oneword.com

I DONT LIKE THIS WORD!

Posted By Grace On 05.23.2013 @ 4:11 pm

clout is an odd word, ive never heard of it before but i like tacos. this word reminds me of the word cloud cuz its spelled slimiarly. thats it.

Posted By Grace On 05.23.2013 @ 3:44 pm

Being launched into an icy bucket of hell was not new to me, but it still came as a sudden shock as I attempted to withhold my scream. Staring intently through the window, my mother watched, worry lines painting her face. Air hissed between my teeth- suck it up, suck it up.

Posted By Grace On 05.20.2013 @ 1:24 pm

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. And that’s exactly what they were- deep, deep shadows, eternally menacing and haunting footstep with dusk.

But I walked.

Posted By Grace On 04.29.2013 @ 1:49 pm

My shoulders folded within themselves, my ballooning ribs, and a sheltered gaze beneath a checked cap as I shambled, barely in one piece, into an up-kept Starbucks, my familiar opposite.

Posted By Grace On 04.23.2013 @ 9:52 am

A jumbling: a shitty, short, pithy length of attached words, only connected by their lack of conviction. You didn’t really want to say this- did you?

Posted By Grace On 04.17.2013 @ 10:05 am

They’ll never stop judging me. They’ll never stop telling me I’m wrong. They might not ever let me get married. But I’ll never stop being attracted to who I’m meant to be attracted to. I’ll never stop loving who I was meant to love. I’ll never stop and neither will she, whoever she may be.

Posted By Grace On 04.14.2013 @ 8:39 am

And fabrication was what brought us all together. If we were not fabricated, we would not exist. We were fabricated by our perfect creator and together we fabricate our world.

Posted By grace On 04.01.2013 @ 4:36 pm

She was a natural strength. She kept moving. Kept looking forward. Never being tied down. Impossible to get a grip on. Ripped and threw those in her way. Unapologetic and never ending until the end may come.

Posted By Grace On 03.28.2013 @ 8:32 am

the boots lay mangled in a corner, befriending hte cobwebs. it’s soles droop onto the floor and its overalls hang like soaked cloths. the curtain drapes tickle its laces as it falls from the window above.

Posted By Grace On 03.23.2013 @ 10:41 pm

The bricks may have been the ones holding the house up, but it was the family that tore the home down.

Posted By Grace On 03.22.2013 @ 4:22 pm

The present involves no fear. We run from the past. We shy away from the future. Right now is okay.

Posted By Grace On 03.20.2013 @ 11:36 pm

They believed she was a dog. They believed they should beware of her. She wasn’t the dog to beware of, they were.

Posted By Grace On 03.20.2013 @ 3:55 pm

She didn’t consider pain a feeling; she considered it her life.

Posted By Grace On 03.19.2013 @ 5:20 pm

But I didn’t, she screamed, I never wanted the truth. She collapsed into a heap of tears, each tear being released like the lies she had been fed, never to come back again.

Posted By Grace On 03.18.2013 @ 4:06 pm

She was not the director of a play with actors and a plot. She was the director of a life with people and problems and solutions.

Posted By Grace On 03.12.2013 @ 4:14 pm

After all this time. It came back to where it began. Back to the start.

Posted By Grace On 03.07.2013 @ 5:14 pm

“I see signals everywhere. How can no one else see them? Look, over there, the way that woman looked as she crossed the street surely meant she wanted me to help her. The way the wind rustled the trees, the way the cars engine sputtered right as I walked past. How can no else see? Why won’t they believe me? You believe me don’t you?”

The man walked alone begging his friend to believe him. But the phone he was shouting into was turned off and his furtive glances had made the woman cross the road to get away from him.

Posted By Grace On 03.07.2013 @ 3:29 am

I am the fire. I am the fighter. I am not the fire fighter. I let the fire overtake me. I sit in the crumbling house and wait for the flames to swallow me and bring me back to where I started.

Posted By Grace On 03.05.2013 @ 3:00 pm

The wind made the sand rise past her ankles and whip her shins like the flames had risen past the logs on the bonfire they’d extinguished earlier that evening. Pressing her head down she made her way back up along the beach, the pebbles and sand making her journey harder, the darkness seeming to fall far too quickly. “Not much further” she shouted, but her voice was dragged off in the other direction. She turned a corner so a cliff face could act as a breaker to the wind. A few minutes later she stepped back into the cold, suddenly deafened by the howls of the gale. Surely they would have caught her up by now. The beach was deserted. They were gone. She was alone.

Posted By Grace On 03.05.2013 @ 2:27 pm

She went in like a lamb and came out like a lion. A bloody, barely living lion. But still the queen of the jungle.

Posted By Grace On 03.04.2013 @ 4:12 pm

She knew she deserved it for what she did. But she thought life with no parole was a little harsh for someone who had only witnessed. That’s what you get for not standing up for yourself, life with no parole.

Posted By Grace On 02.28.2013 @ 4:25 pm

He lied on the ground, bleeding. Not blood. But everything else. He was bleeding out everything that he loved. Everything that mattered to him, rushing out his body. Never to come back.

Posted By Grace On 02.26.2013 @ 2:31 pm

The diamond in the rough. The most beautiful in the most dark. The brightest sun comes after the storm. The crystals in the cave.

Posted By Grace On 02.24.2013 @ 10:11 am

Etched into its crevices were the loving caresses of time- she had seen many suns. Her eyes were that of pebbles abandoned in the deep sea, yet were somehow more ghostly than a giggling version. It was lonely. It was lovely. And it was time to be alone.

Posted By Grace On 02.21.2013 @ 7:01 am

She grasped his hand as he tried to walk away. “Don’t.” He snatched it away and carried on. “Please.” She called after him but he was already slamming the door.

Posted By Grace On 02.19.2013 @ 3:00 pm

Branches flailing like the arms of drowning man. Bucking and bending beneath the power of the wind, the trunk of the great oak seemed to moan with pain and sorrow every time another gust of wind battered it. The rain formed puddles that washed away the soil revealing its roots, its stronghold on the landscape slipping, creaking and swaying with the power of storm. A crack, the snap of a breaking bone sounded as the lightning struck. Down. It crashed, and there it lay until long after the storm clouds parted and the skies returned to blue.

Posted By Grace On 02.18.2013 @ 2:07 pm

The times that I feel at most fatigue is when I’ve had a busy weekend with guests staying over and I am hosting people throughout. I get tired just thinking about it before the weekend arrives. There’s the list of things to do, such as cleaning, grocery shopping, making up beds, bathroom duties, meals to cook, fun things to do and the list goes on. I don’t know how often I feel like this but when Monday morning rolls round and I’m sitting at my desk sipping my green tea, that’s when it hits me. My eyes are droopy and I start leaning back on my chair and I think about how much I’ve done throughout the weekend. I thought exercise was the main reason behind being fatigue but it’s actually being a good host that takes the energy out of me. Oh well – better check who’s next on the visitor calendar.

Posted By grace On 02.17.2013 @ 6:11 pm

Please, she willed him. I need it more than you’ll ever know.

Posted By Grace On 02.15.2013 @ 3:08 pm

When I was growing up life was nothing like it is now. There were so many more freedoms that kids and teenagers had that most of them don’t even understand anymore. Like the freedom to say what you wanted to but to be respectful while you did it. The freedom to wear clothes the way you wanted to that were still classy. Why can’t kids today realize what real freedom is.

Posted By Grace On 02.09.2013 @ 5:07 am