Crafted excellently. I am glad that I read this. Really made my day.
Ice may fall and break,
But shattered, it’s not destroyed.
Small shards still remain.
I’m glad we are as close as we are.
I love the way the corners of your mouth rise when you look at me. Not a conscious smile, but, an inevitable one.
I love that we can talk about everything and anything. You are a good listener and an interesting speaker. Your point of view is so refreshingly different from mine.
Time spent with you is a breath of fresh air.
But, dear, dear you. Although you seem presently unable to admit it, our journey is about to change.
I’m sure you felt it was kind, saying you love me like a brother. But, my feelings toward you do not reflect those of a sibling.
We are in interesting territory now.
Our relationship has crossed over the border of ’friendship’, and yet, you seem unwilling to enter the territory of ’couple’. I simply can not remain in No Man’s Land at length.
I say we continue onward and march bravely into new territory.
Yet you hesitate, allowing uncertainty and fear to hold you back. You have been, as yet, unable to acknowledge that we are at a crossroads at all. You are happy with the way things are and are afraid of change. I am also happy, although your uncertainty saddens.
What I want is you. I want you all to myself. It’s probably selfish, but, it’s already unfair.
I am already yours.
There are two things I do not want. I do not want to lose you, but, worse still, I do not want to coerce you. I don’t want to carry on without you and I do not want to carry you.
If you want me, choose me.
I will take the next step alone. I will be waiting one step into the new territory. I will beckon. I will wait patiently and woo you into my arms once more.
I will not force you to join me. I will not beg. I will simply do my utmost to win you over.
I will not force this issue ever again. If you retreat away from me, I’ll acquiesce and do the same. If you advance, I’ll advance with you.
The choice is yours.
In the evening, I feel able to speak. I can express my thoughts very clearly. But, when morning strikes, the river of eloquence regresses to a trickling brook of mumbling.
Somehow, I feel both get the point across fairly well.
One conveys my opinion with the grace of a fairly adequate orator. The other bluntly grunts, “Back off. Not a morning person.” or, in layman’s terms, “Bakrrrr grrrr blunnrrrrgggh”.
”Garth,” I spurted, trying not to sound too surprised.
I couldn’t see anyone near us. That wasn’t a good sign. Since we left the academy together, I’d never known Garth to do anything without back-up. Sadistic coward.
Looking around, I fought to focus my exhausted eyes. It was clear, in the state I was in, I wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.
”You’re not still cut up about the whole ’me-smashing-your-front-teeth-with-a-fire-extinguisher’ thing, are you?” I asked.
A brick, alone, is without worth.
It can’t do much at all.
It’s just a piece of hardened earth,
Not wide. Not deep. Not tall.
It won’t keep you protected,
Nor keep you warm or fed.
It cannot be erected,
Into house, nor tent, nor bed.
But, if a brick is not alone,
If it surrounds itself with friends,
It makes the strongest kind of home.
One on which you can depend.
Death is an end. It’s not necessarily ’the’ end, but, an end nonetheless. My favourite description goes something like this:
Imagine yourself walking along a path, and, you come to a wall. The wall stretches as far as you can see in either direction. It completely cuts off the path. You are able to climb the wall from this side, but, if you do, there is no guarantee that you will be able to get back.
Death is a little like that. Unknown. It’s an end of a path.
The path may continue over the wall. It may not. It might be the start of a new path.
Death, if nothing else, is a transition from one state to another. Everyone seems to have an opinion and a hope, a theory they hold dear. Be it heaven, nothing or a new life.
All that is certain is that it is inevitable, attainable and mysterious. It is a journey everyone will take, but, no one knows when. But, it isn’t a journey you should take prematurely. It will happen in due course. This path always leads to that wall.
That is why this path is so precious. You can never be certain how many steps you’ve got left.
13th word: Purpose
I sat there, eyes unwaveringly focused on the pumpkin-headed scarecrow, eerily lit by reflected moonlight. I sighed, partly shadowed by the old wooden sign I leant against. It wore but a single, blood-red word, “Beware!”
Ha. If only I had adhered to that advice.
I didn’t use the word ’cage’ in as many letters, but, I feel I spelt it out in feeling.
If that’s cheating, please tell me.
The metal wrapped tight,
With gaps that are just too small,
To let freedom in.
