A writer is like a magician. While the latter casts spells with the wave of the wand, a writer paints pictures and invokes emotions with the movement of a pencil across a blank page. Perhaps this form of conjuring is not as glamorous as a wizard’s, and yet anyone who has read the written word is well familiar with the power it can carry.
I conjured up a fury in my house late last night. When I discovered a my film cover was screening at local theatre. Ah but then I woke and my fears dissipated, how inflated my pride was in morning before I headed off to my slated slot of dull affairs, my boring desk job selling office chairs. Yet my imagination had conjured up some feelings and daydreaming I visited that dream where I had my screening done and everyone sung praise. A grace of imagery had floated upon me, I was not screenwriter, I was no desk jokey, I was but a student of unstable flair, typing upon a site in which my post – this post – I would then share.
It conjured up unwelcome memories, and I’m certain he did it for that very reason. Was he trying to get us to think, or did he simply want to be disturbing? Whatever the answer, he succeeded on both counts.
The room was filled to the brim with silence~ the crowd had so much potential for laughter, chatter, or as an angry mob, but everyone was transfixed, a mixture of anticipation and awe suspending them in a state of calm, focused only on outside stimulus as it lay before them.
Many years later, those present at the performance would still recall it with startling clarity, such was the magnitude of the awe at what had been conjured that day, almost seared into the memory, like a branded cow, scarred for evermore.
I never thought such a deep attraction could be conjured out of nowhere, based on only fact and thought. It’s much easier to fall in love without reason or intention.
I conjured up a rabbit from the dead man’s hat. It hopped out, sniffed the bloody strands of his hair, nibbled until his little pink nose turned red, and scurried off in disappointment that it didn’t taste like lettuce.
I conjured up a story in my mind. We were in love. It was as real as anything I had ever know. In front of that lake, our spell was cast. The most perfect kiss. Nothing, not a single thing could be changed to make it more magical. I conjured up our love.
I conjured up the image in my mind with ease. I could see his face so clearly, covered with black stubble, his small brown eyes sparkling with laughter. His stupid purple beanie covering his explosion of hair, his striped shirt, the one he says he wants to live in.
She conjured up a life in the cauldron of her mind, caressing it with the occasional stir of drama and a dash of disappointment to deepen its flavor. She tasted the success and found it sweet, though ultimately the concoction was far from complete, for what was a life unlived, a life fabricated and untouched by others?
He sighed, frustrated. It seemed like the fate had conjured against him! The damn alarm clock had chosen exactly that day to stop functioning and he had, of course, overslept. The bus was overcrowded, and it was only after he’d gotten out that he realized his purse wasn’t in his pocket anymore, and, since he had forgotten to take the umbrella with him, the dark, menancing clouds had decided to honour their promise, and the cold rain was quickly drenching him.
He finally reached his office, and got in, depressed. The day had got a really bad start, and he was resignedly beginning to wonder how worse it could get.
Then, he casually met her eyes, and a warm smile brightened her gentle features. She was really smiling at him! Maybe, that day wasn’t going to be so bad…
Wizards conjure spells and spells can be good or bad. If a wizard had shown up in Romeo and Juliet then everything would have turned up ok and everyone would have lived. And me myself and others would have restored faith in true love.
The magician conjured a bird next. It wasn’t a real bird; it was made from smoke. The smoke took flight around the room, leaving the crowd gasping in awe. Suddenly, however, it turned on the magician, clawing and scratching, leaving gashes on his arms.
I walked by the deli today at the supermarket. It’s always weird going there by myself. Feeling like there should be someone there telling me what to buy. In an instant my brain conjured the image of my grandmother pushing me in a carriage. Feeding me a slice of rogue cheese, fresh from the packaging.
“Our little secret,” my grandma said, handing me the shoplifted goodness.
I smiled. Then and now.
My grandma is an alcoholic. I wonder if she remembers this occasion. Somehow I doubt it. You can never estimate the impact tiny experiences have on other people.
I went back to pushing my cart. In a different cadence.
