulsing breath emitting miniature clouds of smoke into the air. She turned and smiled as he gently butted her head in a bid for attention. Arya reached out an arm and stroked his scaly muzzle, tracing the jaw lines ever so delicately, the bones covered with what looked like a thousand emeralds, all lying side by side in the comfort of each other’s sparkling arms. His long tail twitched slightly as she drew her long, slim fingers over his face, making his tail ripple like pond water. He moved forward cautiously, as though hunting, but his eyes tenderly gazed at the elf-woman all the while. She settled to rest comfortably in a little crook between his wing and his shoulder. No ordinary man could have fitted in there, so small was the gap, but Arya was a slight woman who could slip easily into the tiniest of gaps. They stayed there a while, nestled in each other’s lofty yet affectionate embrace, with neither stirring, unified in a constant stream of connection flowing back and forth between their minds. Then that communication moved further, until it became words, sufficient to say only, Small one, you should see how Eragon and Saphira fare before our arrival.

As always, Firnen, you are right.

Arya crept slowly from her comfortable position until she encountered the dry night air of the forest, and the immense heat from the red hot twigs, burning slowly as the cheek-filled flames joyously licked at the wood. Then she stood, feeling the aching in her complaining muscles all the while. She meandered over to the stream and drew a swell into a small basin which they had brought on their journey. She placed it on the banks of the trickling, lazy stream and muttered,

“Draumr Kopa.”

Slowly, as though the water in the basin was feeling the same lethargy as Firnen and herself, she saw an image stir until a dull picture lay flat on the liquids surface. There was a man with blonde, slightly curling hair and bedclothes, and a beautiful, great creature, just like Firnen, but instead of emeralds she seemed to be lathered with sparkling sapphires. They sat in a stone room, in a position not unlike the one which Arya and Firnen had just been assuming. However, there was a difference. Arya didn’t know what, but she knew there was a difference. She pondered it for a while, then dismissed the thought. Then finally, she spoke.  “Eragon?” She said, speaking softly so as not to alarm him. He looked up in surprise, then saw her face in the mirror and smiled.

“Arya. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has.” She replied. Eragon looked through the mirror, and his eyebrows began to move together in a confused expression. No, thought Arya, it wasn’t really confused; Eragon rarely pulled many particularly emotive faces nowadays, but preferred to let his eyes express his feelings. Then he spoke, and it startled her out of her daydreaming:

“Arya?”

“Yes, Eragon?”

“Where are you?” Arya gulped inwardly; this was a question she’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to answer.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you aren’t where you have been these last few times you have scryed me. Where are you?”

“Out. On a mission for the elves.” This was partly true; Arya and Firnen had been sent as a party of observers to confirm to the nervous and jumpy races that the riders were once again thriving. The last few months had been some of severe economic struggle; with Nasuada attempting to pull the entire of Alagaesia into order and the Urgals declaring war on each other, no-one wanted to risk the riders falling into collapse because of lack of proper judgement. Therefore the still peaceful races had declared that checks should be carried out of the riders training to ensure no undue problems were to arise.  The first newly trained rider had returned to the land some months previously, but one rider was not enough to hold peace, even with Arya and Firnen guarding over Ellesmera, as they had been doing for these many years. Therefore the inspections- as they were to be so called- were deemed as appropriate by all races (except the Urgals, who, all but Nar Gahzvhog’s clan had been fighting viciously amongst themselves for 10 years). But Arya had more personal reasons for wanting to visit Eragon, and so she had taken up the job of visiting him and the other riders to be.

 

But Eragon wasn’t satisfied with this answer. He looked at Arya with something bordering on suspicion, then sighed.

“I suppose I’d better leave it then; if you won’t tell me, you won’t tell me” This was one of the few things he actually knew about Arya. She nodded and smiled; a thin, slightly placed smile, but a smile all the same. All she said was;

“You’ll know in good time.”

Please note I own NONE of the rights for actually publishing a mini sequel, and all rights for the Inheritance series belong to Christopher Paolini and the publishers.


Posted on: January 18 2014

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POETRY:

a very bad actress

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

Forgiveness from an actress
sloppy delivery of lines

no ambition past the clothes-racks

mannequins are uncomfortable
when she lays down

As seen on TV she
looks like an angel
descending marble stairs

the smell of innocence lost
she clutches half the script
forever trapped in punch lines

BAD ACTRESS
PLOT LINE FILLER
WITH SLOPPY
EYES ON ANGELS

MANNEQUINS
FILL THE AIR
 
DESCENDING MELTING STAIRS
CLUTCHING HALF THE STORY

OF WHAT HAPPENS
WHEN YOU SEEK FORGIVENESS
FROM A VERY BAD ACTRESS



Posted on: January 16 2014

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POETRY:

wrong machines

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

Beast Quake
Rumbling 
Knocking down
Those standing there
Left to wander

Who could ponder
Over yonder
At the wonder
From down under
Please 

Rain faxed to wrong machines
White noise sending wishes 
Caught in the runaround

Forever waiting for the text just
Laying in bed

Pick up some tacos 
and come home

 


Posted on: January 11 2014

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POETRY:

Bad Self Talk

by William Wakefield Quill-purple


Bad self talk

Permeates the brain

Suddenly no way to contain

Gods self talk

 


Posted on: January 11 2014

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POETRY:

life

by Vivek Daga Quill-red

khushiyan h kbhi...to kbhi gham ka mousam h...,indradhanush k rangon k to sargam h zindgi....,
zindgi khuda se h ya khuda h khud..parents me yahan..tarah tarah k doston ka sangam hi to h zindgi....,
chand subaah me bhi h...,magar raat k andhere se...chandrama ki chaandni h...,khoobsurat taaron ka aasmaan h zindgi...,
ek k dukh yhadoosre k khushi ka kaaran banta h...doosron k khushi me jo khush h...uske to h har pal me zindgi...
gham ka gehra saagar h agar..,to khushaal nadiyon ki behti dhaara h...sukhi-sukhi nadiyon me...rimzhim baarish ki boondon ka saawan h zindgi...
kaanton ka teekhapan h kbi..,to masoom phoolon ka galeecha h...,bheegi si shabnam ki mehek hi to h zindgi...,
zindgi shaant h kbhi...,to kbhi toofaan h zindgi....,subah k shuruwat k taazgi me....,pyaare-pyaare panchhiyon k chehek h zindgi....
aansu bhari raat h kbi..to..to kbi rangon bhari shaam h....behta hua ye jharna h....rok lo ise...bas pal 2 pal k mehmaan h zindgi....
- Vivek Daga................^_^ :)


Posted on: January 08 2014

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FICTION:

the air feels nice as i stare at your grave..

by Reuben Marc Abrogar Quill-red

I wrote a story once.. it was about a man who had a wife, they were both rich but they couldnt have any kids and so they went for a check up but after the check up they saw that his wife was impotent and possess a malignant cancer. one night when they were both eating the wife cried and cursed saying that there is no such thing as hope and that she would die, the man said that they can still adopt for a child
when they were in the adoption, they saw a little girl who was 2 years old and they saw that this girl was not like the others, she was jolly, energetic and very positive, that was why they decided to adopt the girl.. 
the man's wife was satisfied being able to love, cherish, take care of someone whom she called her own... then after 4 years of struggling, the woman died and the man was left alone with her little girl, he cursed his life, ruined it and every day was the same. but something changed him, when he looked at his daughter, he sees a smile full of hope, she became the center of his life..
after a few months had passed, the mans bday was coming near and when he went home, he saw his adopted daughter asleep on the table . and when he looked at her he saw a card, the card stated. to the best dad ever, happy birthday. tears formed in the man and instead of waking her up, he went directly to his room and rested 
next morning, the girl went to his father with joyous attitude, then she showed her father what she was working out and his father pretended that he did not know about any card and that he was surprised. he promised that this night he will go out with her in an expensive restaurant
the night came quickly and he saw himself getting inside the car and driving into a restaurant, before they arrived, her daughter asked her a complete random favor, the favor was for him to smile no matter what happens because she doesnt want her daddy to be sad, He promised that to his little girl.
when they were in the restaurant, he ordered a lot of dishes that were favored by her daughter, they had a fun dinner talking about how was school
then out of the blue, the man asked her daughter if she could get 2 glasses of water and the girl politely agreed
when the girl was about to return to his father with the glasses of water,she suddenly fainted and the man was shocked to see his daughter at the ground and so he rushed near her, he was being covered by fear now and he rushed her into a near hospital
there they found out that the girl had leukimia and she had to undergo kemo therapy.. the man agreed and told the doctors to do what they can do
2 years had passed and the man finds himself bankrupt due to the therapy of his daughter, he said : at least she was getting her therapy even. though he could sense her daughter growing weaker and weaker. 
one starry evening, he went home from work and her daughter greeted her with a smile, but before she could even reach the door, she collapsed and had to be rushed in the hospital again. now the hospital asked the man to leave his daughter confined and all he could do was agree
then 2 weeks came after, it was the worst 2 weeks of his life and he was only happy when he was with her daughter and so on his 14th visit, as he was about to leave, her daughter asked him to come close to him and so he did.. the daughter asked "dad do you remember what i asked you?" his father answered yes.. then her daughter whispered again saying "Dad please smile for me" and so he did.. but her last question was what made his father hug her tight, she stated.. "dad mom is here.. she said she is picking me up.. and that i dont have to be in pain anymore.. dad i love you so much but i hate to say it.. this is good bye" his father cried and pleaded that she shouldnt leave him but it was already too late.. her eyes were already closed and her breathing stopped, and her body grew heavy in his arms., as he called the doctor
after his adopted child was buried beside her wife, the man visited a couple of times and he then left with this message.. the air feels nice as i stare at your grave.. you wanted me to smile at harsh problems and so i will, may you rest in peace. and he left with tears in his eyes


Posted on: January 04 2014

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POETRY:

Flying a Sign

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

If I'm lying
I'm flying a sign

I'll file you under
Ex

you and your
loose nukes

running amok
in preshrunk neighborhoods

 


Posted on: January 01 2014

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FICTION:

The Prince and the Theif

by Jerrico Draceling Quill-red

Chapter one
The eagle and the cat

A young prince ran out of the back door of the large castle in Yukaria, the capital of the Eagle Kingdom. A black hooded cape decorated his body, the hood was up to cover his face, and thusly no one would recognize him and his eagle wings.

                The prince ran off the castle grounds, avoiding all the guards that marched around the courtyard. When he out of the castle gates a large forest was stretched in front of him, the prince stared in awe at the sight of trees and a blue sky that he only got to see from his bedroom window. The prince never got too see the town that his parents owned, he was slightly surprised when there wasn’t many people around the town, only a few here and there. The young prince looked around to see if there was anything to do. He had a small pouch tied to his belt-loop that jingled with gold as he walked. He saw a booth with another half-animal sitting and waiting for someone to play the game he had set up.