Next word: Flight
Two men beside each other blinked in unison. A third scratched his head. The only woman at the table stopped taking notes, placed her pen down and looked up. They exchanged glances and looked back at me.
“Do you expect us to believe that?” she asked, almost menacingly.
“It is the truth,” I replied, “I haven’t expected anyone to believe it since the trial.”
Every parole meeting ended the same way.
“Thank you for your time,” she said, as if my time was my own to give.
Sandwiched by bustling city and damp, green forest, the diner seemed a rundown relic of times now passed. It wasn’t particularly busy, which was just as well. I could do without the unnecessary attention of passersby. As inconspicuously as a soggy, bleeding man could possibly manage, I emerged from the trees, crossed the road and rounded the diner. It wouldn’t be long before they found my car in the lake back, behind me. I needed to get moving.
Mind if I call you ’Squatch’ for short?
I will for this post, but, if you hate it, I won’t ever again.
So far, I agree with pretty much everything posted so far. I have always found the best remedy for atrocious grammar and syntax is reading. As you read more, Squatch, you’ll find yourself developing a ’feel’ for grammar.
Things start to feel right right when they’re right and odd when they aren’t. You can’t always tell why it feels strange, but, something inside you stands up indignantly and pokes the part of your brain that decides when you’re comfortable.
That, my dear Squatch, is the analytical part of your brain comparing the words you see now with all memories of similar situations. If you have read something before that is similar to what you are reading/writing now, you will have a feeling about it now.
Now, this doesn’t always happen. It only happens when you see something you’ve seen before. You have to have an adequate level of prior experience with that particular word, phrasing, context, etc. for your memory to be a reliable resource. The more accurate your understanding, the less comfortable you feel reading something that has been phrased incorrectly.
The next most helpful thing, in my experience, is asking for criticism. So, Squatch, good call in asking for advice!
”Michelle”, she thought to herself, ”That’s believable.”
The well-dressed young man looked at her, almost expectantly. He waited. She looked back into his eyes, forced a smile and quickly glanced behind her. Nothing was there.
A young couple exited through the large, glass doors at the side of the room.
”Yes, definitely Michelle”, she thought once more, as if to reassure herself. The young man, still waiting, began to fidget.
”Michelle” she said confidently.
”Ah.” he replied, almost non-verbally. He had lost interest.
A bell rang from behind her. She spun around and snatched a brown paper bag. This is what he had come for. She handed him his lunch.
”Thanks,” they both said simultaneously.
He walked towards the door and gripped it with his right hand. He paused and turned back to her, his nonchalant smile now seemed a little confused. He chuckled and pointed to his chest. Then he gestured at her with a dip of his head.
She looked down and saw her name badge. It read ”Bridgette”. She looked up, but he was already gone.
(A girl at a fast food place took a really long time to tell me her name, hence this ^^)
It was kind of like a droplet of water. Just held together, by some form of scientific sorcery, it fell toward the ground.
Not shattered, but, dispersed, it ends its journey.
All right, I’ll jump in.
I’m not particularly passionate about this topic, but, let’s have some debate!
All throughout history, people have fought for the right to vote. All over the world, people are still fighting.
Because an individual’s right to vote is a valuable thing. It ensures that each part of society is represented within the body that governs that society. It is the one thing that makes democracy functional.
Choosing not to exercise that right to vote seems to me to be a symptom of extreme apathy, a complete lack of political understanding or maybe even a form of contextual stupidity (Where the context is ”things that matter”).
I guess the only saving grace about the right to abstain from voting, is that those who choose to exercise it, probably shouldn’t vote in the first place.
Mandatory voting encourages everyone to participate. If you don’t know enough to make an informed decision, you are quickly alerted that such is the case and that now would be the correct time to remedy the situation.
The bird in the sky
can fly over his troubles,
Leaving them behind.
Next word: Ultimatum
“Well”, he said, a small grin creeping across his face, “I guess you’re down to your last chance Mr. Jones.” He lifted one thin, ringed finger and pressed down on the table. A small rectangular section of the tabletop popped up, revealing a button.
“…or should I say, Mrs. Jones!” he exclaimed.
They’re on to me!
He pressed the button…
It was kind of like your mother… *Shudder*
My biggest, largest and heaviest regret.
(Are ”yo mama” jokes still funny?)
- Load More