As witch in this school it is my job to learn how to conjure all sorts of things. Not very easy. Have you ever tried to conjure an apple out of thin air. No? i didn’t think so. It tooks days and weeks of practice before I could create the perfect apple. It was either rotten, bruised or full of worms. I was a failure as a witch.
Once upon a time there was a young girl. Her name was Melanie, she thought that she’d be able to conjure up a spell to help save her grandmother. However, having turned into a witch only three weeks prior to the day, there was no way she’d have the time to learn how to use her powers well.
and in the blink of an eye, i saw it rise before me. Jack had conjured up the entirety of the desert into the sky and was creating a whole glass city. I didn’t believe it was possible to create so much with such a small channel, a white porcelain elephant.
She poured over the runes, just to make sure they were correct. When Larien was certain, she stood up, laid her hands on the page (unnecessary but it made her feel better; as if the touch made her connection to the magic stronger), then spoke the words. Instantly the room dimmed, each candle flickering in protest before going out. Then it appeared, glowing faintly in the darkness.
i conjured up the mojo to challenge him/it head on. i won. at least i thought i did. that was before i noticed that he was laughing —- last. I looked around and realized in challenging him/it i was only challenging myself. I wept—-less at my defeat, more at my ignorance.
She conjured his image to her mind, filling in every detail with obsessed precision. Slowly, it grew more real in her eyes until finally he stood before. His green eyes though were blank and dead and though he breathed softly, his chest rising and falling under the ochre tunic, he made no motions. She screamed a curse and thrust her hand into the space he should occupy. With that, he disappeared and she fell to the ground in tears.
Memories brought back from long ago. Feelings brought from thin air, all with a sense of falsity behind them. He smiled, but it wasn’t him. It was brought out of nothing, and to nothing it would return. Conjuring never worked well.
He conjured a spell. It involved me as well. Me and my heart. Really, his idea was quite very smart. He stole my thoughts, and drove me mad. Never thought I could feel just like that. He conjured me away, with words of his own. And now forever we are together, nevermore to be alone.
This word is about manifestation. This is how you make things that don’t exist. I would also like to be able to conjure whatever I want, whenever I wanted. I would like to conjure a nice beach, private where only I could go. This beach would be perfect, with warm sand and warm water, and no sharks.
I seem to have conjured up the desire to take a very good picture of myself to put on facebook. All of my pictures are very old, and I would like for people to see what I really look like today. Or at least what I want them to think I look like…
Conjured out of smoke and mirrors. Or so the stories go. Magic was a tamed thing in these days. Stuff of charlatans and conmen on the street. They’d forgotten the older magics of blood, fire, spirit, bone. Those who practiced these ancient arts still, remained in the shadows above even the highest authorities.
and we’ve done it finally maybe done it conjured up a plan for the ages a new way of living and of trying to be the same as before as friends as people as humans in this place so beautiful and quaint and real this place with the bench by the clock and the giving and the dreams. this place where we met, fell in love, and tore ourselves apart.
She plucked them from her velvety sleeves like some star-spangled magician. She pulled lies out endlessly, until she had nothing else to tear away but skin. Until her dishonesty has stripped her down to her skeleton- bare and cold. She couldn’t stop though. They fell cold and pebbled over her lips. Ugly, regurgitated truths.
He was flipping through the pages of his old note book, and the images started to whirl into his mind, setting off memories of old lovers and lost friends. The music in background added to his sadness, tears started to buildup in his eyes.
A writer is like a magician. While the latter casts spells with the wave of the wand, a writer paints pictures and invokes emotions with the movement of a pencil across a blank page. Perhaps this form of conjuring is not as glamorous as a wizard’s, and yet anyone who has read the written word is well familiar with the power it can carry.
i conjured may potions and i used them to murder the traitor that betrayed me. he is now dead.
have no idea what it is. I think it is something to do with injury and con.