                This villager made the prince think of a traveler; he wore a white shirt that you tied up from the chest to the nape of your neck, and he had red pants that looked awfully dirty. His red hair was slightly messy with a red hat sitting on the top of his head, and red-brow cat ears lying flat against his head, showing his boredom. The prince could see his brown tail with red spots flicking from the boredom.

                The cat’s attention was directed to the staring prince.

“Would you like to play a game?” The cat’s grin sent shivers down the eagle’s spine

“What is this game?” The prince inquired, walking up to the cat.

The cat pulled out three cards from a deck on the booth, flipping the cards to reveal a three of spades, two of hearts and a queen.

“It’s easy,” The man grinned that smile once again, “I mix up these three cards, keep your eye on the queen, and if you point to the queen, then you win. But a bet must be placed first.”

The boy reached into his small pouch and removed three gold coins, setting it on the booth. The cat reached into his own pocket, pulling out a few coins of his own and placing it with the coins, pulling to the side of the booth. The cat returned to the cards, flipping them all over slowly.

“Keep an eye on the queen.” The man prompted, shifting the cards.

The prince watched the queen card intently as the cat stopped shifting the cards. The prince pointed to the middle card, the cat smiled lightly as he flipped over the queen card. The prince grinned, still covering his eyes with the cape’s hood.

“Do you want another go?” The cat asked. The prince nodded and set a few more coins on the cardboard.

The cat grinned, adding a few coins in the pile. The cat shifted the cards again, faster than the last time. The prince kept a close eye on the queen card, the prince’s wings shifted a little from anticipation. The cat stopped shifting the cards, and the prince pointed to the card on the left, doubting himself a small fraction. The cat turned to reveal the queen card.

“How about we raise the stakes a small bit, my prince?”  The cat shot the boy an evil grin, the boy felt like he has seen this cat somewhere, at least that toothy grin reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think of whom.

“Wait, how did you figure it out?” The prince said in shock, barley able to finish his sentence when the cat broke him off.

“Your wings are easy to see when you shift them like that.” The cat said simply.

“What are the stakes that you’re thinking of?” The prince asked, tugging off his hood to reveal his blonde hair and honey-colored eyes.

“If you win, then you get this,” The cat stared. Pulling out a golden heart locket from his pants pocket, “But If I win, I get you.”

The prince was taken aback, what did this psychopath mean when he said he would get him?

“Deal.” The prince said, hesitation in his voice.

The cat grinned, flipping the queen card back over. He tried switching the queen card with a three of hearts, but the prince’s sharp eyes caught the switch.

“Put that back.” He growled.

The cat pouted and put the queen back into place, shifting the cards quicker than the last two times. The prince lost the queen and stared staring at another card, when he realized that he was staring at the wrong card, he looked at the other two; the queen was either on the left or right. The prince stared at the cards, trying to figure out which were which. The prince gulped at pointed to the card on the right.

The cat grinned as he flipped over the two of hearts.

The prince panicked, grabbing the locket and pulling off his cape, showing his brown and white wings spread out, he wore a red outfit for most of the royal families, there was a white, button up shirt, and a red vest that tied on the top at the nape of his neck, and he wore shorts that were a dark green color. He flapped his wings roughly to start flying high into the sky. The cat growled and scaled up a building, a rope wrapped around his arms. The used the lasso to catch onto the prince’s ankle, dragging the smaller body to the top of the building. The cat wrapped the rope around the struggling prince. He looked down at the ground; guards were staring up at the two, looking like they found the actions suspicious. The cat grabbed the locket back from the smaller animal and tugged at the rope, just enough to get the kid rope burns. The prince took a breath to call for the guards below; the cat took this opportunity to gag the prince. The prince coughed, feeling pain at the corners of his mouth from how tight the gag was.

“Sorry young prince, but I can’t lose a catch like you.” The cat whispered in the prince’s ear, a smile tugging at his lips.

The cat picked up the prince in one of his arm, throwing the prince over his shoulder and jumping from building to building until there was none to jump on, and then he jumped down to the ground and ran.

A few hours later, the cat had taking the prince to a carriage at a dirt road, the prince could still see the town’s gates when the cat set the prince a seat across from him. The cat took the gag out of the prince’s mouth, red lines formed at the edges of his mouth, and he glared at the cat.

“You look pretty uncomfortable with that rope on…” The cat thought out loud.

The cat pulled out a pocket knife from his pocket, cutting at the rope on the prince, the prince tried ignoring the rope burns that now covered his legs and hands.

“What’s your name?” The cat smiled warmly.

“Lamien,” The prince responded, not thinking about the consequences that could go with telling the psychopath his name, “what’s yours?”

“That’s an interesting name,” The cat’s eats went back and his tail’s twitching slowed down a little as he tried remembering the name, “And my name is Darix.”

Lamien started searching his memory, trying to figure out where he heard that name.

“Do you have any siblings, Lamien?” Darix asked.

“Not that I know of.” Lamien said calmly, deciding to ignore the cat.

“How old are you?” Darix asked.

Lamien was tired of questions, he just wanted to go home, he turned his head and looked outside to the moving forest that passed by. Lamien had no idea where they were heading, and no idea what was going on, but he felt slightly excited for what was going to happen, he has never been outside of the castle, and an adventure sounded pretty fun.

After a few hours, the carriage stopped. Darix got out and grabbed Lamien’s arm. The cat lead the eagle down a hole in the ground, it opened up into a large clearing with an open top to see the sky. Darix took the prince to a small cottage that seemed further off in the area.

Darix brought Lamien into the cottage, inside opened right into the kitchen, it was a small room, and to the left was a large window and a large dining table with two chairs; one on each of the shorter sides. Darix pulled out one of the chairs and guided Lamien into the seat.

“Are you hungry?” Darix asked politely.

“No.” Lamien said firmly.

“You have to be hungry after that long trip though.” Darix said, a small twinge of worry in his voice.

Lamien turned his head, staring out the glass window, planning his escape.

“Don’t even think about escaping.” Darix seemed to read the eagle’s mind as he stared making himself something to eat.

“Why not?” The prince said irritably.

“There are guards everywhere, without me, you will die if you poke a wing out of here.”

Lamien sighed and leaned against the refrigerator behind him, looking slightly beyond the kitchen to see a pitch-black room. Lamien looked back out the window, watching the colors change outside as the sun sets.

“If you get hungry I left some food in the pan over there for you.” Darix pointed his tail at the pan that sat on the stove as he got himself some food.

Lamien ignored the cat and continued staring out the window at all the colors and animals running around freely. Darix sat across the table, eating the food that he made, and looking out the window, wondering what Lamien was staring at. Lamien looked at the sky which was exploding with color. He stared in awe of the beautiful shades of orange and red.

“You can sleep in my bedroom.” The cat sniffled dramatically, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Darix shuffled over to the living room and collapsed on the couch, snoring almost immediately. Lamien rolled his eyes and continued staring out at the colors of the setting sun. The prince stretched his soar wings and folded his arms on the table, resting his head on his arms and his wings on the table, continuing to stare out the window. Before the prince knew it, he was fast asleep.

 

Darix yawned and stretched, getting up from the old couch and heading into the kitchen to see the young Lamien resting on the table, fast asleep. Darix chuckled and smiled warmly, and picked up the prince. Lamien cuddled against Darix’s chest as the cat went into his bedroom and pulled back the covers with his tail, laying Lamien down in the covers then tucking the small form into the sheets.

Darix went back to working on making breakfast for himself, when there was a knock on the door. The cat sighed and opend the door, stepping into the small room was his boss and the two body guards that tend to follow him everywhere he goes.

His boss was a large semi-bear. He had a built that made him the strongest organization leader in the eagle kingdom. One of his body guards was an alligator and the other was a hippopotamus. They both also had a strong built.

Darix moved out of the way so that they could come in.

“I heard you caught the prince.” His boss grinned.

“What you hear is true.” Darix answered

 

Lamien woke up to the sound of the door slamming and footsteps banging on the hard floor and a loud conversation staring up. He couldn’t remember when he ended up in Darix’s room. He quietly got up from the bed and opened the door just a crack to see what was going on in the living room. He saw the large bear that must be Darix’s boss and his two bodyguards, and Darix standing nervously in front of them.

“Kill him, Darix.” The boss demanded.

Darix seemed taken aback.

“No offence, sir, but I will not.” Darix said with hesitation.

“Then we will kill you.” The boss said, his bodyguards moving closer to Darix, guns pointing at the cat’s chest.

Darix’s eyes widened in shock, Lamien suddenly realized that he was floating in between the guns and Darix. The boss stared in shock, and then a grin spread on his features.

“Kill both of them.”

Lamien grabbed Darix’s arm and flew quickly out of the place, flying quick enough that the bodyguards couldn’t shoot them but slow enough so that Darix wouldn’t fall on his face.

“Don’t you remember that I told you guards were here? They will kill both of us.” Darix hissed.

“I thought you said that if I was with you we would be safe.” Lamien prompted, looking down at Darix.

“My boss probably told all the other guards that we would probably go against order and the guards will attack us.” Darix answered

“Then I’ll take the ones in the sky, you can take the ones on the ground.”

“Do you even know how to fight?”

“No,” Lamien admitted, “but I can fly pretty quickly.

Darix stared at Lamien, wondering if he could trust the younger one.

“Alright, then let go of me.”

Lamien let go of Darix’s arm and flew up high. For a while, the prince was doing a good job flying and not getting caught. Until his air was knocked out by a hit to the chest. Lamien gasped, falling a few feet, then picking up his pace, trying to get his breath back. Another owl guard popped up in front of the prince, causing to younger bird to collide with him. The other winged guard helped the owl and grabbed Lamien. The prince tried to escape by flapping his wings harder. One of the guards grabbed Lamien’s wing and pulling it roughly. Lamien screamed as he felt the muscles tear.

 

Darix heard Lamien scream, he turned from his fight, spotting the prince struggling with a couple of guards. They seemed to be slowly falling from the height every second Darix stood there and watched. The cat’s ears twitched and he panicked. The cat pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it at the fight. The guards stopped and coughed, Lamien fell from the height. Darix climbed up a tree closest to the falling bird. He jumped up and caught the weak eagle; the small prince tried struggling from the cat, but was too weak to get away from him. The prince winced in pain and passed out in Darix’s grasp, resting peacefully in Darix’s arms.

Darix grinned and escaped the base without further conflict. He ran many miles from the base to the closest town that was still far off. The cat laid the eagle down and stared prodding his side to wake him up. Lamien looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Just making sure you’re awake.” Darix sighed

Darix lay down next to Lamien, hugging the small body close to him. Lamien tried pushing the cat away, but still was too weak to do so. Darix chuckled at the prince’s failed attempts of getting the cat away from him. Lamien growled in frustration, slowly falling back asleep against Darix’s chest.

 


Posted on: December 23 2013

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POETRY:

new conquer

by alzarya Quill-red

I am conquering my life again without you…

I don’t want to leave a blank page of my sufferings

I have known tears and I have been destroyed several times

But I don’t have any regret cause I am not now away

The days beginning this new start has been difficult

Because I keep of asking myself what’s wrong with me

I am stupid or do I have too much egos…

Pffft…Again this question…I am the master of my own falling...

What’s wrong?

Should I dare follow my heart or head?

I was just in the phrase of you and me

I now it’s only me

And now this freedom of being away from you

Hmm, hmmmmm

I am enjoying it

Because the air seems nicer and even lighter without you

So, I am thanking life because away from you,

I re-discovering that’s life is marvelous with truthful friends

And that’ all I was looking for

Being needed for who I am

Nor being abused for who I am

I have been knocked down by your thoughts

But, Now I am enjoying life without your selfish thoughts on you

And not me!

 


Posted on: December 20 2013

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POETRY:

Bob's Creepy Mustache

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

Bob's Creepy Mustache
Really freaks her out 

She imagines him
Kissing her coworker

They went to a park
Hyperactive birds
Chirping at the mustache

Branch to branch
It's Barerly there
He's trying 
To grow it out

Bobs creepy mustache
Really caused a 
Drama 
It set off alarms

 


Posted on: December 19 2013

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POETRY:

Draining the Sun

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

You lost yourself in the process
Of becoming you

They never said it would hurt
They never said it was true

We became one
Draining the fun

You lost yourself in the infinite process
Of draining sunlight

Feeding the fields that make the face of the sun

The towers of flame make it a sunlight face

Across the way the cold
Wind blows with his songs that it tells the world

It puts the memories in a basket

Of leaves that blow away

The towers of sunlight dreaming electricity through solar centuries

Freezing we turn away

Shivering with anticipation

Mmmmm
We become one
Draining the Sun

 


Posted on: December 19 2013

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POETRY:

A Soldier

by The Child Quill-orange

To make strong the weak

To uphold justice

To mend the broken

To stand strong in the face of adversity

To fight for all these things, a Soldier

 

To bring justice to the wicked

To right the wrong

To pave the way for good

To fight when all seems lost

To fight for all these things, a Soldier

 

To fight for the innocent

To uphold a nation

To protect us

To stay hopeful

To fight for all these things, a Soldier

 

To pave the front lines with blood

To find a comrade amidst the chaos

To hold back tears of sadness and continue fighting

To look upon the horrors of war and continue their resolve

To die for all these things, a Soldier

 

To pay tribute to their sacrifice

To look upon the fallen and grieve

To find the light of war and extinguish it

To remember the Soldier

To do these things, a Citizen


Posted on: December 19 2013

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FICTION:

The prince's protector

by Jerrico Draceling Quill-red

            You remember the kid in the back of the classroom who would always read or do what they are supposed to do? The person who always stuttered? The person who never had any friends? Well, I’m one of those people. I had no friends, all I did was read all day in the back of the class room, rarely would I sit up front, depending on the voice the teacher had. One day, all of that changed.

            I was leaving school, walking home, thinking about what school work I need to do. At least I lived alone so no one bugged me about being late.

            I was about five miles away from home when it seemed the sun was shadowed by something. I looked up, it was a clear sky.

            “Hello.” There was a deep voice behind me, I turned to see a large figure wearing a jacket with the hood up, I tried running away, but he grabbed my arms, I screamed. He tried shushing me, but I continued screaming, he covered my mouth with his large hand.

            “I’m not going to hurt you.” He hissed in my ear, my muffled scream got louder, and I tried biting his hand, “Please, trust me.”

            It sounded like he was telling the truth, but I wasn’t even going to trust him. He started pushing me towards an ally.

            ‘This is it’ I thought, ‘He’s going to kill me.’ These thoughts made me struggle even more.

            The man chuckled.

            “I won’t kill you.” He said.

            Now he can hear my thoughts…

            “I’m Dreace Glang.” He said, pulling his hand away from my mouth as he turned me. He pulled down his hood, revealing a kind face and short orange hair, freckles dance across the bridge of his nose. Something shifted on the top of his head. Furry ears… Fox ears? I looked at the ears in awe. He chuckled, a furry fox tail stretching its way out of the bottom of his cloak.

            “Will you come with me, Glara Trimp?” He asked, putting his hands on my shoulders.

            How did he know my name? I wondered, nodding my head without thinking much about his question. Dreace grinned, grabbing my hand and heading through the brick wall of the alleyway. Where did this portal come from? I looked around; the plaza was crowded with animal-looking people. Pigs, rabbits, cats, dogs, you name it. Some of the anthropomorphic creacher’s looked at us, some of their draws dropped, some of them looked curious. I looked at Dreace, he threw off his jacket, showing a purple outfit fit for royalty, and he pointed at the group of animals staring at us.

“You there, go get the Queen!” He grinned, they nodded and off they went.

“Q-Queen?” I gulped.

“The queen is my mother.” He grinned, looking down at me. I stared away, what was going on here?

A few hours later, a carriage arrived, Dreace guided me to the cart, opening the door and holding his hand out to assist me in the cart. I got in and the inside was covered in felt and wood. I grinned at the marvel, he followed me close behind. The cart started moving, the beginning almost made me fall over , but Dreace cached me before I fell to the floor.

“How did you know my name?” I asked him hesitantly.

“I have been stalking you for many years!” He said boldly, his tail wagging happily. I looked at him, confused at what he meant, and scared

“Wait, what?” I said, fear in my voice, yup I’m dead.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you sense you were young.” He blushed, looking in his lap, “You are very pretty.” He grinning a childish grin.

“Thanks I guess.” I said, still confused.

I looked out the window, a large castle coming into view. This must be were the Queen and Dreace must live.

            A few hours later, a carriage arrived, Dreace guided me to the cart, opening the door and holding his hand out to assist me in the cart. I got in and the inside was covered in felt and wood. I grinned at the marvel, he followed me close behind. The cart started moving, the beginning almost made me fall over , but Dreace cached me before I fell to the floor.

“How did you know my name?” I asked him hesitantly.

“I have been stalking you for many years!” He said boldly, his tail wagging happily. I looked at him, confused at what he meant, and scared

“Wait, what?” I said, fear in my voice, yup I’m dead.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you sense you were young.” He blushed, looking in his lap, “You are very pretty.” He grinning a childish grin.

“Thanks I guess.” I said, still confused.

I looked out the window, a large castle coming into view. This must be were the Queen and Dreace must live.

            Dreace got out, holding his hand out to help me out of the carriage. I accepted the kind offer and calmly got out of the carriage, following Dreace into the castle. Another kind face was all I saw when I entered the castle. Dreace explained that his mother was a blue wolf, her hair was a beautiful shade of navy blue, her ears were the same color, and her tail was a silver color.

I looked up, the next thing I knew was that I was sitting at the dinner table and staring at a large, delicious stake. Dreace looked at me.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked

“I’m starving!” I said, grinning at the fox. He laughed lightly as I stared chowing down on the food, his mother joined him in laughing.

I looked up at his mother; she seemed to be waiting to ask me something. I looked at her, whipping my face off with a napkin.

“Would you be willing to marry my son?” She asked, a sly grin appearing on her face, I almost choked on the piece of stake I was chewing.

“I barely know him.” I coughed, trying to get her to change her mind.

“Of course I’ll give you time to get to know him.” She smiled sweetly, “I won’t force you into anything.”

I looked at Dreace.

“You would have to give me time to think about it, and get to know him.” I said, slightly dozed off, thinking about what the Queen said.

In the morning, Dreace brought me some breakfast, a pancake with some butter on it with a collection of syrups on the side. I chuckled, grabbing the warm maple and pouring it softly over the pancakes.

“I’m glad you took that one, it was burning my fingers.” He chuckled, I nodded, taking the tray from him.

“Are you just doing this because of my decision of marrying you, or out of kindness?” I asked him, taking a bite of the pancakes.

“I do this for all the guests when they stay their first night here, even the prisoners downstairs!” he said defensively.

“Wait, there are prisoners downstairs?” I choked.

“Yeah, but it’s rare when they have to be locked up there.”

I sighed lightly at that comment, hopeful that none are down there right now.

“Do you want to see the garden?” He offered.

I nodded enthusiastically, gulping down a large chunk of pancake. He took the tray and took my hand, heading out the room. He ordered the guards to take the tray to the kitchen to get washed.

He guided me outside to a beautiful garden. Outside the castle doors, two figures stood in front of us, Dreace protectively moved in front of me, but the figures pushed him away and grabbed me, putting me in a large sack, and quickly jumping off.

 

A few hours later I looked around, realizing I was still in the sack, roughly getting thrown on a hard ground. Someone finally removed me from the sack and I was greeted by a rough face. They looked like a Raccoon, with the ears, grey-like skin and a mask around his eyes. I tried getting away from him, just to hit my head on a stone wall behind me. The area was dimly lit, so it was hard to see. Another animal, cat I think, walked up, a silly grin on his face.

“Hello, love!” He said, he had a British accent.

His black hair was short, and he had white tiffs at the ends of his ears, and a shorter tail with a splash of white on it.

He grabbed my hand and helped me up.

“You may leave now, Richard.” He said to the Raccoon, he nodded, giving me a suspicious look, and leaving the dimly lit area.

“He wanted to kill you.” He cat said, whispering in my ear.

“I am Alastair by the way.” He laughed.

“Where am I?” Was all I could say, staring at the black cat.

“You are at a secret hideout, cool, right?” He grinned, “Might I ask, what is your name.”

“I am Glara.” I said, “And I have to get out of here.”

I said, panicking slightly.

“Well, I’ll get you out of here.” Alastair said, grabbing my arm and dashing out of the dark corridor.

There were footsteps further ahead. Alistair pulled me down a lighter pathway; there were cobwebs to show how unused the path was. We reached the outside world; the sun was bright and stung my eyes slightly. Alastair dragged me to an awaiting carriage.

“I figured you wanted to leave as soon as you got to, it’s the same thing every time someone gets captured.” He grinned.

He jumped into the carriage with me. We chatted for a little while, talking about nonsense. When we arrived at a town, the carriage stopped outside an inn.

“We will rest here for the night, we will continue traveling tomorrow.” He said with a small grin. I nodded.

When we entered the inn, Alistair had only enough money to get a room, at least the room had two beds.

In the morning, we had to continue our journey on foot; we woke up too late and missed the carriage ride.