I conjured up a fury in my house late last night. When I discovered a my film cover was screening at local theatre. Ah but then I woke and my fears dissipated, how inflated my pride was in morning before I headed off to my slated slot of dull affairs, my boring desk job selling office chairs. Yet my imagination had conjured up some feelings and daydreaming I visited that dream where I had my screening done and everyone sung praise. A grace of imagery had floated upon me, I was not screenwriter, I was no desk jokey, I was but a student of unstable flair, typing upon a site in which my post – this post – I would then share.
I conjured up the view of Obama, jumping off the rim of the grand canyon. Guess it was more of a nightmare than a dream. What
It conjured up unwelcome memories, and I’m certain he did it for that very reason. Was he trying to get us to think, or did he simply want to be disturbing? Whatever the answer, he succeeded on both counts.
I didn’t like it one little bit.
The room was filled to the brim with silence~ the crowd had so much potential for laughter, chatter, or as an angry mob, but everyone was transfixed, a mixture of anticipation and awe suspending them in a state of calm, focused only on outside stimulus as it lay before them.
Many years later, those present at the performance would still recall it with startling clarity, such was the magnitude of the awe at what had been conjured that day, almost seared into the memory, like a branded cow, scarred for evermore.
I never thought a deep connection like this could be conjured simply from Kerouac and a shared love of beat.
I never thought such a deep attraction could be conjured out of nowhere, based on only fact and thought. It’s much easier to fall in love without reason or intention.
I conjured up a rabbit from the dead man’s hat. It hopped out, sniffed the bloody strands of his hair, nibbled until his little pink nose turned red, and scurried off in disappointment that it didn’t taste like lettuce.
i conjured this magical potion. it saved the world from the zombie apocalypse. im pretty excited for the weekend. running workshops and stuff
i can’t conjure happiness if i can’t conjure pot. therefore i am stuck in a sour-smelling house without anything to show for my ow existence.
I conjured up a story in my mind. We were in love. It was as real as anything I had ever know. In front of that lake, our spell was cast. The most perfect kiss. Nothing, not a single thing could be changed to make it more magical. I conjured up our love.
I conjured up the image in my mind with ease. I could see his face so clearly, covered with black stubble, his small brown eyes sparkling with laughter. His stupid purple beanie covering his explosion of hair, his striped shirt, the one he says he wants to live in.
She conjured up a life in the cauldron of her mind, caressing it with the occasional stir of drama and a dash of disappointment to deepen its flavor. She tasted the success and found it sweet, though ultimately the concoction was far from complete, for what was a life unlived, a life fabricated and untouched by others?
All my lives, I have waited for this day. Who knew? To conjure one of them meant I had reached my highest form. I was AWAKE.
He sighed, frustrated. It seemed like the fate had conjured against him! The damn alarm clock had chosen exactly that day to stop functioning and he had, of course, overslept. The bus was overcrowded, and it was only after he’d gotten out that he realized his purse wasn’t in his pocket anymore, and, since he had forgotten to take the umbrella with him, the dark, menancing clouds had decided to honour their promise, and the cold rain was quickly drenching him.
He finally reached his office, and got in, depressed. The day had got a really bad start, and he was resignedly beginning to wonder how worse it could get.
Then, he casually met her eyes, and a warm smile brightened her gentle features. She was really smiling at him! Maybe, that day wasn’t going to be so bad…
Wizards conjure spells and spells can be good or bad. If a wizard had shown up in Romeo and Juliet then everything would have turned up ok and everyone would have lived. And me myself and others would have restored faith in true love.
Magical. Witchcraft. Voodoo. Make something out of nothing. Illusion. Tricks
A miracle conjured. Water became wine. Water flowing, wine flowing. Happiness. Blue sky. Eternity awaits. Remembrance. We are going home.
What I conjured wasn’t expected. Much too detailed-so much grit. I thought conjuring meant amorphous, wispy, free-flowing, and interpretative.
The magician conjured a bird next. It wasn’t a real bird; it was made from smoke. The smoke took flight around the room, leaving the crowd gasping in awe. Suddenly, however, it turned on the magician, clawing and scratching, leaving gashes on his arms.
I walked by the deli today at the supermarket. It’s always weird going there by myself. Feeling like there should be someone there telling me what to buy. In an instant my brain conjured the image of my grandmother pushing me in a carriage. Feeding me a slice of rogue cheese, fresh from the packaging.