“So, how did you get here, I have not seen too many humans around these parts.” He asked, looking down to me.

“Dreace dragged me here.” I chuckled.

“That rude prince Dreace, is that the same one?” He asked.

“The prince who took me is very kind.” I said, looking at Alistair.

“That’s because he has you under his spell,” Alistair started, “He will catch you in his web, then slowly eat you.”

I looked down at my feet, continuing to walk next to Alistair. Alistair rested his hand on my shoulder.

“Do not worry about anything.” He grinned, “Just, leave this world as soon as possible.” His cat ears suddenly perked in alert.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“He’s coming.” Was all Alistair could say before he grabbed my arm and ran into the deep woods.

I was having a hard time keeping up with him; his black tail was fluffed up in alarm.

“Alistair, you’re going to fast!” I gasped, tripping over rocks and large tree limbs.

“I can fix that!” Alistair laughed.

Alistair pulled my arm, making me jump up a little from the speed, and soon I was cradled in his arms as he ran quickly through the forest. He made a sharp turn, hiding behind a tree. Alistair was grinning madly, seeming to be rocking on the balls of his feet.

“What’s going on?” I whispered up at him.

“The prince’s guards are looking for you.” He grinned, “What an adventure we stumbled into!”

I sighed, Alistair is so strange. I looked up at the canopy of trees above us, only a few rays of sunlight peered their way out of the dense covering. Alistair sniffed at the air.

“I think that they are gone and we are safe for landing.” He grinned at me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, confused.

“It means it’s safe for us to continue the journey, only one thing is missing,” He said, looking at me, his grin disappearing lightly, “I have no idea where the road went.”

“So we are lost, in the woods?” I said, looking up at him, this is how most horror stories start out.

“Well there is good news,” He said, “There is nothing dangerous in these woods, except an evil dragon.”

I gave Alistair an angry look, what is going on in this world?

Alistair and I continued walking through the forest, a screeching roar making birds fly out of the trees in alarm. Alistair set me down on the hard ground. We looked around in alarm. A large shape appeared before us, just like in the fables the beast had large scales, large enough to make clothes for a normal human being, and the beast had large wings that flattened the trees within a heartbeat and left a large clearing. We stared at the beast.

“I didn’t think that it was true, I was just trying to scare you.” Alistair chuckled lightly, looking at me with slight confusion in his eyes.

“You are so stupid!” I growled in anger.

Alistair gave me an apologetic look, the dragon took a pace closer, his large claws making a ringing thump sound.

“Time to run!” Alistair said, picking me up and dashing under the beast’s belly.

The dragon looked completely confused and looked under his belly, watching Alistair run off with me. We finally reached the edge of the forest, not being followed by the nasty dragon. We laughed as we reached the city that I recently started residing in.

“Glara, there you are!” I heard and excited gasp.

I turned to see Dreace and his mother. Dreace ran up and gave me a big hug, his mother following him, but at a walking pace, not running up to see. Dreace seemed to notice my companion.

“Alistair Chopling.” He said; spitting out Alistair’s name like it was venomous.

When Dreace pulled apart from me, he and Alistair were glaring at each other, Dreace walked up to Alistair and slapped the cat, I jolted, is this the real Dreace like Alistair was talking about? Alistair glared at the prince, putting his hand over the spot that he hit.

“Good bye Glara.” Alistair said, turning around to leave.

“Wait, Alistair!” I called after him, grabbing on the back of his shirt, he turned around, a smile spreading on his face.

“Thank you.” I grinned at him, “I would have never made it out of there without you.”

Alistair turned around; he grabbed my hand and kissed it lightly.

“Anytime, princess.” He said sweetly, turning around and leaving back into the dark forest.

 


Posted on: December 15 2013

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FICTION:

A dragon and his boy.

by Pausha Quill-red

Mists shrouded the city filing up holes, smoothing out cracks, rounding sharp angles, adding sparkle to flakes of paint pilling off of grubby walls decorated with crude graffiti. In the soft, hazy light even penises and endless conjugations of the word “fuck” seemed appealing, almost magical. Almost.

- But not quite, thought Theo as he walked past crumbling buildings that littered the outskirts of the town. With his shoulders hunched against the cold, chin tucked into the collar of his insufficient jacket and hands pushed deeply into his pockets the boy looked like a little gnome in a huff, striding through a decrepit fairyland. Small, slight, with dark unruly curls falling into big brown eyes and his face set in determination, Theo felt like a gnome, too. Not that he knew what a gnome was exactly, but the word sounded just like he felt.

An old bridge creaked comfortingly under Theo’s feet. The boy squatted down on his hunches, tested the wooden beams for wetness. They were damp from the morning dew, and cold, but Theo did not mind. His body settled itself comfortably into it’s favorite spot, legs dangling over the edge, back leaning against a railing post. Theo’s body did that nearly every morning, for as long as he could remember. The feet were well accustomed to dangling over the little river rushing down below, the head rested at the exactly right angle for the eyes to admire the sparkling, flashing spectacle of the dancing water. Theo loved water. He loved rivers, streams and brooks for their liveliness, their restless energy and their endless potential. They were never still, they would never “arrive” but always strained forward, run ahead, always, towards untold wanders and countless adventures. The rivers, brooks, streams and Theo had that in common.

- No one else would understand, Theo thought to the little river with frustration. They all would think I’m crazy if I told them of my dreams, all they care about is money, food and their stupid TV shows! Theo’s thoughts settled into a familiar configuration, just as his body did. The frustration born from being the only son of a mother who did not seem to care one whit for the contents of her son’t imagination and fussed over Theo’s homework and his dinners instead, filled the boy’s head until it was ready to burst like an overripe tomato. The frustration was made no less unendurable by a healthy dose disgust with all the lesser humans who did not recognize Theo’s greatness and dared to treat him like a child. Him! A victorious hero of one thousand quests! But, as it usually happened, when the tomato got dangerously close to bursting a flood of resignation covered it up with a wet blanket smothering away the fires of rebellion and leaving loneliness in it’s wake. And hurt. Because no one understood. Because no one would ever know that Theo was, indeed, a hero of a thousand quests. Memories of wild adventures, long journeys, brave deeds committed and blood-curdling dangers endured flashed through Theo’s mind as they did each morning for most of the nine years of his life. Yes, it all happened in his dreams, but was it any less real for all that? The thoughts run on as they always have but today, today they felt different. The loneliness did not sting as much today, the blanket of resignation was lighter and the frustration was not as frustrating. Today was different. 

*

The dragon felt a vague tingling in the tip of his tail. It’s insistency grew progressively and rapidly to the point where one eye felt compelled to crack open a bit. Just a little bit. Something was happening, thought the dragon lazily, something felt ... different...

*

The book was small. It fitted into a jacket’s pocket. It’s covers were bound in red leather, the pages smooth, creamy and blank. Theo examined it carefully, spreading the book open in his lap. The pencil was of the same red, bright and vibrant. It lied right next to the book which stood propped against the glaring face of Theo’s alarm clock this morning. It wasn’t there last night. Theo saw it as soon as he opened his eyes. He stared at the alarm clock, and then at the book, for a long while. He was surprised, mildly, by how thoroughly unsurprised he felt by the book’s sudden appearance. And the pencil’s. That was the first time he felt that something was different. The book felt good somewhat, comforting, lying there in his lap. The boy stroke the shiny red cover, then smooth creamy page. 

- Feels almost like petting a cat, he thought absently as his fingers gripped the pencil and guided it towards the paper. The last night’s dream, having faded away since the boy woke up, presented itself suddenly, as clear and vivid as it was in the night. Theo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, looked thoughtfully at the blank page before him. Then he begun to write:

The dragon slept in a cave high up in the mountains, so high up that he could only see the sky outside of the cave’s door, and the tops of pine trees. He was very humongous, the dragon, his eyes were made of fire, and they were as big as uncle Tom’s truck tires, and he had those paws, all gnarly and knobby, with huge claws, all coopery and shiny with sharp tips. And he had horns on his head...

*

The vast pool of molten gold the size of your average mack truck tire (otherwise known as the dragon’s eye) opened a bit more, just enough to flash a look that went perfectly well with the “and it’s about time!” thought. The dragon was fond of looks. “One look worth a thousand words” was his motto. The eyelid lifted by a few more inches, just enough to admit a semi-full view of a jagged cave’s mouth filled with blue sky grazed by the tops of pine tress drawn clearly against the ... drawn clearly ... clearly! The thought, though fuzzy and sluggish, managed to attract the Dragon’s attention. The eye snapped open all the way, the other one followed suit. Drawn clearly! Clearly! A horny, scaly paw full of sharp, gnarled angles, bumps and hollows moved into it’s field of vision. Coppery talons glowed dimly, their pointy tips scratching furrows in a gravel covering the cave’s floor. A gravel, comprised of small rocks. Small, yet clearly drawn one against another! And the scales cascading up his arm - each edged with golden line, thin, vicious, cutting!

The dragon raised his head, shook it from side to side, winced as a horn caught against the low roof of the cave, opened his maw and roared with delight.

At last! He was visible, clear, sharp, At last! After years of drifting through dreams, through blobs of shadows, lights and colors all blurry, indistinct, unidentified, undescribed. After countless months passed in half-lethargy, allowed to be no more than a figment of an imagination, after weeks - endless weeks of whispering into an ear of the sleeper when he should have been roaring in a broad daylight for all the world to hear, after days of ... oh, who cares about some stupid days! thought the dragon exultantly as he walked to the edge (clearly drawn edge!) of the cave, spread his dark brassy wings (clearly visible wings!) and took to the sky (bright, blue, crispy sky!).

*

“The dragon was all covered with golden scales and when he spread his wings they were as large as our backyard, dark brown and shiny” wrote Theo. It was late morning now, the raising sun burned the mists away revealing the scene in all it’s near-industrial ugliness. A not-so-distant factory of some sort or another, random concrete structures crumbling into unsightly heaps, rubbish strewn generously, and more or less evenly, over the thin, struggling grass, some bushes giving out the scent of stale bear and things better left unnamed. Hardly a magical spot, this. But not for Theo. Sitting on the old, wooden bridge, bent over his book, the little boy scribbled furiously unaware of a cramped back and stiff fingers. The adventures he dreamed of, his need and drive and longing for a splendid life poured out of him and onto paper washing away the frustration and loneliness, and it seemed to Theo that as his dreams filled the creamy pages they spilled over into the world around him and filled it with magic. The grass thickened, the river deepened, the flowers grew brighter and the trash grew dimmer. Concrete walls stretched and flew into the shapes of castles and towers, the sky turned bluer and the sun shone more golden. The air fairly crackled with magic while the boy wrote, bowing over his little book:

Every morning the dragon would wake up and roar to the sky to let everyone know that he was the coolest dragon ever. Then he would fly out of his cave and down the mountain, over pine forests and fields and cities, and then he would circle down in huge spirals and fly right over the town. But no one would ever see him, because it would be very early and there would be mists everywhere. Then the dragon would land right on top of the bridge, and the bridge would creak something terrible but it would never break, and the dragon would lie his head down so that I could climb onto his back. Then he would take of and we would fly far, far away. One time we went to this ...

*

Boy but it took the kid some time! thought the dragon, almost wryly. The uncharitable thought was chased away at once, being chastised as it went. He did like the little gnome after all, so full of spirit and passion, so eager for rumblings, gallivants and all manner of adventures. Truly a human after the dragon’s own heart! Didn’t they have splendid times together, even if only in the foggy blurriness of human dreams when the boy’s eyes were closed so that his heart could open?

- Ah, but all that would change now, thought the dragon as he flew down the mountain and over the pine forests, now that the little imp has found his way into himself and found the proper words to name what he saw. The golden dragon flew over fields and cities until he spotted the town, then he begun to circle down in huge spirals until he saw a slim ribbon of a river with an old wooden bridge spanning it’s uneven banks, and the little slight form of a boy hunched over a little book, writing ...

*

... and he was the cooler dragon ever!” wrote the boy and, as he wrote, he thought he caught a flash of a distant brassy shine in a shape of a wing drawn clearly against the blue sky.

“...and we were friends for ever...” he wrote and, as he glanced up, he could have sworn he saw a flash of a sun reflecting from the sharp point of a coopery talon...

“...and the dragon’s name was Shurush” he wrote and, lifting his head, he gazed straight into a vast pool of molten gold the size of your average mack truck tire.

The pool blinked, squinted and gave him a look. One that said clearly: “and it’s about time!”

 


Posted on: December 15 2013

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FICTION:

Harvesters Unleashed chapter 1

by Tama Quill-red

Her hair was dark and thick; her eyes were a never ending sea of blue that intimidated others. Mayumi stood slouched, arms on her hips, and her face forward. The day was peaceful, trees swayed gently in the wind with leaves embracing the warm colors of fall, but the classroom was experiencing winter. The chains on her pants wrapped around her legs, hanging tightly too afraid to let go. Mayumi stood still as she gazed deeply into her teachers eyes, hoping to form intimidation to get her out of detention. So far her effort was pointless. In contrast to Mayumi's deceiving blue eyes were the warm brown eyes of her teacher. It was strange, they looked so alike it was as if someone was looking through a mirror, but their personalities were polar opposites. The woman planted deep into a chair cushion with relief.

" Mayumi, I'm sure you are aware of why you are here," her voice was stern yet a minor detection of tenderness emitted. Her voice made Mayumi quiver with disgust. Something about her teacher made her sick. Once Mayumi sensed her teacher coming she felt her body tremble. Mayumi grinned at her teachers words. In a battle Mayumi was the king, ruling others and always won an argument.

"I'm sure not here to listen to you." Mayumi always chose her words carefully as if she was constantly being tested.

"Well, it seems you got into an altercation with another student." The woman folded her hands on her desk with a strong grip.

"Look, Ms.Yuki she was in my way and she needed to move," Mayumi answered contently, her words ringing in Ms.Yuki's mind.

The sound of her voice always made a lasting impression. The golden strands on Ms.Yuki's arms stood up, producing goose bumps. Mayumi ate at her patience.

 "Ripping pieces of her hair and scratching her arm was completely uncalled for."

 Mayumi loved this. It was a game, a game of wits. Mayumi titled her head down to look at her fingers, her cuticles were painted with dried blood and she frowned. Ms. Yuki did not see it, but Mayumi was full of sadness.

She was walking down the hallway as others stared her down, ready to spit at her if they were given the chance. Pressing forward her steps sped up making her surroundings a blur. Heads started merging and doors became straight lights as she dashed. Everyone moved out of her way, except an obstacle suddenly blocked her path. With skinny legs, rounded cheeks and brown hair Asuna Toichi stood in front of her. Mayumi slowed down and she stopped directly in front of Asuna. Mayumi looked at her with both surprise and annoyance. Asuna lifted her hand and placed in on Mayumi's shoulder, her hands were soft and smelled like jasmine. Mayumi was taken back by this. Unsure what to do or think her instincts took over. In that moment Mayumi reached for Asuna's hair and pulled it. It was simple self defense. No one touches her except her family. She wasn't property.

Once Mayumi had a ball of brown hair in her right hand she yanked at it. Her force was unrecognizable. Asuna's hair was being separated from her scalp, and one by one they were ripped off. Asuna's eyes grew wide with hot tears as she screamed in agony. The pain increased. Mayumi held her hair like a ball of yarn. Mayumi did not even flinch as she said "Next time, get out of my way." She began to depart the scene, continuing on as if nothing had happened. Then Mayumi's head hit the body of marble flooring. Asuna tripped her.

As adrenaline took over Mayumi paid little attention to the pain she was in and no attention to her bleeding left ear. Hands out stretched in front of her Mayumi turned and clawed Asuna's arm. The deed was irreversible but Mayumi could still recall the event in her mind whenever she wanted to. She could reenact the feeling of her nails penetrating Asuna's arm before walking away.

"She's in the hospital now, you are lucky you were not arrested," Ms.Yuki interrupted her thoughts with a sympathy card.

Mayumi knew she was over exaggerating the incident. Hidden under her unapproachable face and past the hollow crevices of her soul Mayumi was smart. When she pulled Asuna's hair she did so in a matter of which it would cause less pain. Mayumi held back a lot of her strength but used enough. By grabbing a small section on the right side of her head it would grow back faster than on the left. When it comes to scratching her Mayumi could have scratched her on the face yet chose the arm because of its tougher skin cells and ability to heal faster. Mayumi knew that the body could only feel one pain at a time so her actions would have been less painful then having Asuna deal with her abusive boyfriend every day. Asuna was in the hospital because she needed to be. If Mayumi had not scratched her no one would have found the bruises and burn marks that lived on Asuna's arm. She would have never got the medical attention she needed. Her pain would give her realization. Asuna would gain courage to break up with her boyfriend and be better off without him.

Mayumi remained silent, it wasn't like her to admit she hurt someone for their sake. Plus that would sound just crazy. When Mayumi whisked out of her own personal bubble she noticed Ms.Yuki heading toward the door. Mayumi's mind was singing with joy, with Ms.Yuki gone she could easily slip out of detention, unnoticed and unwanted.

"I'm going to the principal's office for a moment. Please stay here or else the consequences will worsen."

Ms.Yuki doubted that Mayumi was even listening yet she was concerned for her. Ms.Yuki's slender silhouette disappeared into the hallway and Mayumi immediately burst into action. Her mind raced with ideas. Suddenly she was so overwhelmed as if she was fighting against herself. It was odd how at times she couldn't control her own body; it overpowered her wellbeing and at times did things she didn't realize was happening. She couldn't leave out of the classroom door, that would be too obvious, she would be easy bait for any nearby teacher. Then the gentle breeze tapped on her shoulder. She turned and looked out the window. Leaving out the window was an idea, her chances of getting caught were slim, but so were her chances of surviving. She didn't have time to contemplate the risk. Mayumi burst out the window without a thought in her mind, her eyes closed enough to where she did not know what fate had in store for her. To her surprise Mayumi felt her body crash into the familiar leather seat of her sister's car.

 

Machiko turned and glared at her sister. Was she nuts? Well....she must have had some for the courage to jump out of the two story school window.

 "You're lucky I was here at the right time!" Machiko raised her voice but tried to keep it calm because her younger sister Koemi was singing happily.

Machiko's brown curls entwined on the side of her head as her white doctor's coat overlapped the seat. Machiko smiled. She was just happy her sister was okay, but if she ever tried anything like that again instead of a smile it would be a foot up her ass. Mayumi titled her head to the side and sneakily winked. She looked like she was up to something but instead it was the complete opposite.

"I knew you would be here," Mayumi's voice was different.

 It must've been the fact that she could've died if it wasn't for Machiko's lucky hunch but deep in her voice was gratitude. Koemi giggled as she placed her hand over her tiny lips trying not to burst out laughing. Nothing was funny but seeing her sister's act like this always made her happy. Their connection was strange. Yes, as sisters there was a strong bond but there was also something else. Machiko turned forward, her body plopping back into the driver's seat.

"Let's go home."

Machiko quickly began to swerve and maneuver through the parking lot. Their parents were coming home today and all three girls were excited. Secretly Machiko was overwhelmed with excitement to see her mother. It's been months since they've seen them before they left and Machiko had much to tell. To her mother she was an open book, at times never shutting up about how she helped another patient, hung out with her friends at her bosses party or seen the same cute boy at the coffee shop. Machiko loved to tell her sisters things but she knew it wasn't the same as telling her mother. Mayumi could care less about her doctor work and Koemi would ask too many questions then complain that dinner wasn't cooked yet. Mayumi gazed out at the scenery. Trees passed by quickly the yellow, green, and orange of the leaves flushed together in an array of colors making it seem like the trees were on fire.

The car was quiet but there was no awkward silence; it was peaceful. Machiko began to pull into the street only a mile from their house when a strange car passed by. It was blue, a dark blue which almost seemed black with tinted windows and a dark figure that drove it. Koemi turned pale; she froze in her seat as she was drained of all her happiness and color.

"Koemi what's wrong?" Mayumi tried to ask her sister but Koemi just brushed it off like it was nothing.

 They headed closer and closer toward their house but something felt off. An eerie vibe swept through the air, alerting the girls that something was wrong. It felt as if a book was missing from a large library; although it may be small it did not seem right. They jumped out of the car with smiles of their faces awaiting their mother's subtle smile and their father's gentle gaze.

Machiko placed her hand on the door quickly swinging it open shouting "Welcome home!" Koemi and Mayumi entered right behind her but stopped in their tracks. Their eyes flooded with red, the walls, the stairs, the floor was covered in fresh blood. It was splattered carelessly all around. They stood there in shock, motionless. Their minds were overwhelmed with anger, sadness and confusion. Mayumi turned to Koemi with her hand out trying to cover her eyes but it was too late Koemi already fainted. Machiko stared forward; her hands trembled in fear as she began to run upstairs to her parents' bedroom. Mayumi collected herself and picked up Koemi, holding her carefully in her arms as she slowly walked upstairs mentally preparing herself for what horror awaited her.