“Our little secret,” my grandma said, handing me the shoplifted goodness.
I smiled. Then and now.
My grandma is an alcoholic. I wonder if she remembers this occasion. Somehow I doubt it. You can never estimate the impact tiny experiences have on other people.
I went back to pushing my cart. In a different cadence.
As witch in this school it is my job to learn how to conjure all sorts of things. Not very easy. Have you ever tried to conjure an apple out of thin air. No? i didn’t think so. It tooks days and weeks of practice before I could create the perfect apple. It was either rotten, bruised or full of worms. I was a failure as a witch.
Once upon a time there was a young girl. Her name was Melanie, she thought that she’d be able to conjure up a spell to help save her grandmother. However, having turned into a witch only three weeks prior to the day, there was no way she’d have the time to learn how to use her powers well.
and in the blink of an eye, i saw it rise before me. Jack had conjured up the entirety of the desert into the sky and was creating a whole glass city. I didn’t believe it was possible to create so much with such a small channel, a white porcelain elephant.
She poured over the runes, just to make sure they were correct. When Larien was certain, she stood up, laid her hands on the page (unnecessary but it made her feel better; as if the touch made her connection to the magic stronger), then spoke the words. Instantly the room dimmed, each candle flickering in protest before going out. Then it appeared, glowing faintly in the darkness.
i conjured up the mojo to challenge him/it head on. i won. at least i thought i did. that was before i noticed that he was laughing —- last. I looked around and realized in challenging him/it i was only challenging myself. I wept—-less at my defeat, more at my ignorance.
She conjured his image to her mind, filling in every detail with obsessed precision. Slowly, it grew more real in her eyes until finally he stood before. His green eyes though were blank and dead and though he breathed softly, his chest rising and falling under the ochre tunic, he made no motions. She screamed a curse and thrust her hand into the space he should occupy. With that, he disappeared and she fell to the ground in tears.
Memories brought back from long ago. Feelings brought from thin air, all with a sense of falsity behind them. He smiled, but it wasn’t him. It was brought out of nothing, and to nothing it would return. Conjuring never worked well.
He conjured a spell. It involved me as well. Me and my heart. Really, his idea was quite very smart. He stole my thoughts, and drove me mad. Never thought I could feel just like that. He conjured me away, with words of his own. And now forever we are together, nevermore to be alone.
This word is about manifestation. This is how you make things that don’t exist. I would also like to be able to conjure whatever I want, whenever I wanted. I would like to conjure a nice beach, private where only I could go. This beach would be perfect, with warm sand and warm water, and no sharks.
Hans Robert Moore
I seem to have conjured up the desire to take a very good picture of myself to put on facebook. All of my pictures are very old, and I would like for people to see what I really look like today. Or at least what I want them to think I look like…
Conjured out of smoke and mirrors. Or so the stories go. Magic was a tamed thing in these days. Stuff of charlatans and conmen on the street. They’d forgotten the older magics of blood, fire, spirit, bone. Those who practiced these ancient arts still, remained in the shadows above even the highest authorities.
and we’ve done it finally maybe done it conjured up a plan for the ages a new way of living and of trying to be the same as before as friends as people as humans in this place so beautiful and quaint and real this place with the bench by the clock and the giving and the dreams. this place where we met, fell in love, and tore ourselves apart.
I do not understand the world. So instead, I conjure it’s mirror because it is that image that I am able to handle.
These words weren’t conjured up with ease, they were whipped like slaves out of my weary mind.
She plucked them from her velvety sleeves like some star-spangled magician. She pulled lies out endlessly, until she had nothing else to tear away but skin. Until her dishonesty has stripped her down to her skeleton- bare and cold. She couldn’t stop though. They fell cold and pebbled over her lips. Ugly, regurgitated truths.
He was flipping through the pages of his old note book, and the images started to whirl into his mind, setting off memories of old lovers and lost friends. The music in background added to his sadness, tears started to buildup in his eyes.