Before Mayumi made it down the narrow hallway to the master bedroom she heard it. She heard Machiko's scream. Her scream was filled with pain making all who heard it cry in agony. Machiko's scream echoed through the house, only soon to be filled with her quiet sob. Mayumi stopped walking and turned back around to Koemi's bedroom. She could not take the risk of having Koemi wake up and see what her sister had; instead she placed Koemi's tiny body in bed and draped a warm blanket over her. Mayumi pivoted and walked back down the hallway toward Machiko. The house was dark but reeked of death, and the smell of rotting bodies. A trail of blood led Machiko down to the bedroom where Machiko curled down on her knees in front of their dead parents.

 


Posted on: December 13 2013

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POETRY:

iron

by Inqandu Quill-red

body of hope,
the weight of the world
a hammer descends;
centurion heart
and the iron beneath,
the anvil is struck;
born of the forge
a single purpose -
a fight to death.


Posted on: December 13 2013

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POETRY:

How She Acts

by BeetweenTheLines Quill-red

She is there everyday

with a false smile on her face

a facade she layers on to most people around her

but not all

to see her for the truth you must create a trusting bond

a link to her root soul that’s hidden beneath

a twisted inner soul with hurtful desires

like to beat all her friends

in life,

in love,

and even in death,

a drive for success so strong she would risk it all to come first

every day is a competition

and an opportunity to inflate and satisfy her ego

a time to shine and promote

the flawless exterior on the surface

like a saleswoman selling an overly inflated priced perfume

why?

because she is manipulative

but manipulations only get you so far, don't they?

 

these are her best and worst traits

she yearns to feel confident and strong

but until then she keeps that plastered smile on her face and tackles the day

like a fisherman with his mind set on catching the biggest fish

 

how do i know this?

she’s me

 

So now that I let that poem rant out of my system I just want to say that this poem depicts a personality that is completely opposite to mine! This was just a way for me to destress about a relationship I have with a person in my life. Even though this person has this personality I'm still their friend for whats most important, their inner most feelings. Therefore I tolerate the superficial exterior while in public so when we really can just sit down and have a conversation it is real and meaningful.

Thanks for taking the time to read my first post on this website! I really appreciate it and look forward to reading any comments on this piece. Cheers!


Posted on: December 12 2013

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POETRY:

To This Day

by Poetic Justice Quill-red

Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken that the heart strings bled the blues. As we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to penetrate. It does.

She was eight years old. On the first day of grade three. The day she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spit balls. But the school halls were a battle ground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was much worse. Outside, she had to rehearse how to run away. Or learn to stay still like a statue, giving no clues that she was even there.

In grade five, they taped a sign to her desk that read "Beware of Dog" To this day, despite a loving family and great friends, she doesn't think she's beautiful. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. And they'll never understand that she already had a hard life, she didn't need them to add on. They don't see her heart before they see her skin. But she's only ever been amazing.

She was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but not because her parents opted for a different destiny. She was three when she became a mixed drink. One part left alone, and two parts tragedy.

She started therapy in 6th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of antidepressants. And an adolescence of being called a popper. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. She tried to kill herself in 8th grade. When she went home to "mom" and "dad" they had the audacity to tell her "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.

To this day, she is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. She could descrobe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it is about to fall and despite an army of friends who call her an inspiration, she remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes that becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. But she isn't the only kid who grew up this way.

To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey stupid" "Hey spaz" Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. If a kid breaks into a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "Kids can be cruel."

Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers to clowns and then carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who she was. She was a freak.

Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies. Oddities juggling depression and lonliness. Playing solitairy spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice. And yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball and everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong.

They have to be wrong. Because why else would you still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway.

And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me"

Of course they did. But out lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.


Posted on: December 06 2013

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FICTION:

Fade Explosion

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special report from our Washington correspondents”

 “Good evening America.  We have just received information from Senate sources that the President
has requested a Declaration of War against Russia.  Sources say this is in response to this morning’s
simultaneous joint Chinese and Russian force invasions of Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia.  Russian forces
are now controlling the Suez Canal and major Saudi refineries.  Saudi sources report high casualty rates
and little resistance from the surprised nation.  The President is planning a noon news conference tomorrow
where he will officially declare war on Russia and ask Congress for nuclear mobilization. 
We return to scheduled programming”

 

RADIO

“ah, roger nine-two, tide-waters 7, 30 miles closing”
“roger nine-seven, tide-waters 9, 20 miles closing:
“ah, roger nine-three, tide-waters 10, 10 miles closing”
“Ok, roger one-one, tide-waters complete, we are over target”
“launch switches on, armed, dropping now”
“God bless America”

FADE EXPLOSION

“roger three, we are now high tide, returning to light house”
“roger eight, under heavy Mig fire!  Heavy bombers, heavy fire starboard engine!”
“(Inaudible)”


Posted on: November 28 2013

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POETRY:

DIRTY BIRDS

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

THIRTY
DIRTY
ZEROS

LINE UP
ON YOUR
BOTTOM LINE

FORTY
MILLION
EYES
VIEW
THE SCREEN

YOUR HAIR
TICKLES THE
HOLE

THIRTY
DIRTY
STORIES

TOLD
TO KEEP
A SECRET

HOW MUCH
IS NOT ENOUGH

THIRTY
DIRTY
BIRDS

DIGGING
FOR
DINNER

HOW MUCH
IS TOO MUCH

 


Posted on: November 24 2013

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FICTION:

Dear Diary: A small act of kindness goes a long way around

by Pirate Queen Quill-red

OK so i know that this is a really rough, rough draft but bear with me here. Also excuse my bad grammer and spelling please.
(I'm working on it.) This is my first play, its about 5 middle school students and how their lives work. The basis of the story is to compare and contrast their lives and to show that your good deeds mean something to others. This is the almost complete 1st act. It's about 2 3 scenes away from being fully finished. Please leave comments about what you think is good, bad, or what I can do to make it better. I apreciate all feedback.

Dear Diary: A small act of kindness goes a long way

 

Marigold (Mary): Anorexic, struggles with depression but keeps up her status on the outside. Is a cheerleader, popular but can’t seem to handle it all. Her grades start to slip. She doesn’t let anybody see her hurting, so she keeps it inside. Her reason is that her Mom recently died in a car crash.

Darcy: She is a cutter. Involved in band\choir. She can be played as a rebellious girl or a nice nerdy girl who doesn’t know how to deal with problems. She has an ok family life, but was emotionally abused as a child. She is constantly lonely and stressed.

Gwendolyn (Gwen): Perky and upright, performs in musicals and isn’t afraid to be who she is. Sometimes she will scare other off and it will make her sad but she will let it slide off her back. She daydreams a lot and is really weird, but she knows right from wrong. Is part of the debate team?

Karen (Kara): Is unpopular and bullied. She is seen as the weird emo girl who nobody likes. She eats lunch alone every day, she is and feels invisible. The only time anybody notices her is when they bully her. Her outlet is drawing clouds because she wishes she were one.

Trevor White (Rocky Road): He is by the world’s definition your average Jo. He has a crush on Marigold but feels he doesn’t have a chance. He feels as if he is no one special and can’t accomplish anything. His parents ignore him and he has major identity issues.

Plot: First act is the first day in school. The play starts off with them writing in their diaries about that day in school. The scene takes them and we back to what they are writing about. The scenes then show the lives these 5 live at school and at home. The act ends with them finishing their diary entries.

Second act starts with all except Gwen writing about how they don’t want to go to school. This time we see things in order. Their dreary lives continue, and Gwen only shows up in the second act to help others. The play ends with all 4 at the end of the day writing about how Gwen really made them feel special. Gwen steps on and they all say. A small act of kindness goes a long way.

Minor Characters:

Annalisa: She is Gwen’s best friend. She is an overzealous ensemble actress, and over exaggerates everything. She is peppy, fun, over-dramatic, and quirky.

Gigi: She is queen B. Mary is the most popular girl in school and she isn’t. She wants to be the best but she knows she can’t and is extremely jealous of Mary. Therefore she does everything in her power to try and bring Marigold down, while trying to look innocent. She is snobby, bratty, spoiled but not downright mean, just selfish.

Mickey: Trevor’s biggest “bro”. He is a track and field jock, very boyish and immature.

Jonah: Darcy’s best friend and lead singer in their band. Jonah genuinely cares about Darcy but he is too preoccupied to notice her hurting.

Charles: Annalisa’s boyfriend and fellow overzealous actor. He is very supportive and encouraging.

Mrs. Classwell: She is your average teacher and is tired of her rambunctious students, but still maintains an enthusiasm for learning.

Mr. Y: He thinks that science is the most important thing in the world. Very impatient and strict.

Gwen’s siblings: Anya age 7 twins Matt and Nathan age 5

Anya: Gwen’s little sister. She is spunky and girly. She thoroughly enjoys being around Gwen.

Matt and Nathan: These boys are twins and brothers of Gwen. They enjoy all the things a young boy should enjoy: anything with a gun or a ball.

 

 

Scene 1


(Scene: Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy, and Trevor are apron center with a blank set. They are standing next to each other but not aware of each other. Each of them holds a diary and a pen. None of them will actually write just pretend to write. Spotlights centered on them.)

Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy: Dear Diary

Trevor: Um hey journal

Mary: Today was

Gwen: Great!

Kara: The same as yesterday

Darcy: Hard

Mary: Stressful

Trevor: normal

Gwen: Today I

Kara: Drew some clouds

Mary: Went to cheerleading practice.

Darcy: Cut myself

Trevor: smoked pot

Gwen: Practiced my solo

Trevor: Sometimes I wish I could just be

Kara: I constantly feel

Gwen: I’m glad I’m not

Mary: My life is just so

Darcy: On the inside I am just

All 5: Dead

Kara: If you were a person, would feel that way too?

Gwen: Death is a scary thing

Darcy: I feel like I am dying but nobody knows.

Trevor: If life is always the same, then what is death?

Mary: People tell me all the time that I could die

Gwen: Anyways, I won’t talk about that

Darcy: Here’s what happened at school today

 (Scene shifts to school hallway as the curtains open and reveal a school setting. Characters stay in place for transformation. Once students start to come on then they blend into their groups. Mary with the cheerleaders, Trevor with some boys. Gwen with the somewhat abstract drama group, Darcy with people carrying instruments, and Kara just go to her locker alone. All 5 are in different positions but they are in front of their different groups. As they walk around students talk and give it the feel of a hallway. Bell rings and all students rush off except 5. They look at each other awkwardly then walk or shuffle their different ways).

 

 Scene 2

(All students are in one of 2classrooms. Each classroom has a teacher and students in each class are about12 . All the groups are mixed in the classes and leads are up front. Chairs are facing audience with teachers facing audience too. Darcy, Gwen and Kara are in Geometry class and Trevor and Mary are in the other)

Mrs. Classwell: Who knows what the meanings of interior opposing angles are?

Gwen: (Hand shoots in the air excitedly) me! Me! I know what it is!

Mrs. Classwell: (small audible sigh) Anyone else? Anyone? (Looks around room) Very well then, Mrs. Reed.

Gwen: It’s when they are on opposite sides of the transversal but on the inside of the parallel lines.

Mrs. Classwell: Very good. Now who knows what a transversal is?

(Gwen’s hand shoots up again)

(Scene goes over to second classroom. Spotlight switches)

Mr. Y : Ozone, A molecule composed of three oxygen atoms makes up this amazing filter.(Mic will go out or turn down, but Mr. Y will continue speaking his lesson, to keep the atmosphere up while Trevor tries to talk to Mary) It turns out that this amazing filter breaks down in the presence of ultraviolet light. It is extremely harmful to our bodies. It has just enough energy to break apart one of these bonds . Thus the ozone stops the ultraviolet light from getting to earth. But the truly amazing thing about the ozone is that it is not broken by invisible or infrared light! That is the light we actually need. As a result they pass right through the ozone layer. Now please understand that the ozone does not stop all ultra violet light from getting to the earth. Some of it does reach earth. This is a reason we get sunburned.

Trevor: (to Mary) ugh why do we even need to know this stuff?

Mary: I don’t know. Shhh

Trevor: But come on, I’m not going to be a scientist or anything when I grow up

Mary: Well, why not?

Trevor: I’m not smart or good enough

Mary: But you can always try. You never know. Maybe someday you will be a scientist.

Trevor: You really think so?

Mary: Ya, I think you can be anyth-

Mr. Y: Excuse Trevor and Mary. Am I interrupting anything?

Mary: (looking down) No sir

Mr. Y: Detention after school both of you.

(Turns to board and resumes drawing molecules)

Trevor: Sorry about that

Mary: It’s ok

(Lights go off on science classroom and turn on in geometry classroom)

Mrs. Classwell: As you all know your quarter projects are starting this week. But this time I might try something different (claps hands excitedly and looks at class hopeful) Partners! You may choose your partners but if you cannot decide then, I will choose your partners.

(Students shift around to find partners. Gwen links arms with friend Annalisa. Everyone has a partner except Darcy and Kara.)

Darcy: (to Kara) I guess were partners then

Kara: (Shyly with head down) ya I guess.

Mrs. Classwell: Ok now that were all buckled up and ready to go, I suggest you start. You will be making a poster each explaining different theorems of Geometry.

(Class gets into partners and starts discussing. Nobody is really talking and all is quiet, but everyone should be animated and in their projects)

Darcy: Hi… Its Kara right

Kara: Yes and your Darcy.

Darcy: Oh ok good, sorry I don’t see you around a lot, and I am completely bad with names

Kara: That’s fine (Turns the other way and whispers to self) It’s just because I am invisible.

Darcy: What was that?

Kara: Nothing (Goes back to doodling in notebook)

Darcy: I guess I’ll just get started then.

(Spotlight moves from Darcy and Kara to Gwen and Annalisa)

Annalisa: How many lines have you gotten down?

Gwen: (very proud of herself) All of them

Annalisa: Wow! But Gwen you only got the part of the witch a week ago!

Gwen: I know right! I just can’t help reading my script in my free time. I guess I read it so much that I just have it memorized!

Annalisa: You are so lucky you get a solo. Ensemble doesn’t get anything.

Gwen: But Annalisa, you guys are still important.

Annalisa: Thanks Gwen, you are so nice.

Gwen: (imitating fake blush) Aww shucks. (Checks watch) looks like it’s time for lunch.

(Bell rings students rush out of seats and go different directions. Lights go out and props are taken off by teachers. Blank stage is set. Kara is bumped by several people, all either ignoring her or scowling at her as she makes her way center stage.)

Kara’s Monologue Lunch Time

It’s that time again. (Small sigh) Lunch time. I don’t like lunch, I mean I like to eat but I just don’t like eating it with other people, or in my case, alone. I see people hugging and laughing and holding hands in the lunchroom. They are all so happy. But I have no friend to hug and to laugh with; I have no hand to hold. I’m not happy, I’m lonely. What’s wrong with me? I try to make friends. I really do try, but nobody likes me. I am pushed and shunned away.  I am invisible, I don’t matter. The only time I seem to exist to other people, is when they bully me. They hurt me; it hurts so bad that I just want it to stop. I’m so tired of this, of all of this. I just want it to stop. I want the pain to stop; I want the hurt to stop. I just want it to end.

Can’t you all remember I am human too? When you hurt me, I know you forget that. It’s easier to treat me like a thing, rather than a human being.  But I am a human; I have a heartbeat, a nose, fingers, and feelings. What makes me so different? Why can’t you just treat me how I deserve to be treated? Why can’t you just treat me like a human?

 Scene 3

(Lunchroom. Everyone is separated into their own groups talking laughing and hugging. Once everyone goes to their seat the dialogue starts. There should be at least 4 different lunch tables one with Gwen’s group, another with Mary and the cheerleaders, Trevor should be with the boys, Darcy should be with her music friends, and Kara should sit apron right by herself)

Gigi: Did you hear?

Mary: Hear what?

Gigi: Trevor broke up with Janelle Colin. He’s single and on the market.

Mary: (Trying to act as if she doesn’t care but obviously does) Oh really?

Gigi: Ya I know, he totally broke her heart last night.

Mary: I feel bad for Janelle, I honestly had no idea. But Gigi what do you care?

Gigi: Oh I don’t really care; I just thought you would want to know.

Mary: (embarrassed) Oh.

Gigi: (Looking at Mary’s untouched tray) aren’t you going to eat anything?

Mary: (Shifting around uncomfortably) No. I’m not hungry

Gigi: Oh well, ok then

(Spotlight shifts to Trevor and his friends as Trevor sits down)

Mickey: Hey Rocky Road!

Trevor: I told you not to call me that.

Mickey: Oh come on roadster. Ok fine. Heard about what happened last night.

Trevor: (accusingly) what do you care?

Mickey: (Throws hands in the air in sarcastic apology) Hey, hey, just wondering that’s all.

Trevor: Well mind your own business Mickey.

(Spotlight shifts to Darcy and her friends)

Darcy: Jonah, when have you gotten us lined up for our next gig?

Jonah: In 2 weeks.

Darcy: I thought you told me you got us one this week.

Jonah: Well Ya, but we already have 2 guitarists, we don’t need a third.

Darcy: So is that all I am to you, just a third guitarist?

Jonah: No Darcy, I didn’t mean it like that.

Darcy: (sigh) its fine Jonah, your right.

Jonah: Darcy, we still need you. The band still needs you. I still need you.

Darcy: (brightening up) I guess you’re right.

Jonah: You know Darcy lately you’ve been acting kind of

Darcy: Snappy

Jonah: No, more depressed. You’re not cutting again are you?

Darcy: (looking away) No

Jonah: Darcy please don’t do that again. It’s not going to help.

Darcy: OK

(Scene shifts to Gwen and Annalisa)

Annalisa: And I said to that. Moo Moo Moo Moo.

(Everyone erupts into genuine laughter)

Gwen: (gasping between breaths) that was so funny Annalisa!

Annalisa: It’s what I do best

Charles: I cannot wait for rehearsal today

All at table: Tech week!

Charles: I wish tech week was every week.

Gwen: As future president of United States of America, I say this shall pass!

(Laughter erupts again this time only louder, grabbing the attention of the nearby cheerleaders)

Gigi: What's their problem?

Mary: I don’t really care

Gigi: Anyways, so I told him, no way Mister, you cannot just call me that and expect to get away with it!

Mary: Gigi, do you ever feel like?

Gigi: Feel like what?

Mary: That we aren’t having as much fun as everyone else is?

Gigi: Are you kidding? Mary! We are the cheerleaders; we are at the top of the popularity food chain! Who could have more fun than us?

Mary: I don’t know. I guess your right

Gigi: You bet

(Spotlight goes to Trevor and his friends)

Mickey: You ok dude, you seem down.

Trevor: Not that breaking up with my ex would have anything to do with that.

Mickey: It was your call dude.

 

 

Still have to figure our scene ending

 Scene 4:

(About 20 students are in an art classroom. Mary and Kara are in the front painting their clay pots. Kara’s pot is a bowl but she is painting it black. Mary’s bowl is significantly bigger, more complex looking and beautiful. She is painting it violet and pink.  Mrs. Paint is walking around complimenting everybody’s sculptures.)

Mrs. Paint: (To random student) Very good. I like the colors.

(Mrs. Paint walks over to Kara)

Mrs. Paint: Kara darling, why are you painting it all black? Don’t you think it would look better with some brown or whites too?

Kara: I think its ok.

Mrs. Paint: Well ok then.

(Mrs. Paint walks over to Mary)

Mrs. Paint: Oh Mary! That looks wonderful!

Mary: This? It wasn’t that hard. I don’t think it’s that pretty.

Mrs. Paint: Well Mary you certainly have an artist’s eye.

Mary: I really don’t think it’s anything special.

Mrs. Paint: Mary would you like to take an afterschool art class?

Mary: I have cheerleading after school.

Mrs. Paint: Mary. You really have a lot of talent. You should just try. It’s not like you have to be an artist when you grow up.

Mary: I don’t even like art that much…

Mrs. Paint: But Mary, look at your sculpture. It’s gorgeous.

Mary: Thanks, but no thanks.

(Bell rings and Mary rushes off to class. Mrs. Paint leaves the room. Kara takes her time packing things up. Then looks around the room and sighs. Lights fade out)

Scene 5

(It is tech week for the drama department. It is the end of rehearsal and everybody is saying goodbye. Gwen finds herself alone on the stage)

Charles: This was a great run! I can’t believe the show is in a week. You were amazing out there today Gwen.

Gwen: Oh thanks Charles.

Annalisa: Well Charles and I have a study date. Keep up the good work. See you tomorrow. Bye!

(Annalisa hugs Gwen then walks hand in hand with Charles offstage leaving Gwen alone on the stage)

Gwen: Oh, I guess I’m alone.

(Gwen walks around the stage to different parts and pretends to be different people, or does a dance. Whatever she does she is just enjoying herself onstage. She stops center stage and turns to the audience, as if perhaps realizing something.)

Gwen’s Monologue: On the Stage

I am on the stage. The stage is in me. We are one. It lets me use its platforms to carry my message, and I take the privilege seriously. On the stage I am different. Of course it is because I am a character, but it is also because on the stage I am free. On the stage I am free to be whatever I want to be, wherever I want to be and do whatever I want to do. On the stage I feel alive. I am alive more than ever, pouring my soul out to the audience before me. On the stage my eyes light up. They carry a fierceness to them, a determination to show the world who I am. Or even just the people in the back row. On the stage I am flying. I am flying through my lines and my songs, I am flying inside the story I am telling. On the stage, I am free, alive, lit up, flying. On the stage I am really just me.

 Scene 6

(Detention. Trevor and Mary are sitting in a classroom at the very front one desk apart from each other. Mr. Y is reading a book at his desk next to a chalkboard that says: QUIET no talking during detention. Feel free to add as many students as possible)

Mary: (In a stage whisper) I heard you broke up with Janelle.

Trevor: (Staring off into space then his attention is brought to Mary) what?! Oh Ya. I guess the gossip has made its rounds then?

Mary: Ya I think so. Can I ask you a question?

Trevor: You can always ask me a question.

(Mary is taken back for a second then jumps right into the question)

Mary: Why did you do it? I mean break up with her?

Trevor: Well I. I honestly don’t know. I just think we weren’t getting anywhere.

Mary: Oh. Can I ask you another question?

Trevor: You just did.

Mary: (giggling) That doesn’t count. Do you um, think I’m skinny?

Trevor: You are seriously asking me that?

Mary: Ya your right I shouldn’t be asking that

Trevor: No I didn’t mean it like that I just meant, You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever known. And as far as I’m concerned you have a perfect body.

Mary: (Blushing) Oh, um thanks.

Mr. Y: Trevor and Mary, can you read?! (Points to sign that says quiet)

Trevor and Mary: Sorry.

Mr. Y: Well detention is over in 2 minutes anyways. I hope you learned your lesson about talking in class and in detention for you have detention tomorrow. (Sigh) You may go.

(Everyone leaves except Trevor. Props and set still stay in place)

 Trevor’s Monologue:  Your average Jo.

I’m Average. I’m not invisible at least, but I am normal and average. There’s a difference you know, I mean at least I know I exist .But I’m still nothing special. I’m not involved in any sports, I get B’s in all my classes, and I have no “special talents”.  My friend Mickey however, Oh man, he is amazing. He’s the quarterback on the football team, and he can get any girl he wants. Probably even Marigold Evans.  Not that she would pay him any mind. I hope. I wish I had a chance with her. At least she talks to me, but she would never like me for more than that.

It also doesn’t help that my parents wish I was somebody else. They wish I was like Mickey. I can see it in their eyes when I bring him to my house. No matter what they say or do, I can see it. I can see how they cringe when I show them my B’s on my report card. They have no idea how hard I try for those. When I was 7 my dad stopped taking me to the ball park, because it was too embarrassing when his son couldn’t catch a football.  I feel like I’m just a big disappointment to my parents. I’ll never be good enough for them, because in their eyes, in everyone’s eyes, I am just your average Jo.

(Scene ends. Lights go out and props and set are taken off stage.)

 

 

 

 Scene 7

(Kara’s and Gwen’s living rooms are set up next to each other. Kara’s on stage right and Gwen on stage left. Lights go on Kara first.)

(Kara walks to couch seeing and empty room) Kara: Mom? Dad?

(Kara’s mom walks in behind her wearing apron and holding a mixing spoon)

Kara’s Mom: Oh hey honey. Dad’s at work today. How was school today?

Kara: (forcing smile) Oh it was fine. I have a new partner for a math project. Her name is Darcy.

Kara’s mom: (obviously thinking about other things) that’s great honey.

Kara: Ya. Sure. Great.

(Lights go out for Kara’s house and spotlight switches to Gwen’s house)

Gwen: (Entering from stage left) I’M HOME!!!!

Anya, Matt and Nate: GWEN!!!! (Wrap around Gwen in bear hug)

Anya: (Letting go) Where have you been?

Nate: Mommy’s been worried.

Matt: Ya Ya!

Gwen: Oh you guys I was at tech rehearsal. It takes a long time. But Mom should have known I was there.

Anya: Well she didn’t.

Gwen’s mom: (Wearing a ratty apron and baking mitts)  Oh hello Gwendolyn.

Gwen: Hey Mom.

Gwen’s Mom: Where have you been? I’ve had to take care of these 3 and make dinner since your father is working the late shift.

Gwen: Mom I told you last night. I was at tech rehearsal.

Gwen’s Mom: Oh I’m sorry sweetie. But could you take care of them? I have to make dinner and pay the bills, and do the laundry.

Gwen: (trying not to sound too exhausted) Yes mom

(Gwen’s mom leaves stage left)

Matt: Soooo what do you want to play?

Nate: Gun war?

Matt: Water balloon fight?

Nate: Lego’s?

Matt: Car races?

Nate: Video Games?

Matt: Basketball?

Anya: Dolls and ponies?

Nate: That’s stupid.

Anya: Not as stupid as a water balloon fight.

Matt: What!

Gwen: (falling back into couch) Guys!

All 3: What?

Gwen: Do you know what I want to play?

Anya: Dolls?

Matt: Cars?

Nate: Guns?

Gwen: (Rising from couch) none of those. I want to play the quiet game.

All 3: (groaning) not again!

(Lights go off on Gwen’s family and switch to Kara’s house)

Kara’s Dad: (Entering stage right carrying briefcase and wearing dishelfed tie) I’m home.

Kara: Oh Hi Dad.

Kara’s Dad: (Sitting on couch across from Kara) so, how was school today honey?

Kara: (Looking uncomfortable)it was fine Dad.

Kara’s Dad: Really? Anything interesting happen?

Kara: No.(Mom walks in and Kara is relieved) Dad I think mom wants to talk to you.

Kara’s Dad: (While walking off) Ok see you later.

Kara’s Mom: Honey, Would you mind cleaning the house? I have a lot of work I need to do.

Kara: Ok Mom.

(Lights go on for Gwen’s side. Gwen’s siblings are frozen. Kara and Gwen in almost identical timing fall down on the couch and sigh)

Kara and Gwen: I think I need a nap.

(Scene Ends)

 

 

 

Scene Unknown

Darcy and Mary: Do you know what it’s like to have a secret you can’t control?

Darcy: You thought you could control it.

Mary: But instead, it controls you.

Darcy: That’s what cutting is like.

Mary: That’s what anorexia is like.

Darcy and Mary: It was supposed to be a way out.

Mary: I thought it would make me perfect

Darcy: I thought it would make me happy

Mary: It should have made me perfect

Darcy: It was supposed to make me happy

Mary and Darcy: I am never going to be enough

Darcy: Cutting is

Mary: Anorexia is

Mary and Darcy: Death

Darcy: But I can’t stop

Mary: There’s no way out now

Darcy: Some scars are there forever

Mary: People will think I’m ugly

Both: So I guess I’ll just keep

Mary: Starving

Darcy: Bleeding

Mary: Is this what I want?

Darcy: I’m crying for help but nobody hears me

Both: I chose this path. I’ll do what it takes to be

Mary: Perfect

Darcy: Happy

Mary: My choice left me starving

Darcy: My choice left me bleeding

(Scene ends)

 

 

Darcy’s Monologue: Some Scars

Some scars never heal. Some scars stay on you forever as a constant reminder of what you did, or what you didn’t do. You can try to ignore them, get rid of them, but they never heal. Sometimes you’ll forget there even there, but like waking up from a dream, the sight of the scars brings you back to the cold desolate place of reality. Some scars never heal.

I have scars. I have a lot of scars. I have167 scars. I counted, I know. I know why I have each and every one of those scars. I know why I left them on my body. To remind me. I remember, but all I want to do is forget. So I’ll take that blade and scrape it across my skin and leave more scars. Sometimes I won’t even wash the blood.

I know scars can be reopened. Sometimes I reopen my physical ones. But my emotional ones, well those are still bleeding. When you reopen a scar, it’s like a thousand memories flowing back into you at once. The guilty memories, the sad, the bittersweet but never the happy.

In the end I feel exhausted. Why? Why leave scars, and open old and leave new ones? Why? Why bleed over all of this endless cycle? What is the point?

I scrape, and cut and wash and bleed. But I know I know that some scars never heal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mary’s Monologue: Expectations

Expectations. Everybody expects something right? Or something is expected of everybody.

People look at me and expect to see a perfect girl, with perfect features, and perfect hair and a perfect body. Humph. Expectations.

People expect me to be perfect. At least that’s what it feels like. Picture perfect all the time. Constantly wearing a mask so that no one see’s the real you. Is the real me really that bad? If I peeled of my makeup would my face be hideous?  If I ate junk food and got fat would I lose my friends? What do you expect. Expect.

Everyone expects something of me. Nerds expect me to be mean. Mom expects me to be excellent. Friends expect me to be skinny. Teachers expect me to be dumb. But if I wasn’t anything like that what would people do? They would just keep expecting I meet their demands until I do.

Maybe that’s why I starve. To do something that they don’t expect of me. To try and be someone without labels. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe by starving I’m doing the exact thing everyone would expect.

I try and try to be my own person despite what people want, or think or expect. But when I really think about it who am I if people don’t expect something of me?

Darcy’s Monologue:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Posted on: November 19 2013

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POETRY:

TRAINS&DESTINATIONS

by William Wakefield Quill-purple

IN THE DARK
WHERE THE RAILROADS CROSS

MAN STANDS WITH HIS
HANDS IN HIS POCKETS
WONDERING IF HIS LIFE
IS LIKE A TRAIN

HE SEES THE CARS PASSING BY
OH THEY’RE SPEEDIN’
FLEEIN’ LEAVIN’
FOR ANOTHER TOWN
ANOTHER PLACE
THAT ON ARRIVAL
LOOKS THE SAME

TIME FLIES, HE WONDERS WHY
HE DOESN’T CARE IF HE LIVES OR DIES
FROM THE PAIN IN HIS BRAIN
AS HE WATCHES THE TRAINS GO BY

CONDUCTOR SAID THE ONLY WAY
TO SEE TONIGHT
IS TO LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND

AND AS HE RIDES INTO TOMORROW
THE MEANING OF THE MAN
STANDS ALONE
AT THE CROSSING
COLDLY TOSSING
FATE’S CRUEL DICE
IN THE AIR

AS LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS
STEAL AWAY
INTO THE NIGHT
HE FIGHTS NOT TO FEEL AGAIN

I’D STOP THE TRAIN
IF ONLY I COULD
I’D STAND IN THE TRACKS
IF THEY WOULD
STOP TO UNDERSTAND

SPINNING WHEELS
FEEL THE STEEL
OF THE COLD BLUE RAIL
PULLED BY SAILS OF DIESEL
THROUGH THE LAND

NEAR THE TRACKS
IN THE RISING SUN
BOOT-TRACKS LIE
WHERE ONCE WAS A MAN
BOUND TO DESTINATIONS

DARK FADES
THE SUN ASCENDS
A JOURNEY ENDS
AS ANOTHER MAN BEGINS

HE CLIMBS ABOARD
AND THE WHEELS SPIN


Posted on: November 16 2013

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