Prompt: I feel that I so desperately / Need to scream. / I want to scream so loud / That the ground underneath me trembles / And the treetops above me shake. / There is so much anger within me. / So much rage and fear and sorrow and grief. / I feel as though I am decaying from the inside out / And there is nothing that can save me. / I need to scream. / Scream for help. / Scream for relief. / And yet, / When I open my mouth, / Silence.
I feel A desperate need. A need to scream. I want to scream So loudly That the ground beneath me Trembles And the treetops shake. There is so much pain So much sorrow So much grief. I’m decaying From the inside out. Nothing can save me. I need to scream. Scream for help. Scream for relief. Yet, When I open my mouth. Silence. And I am left, Unheard. And there I stay. Slowly Dying And no one can hear me.
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Prompt: Go on a trip
Amadraya stood at the edge of the boat, staring at the water churning below her. She placed her hand on her swollen abdomen. She had fought it off for as long as she could, but Aziel was right. She could only find her answers on Parley. She could no longer escape her destiny. She had to go back. To save her child. “Hey,” Aziel smiled at her as she stepped off the boat. The child growing within Amadraya pushed up against the walls of its prison, desperate to escape and say hi to Aziel, not caring that it was causing its host all kinds of pain and discomfort in its attempts to be free. Aziel picked up Amadraya’s baggage and led her to the house where she would be staying. It was an old, abandoned church with a garden growing inside that cast a constant shadow. It was full of vines and footsteps belonging to no one. Amadraya would stay there alone, in the abandoned hotel right outside of the church, which was half eaten by ivy and the shadow of a nearby mountain. It was the perfect place. It was Aziel’s place. He knew better than anyone that if you cared for it, it would care for you. It would keep Amadraya and the child safe, well, as safe as they could be while on Parley. I love to hear from my readers and get their thoughts and suggestions on what prompts I should write about. Today's prompt was submitted by Richard Middleton.
Prompt: 6 Word Story Challenge
Prompt: I need a nightlight for my head. / For that's where the monsters hide. / They once were all beneath my bed, / But now they're all inside. / I hear them moving in my brain, / They won't let my thoughts be still. / They're immune to all my treatments, / All the medicines and pills. / I try to make them go to sleep, / When I lie down for the night, / But it's their favorite time to stomp around. / They won't turn off the light. / They find most joy in sorting, / My memories from years ago. / The ones I had carefully stored away, / In a box of "Things I wish I didn't know'. / These monsters up inside my head, / Will never really leave, / Until they dig up all the memories, / They're able to retrieve. / So I guess that I could fight them. / Or I could listen while they teach. / that the memories we can learn from most, / Are the ones we placed just out of reach. / These monsters can get tiring, / But they keep me company in my head, / And I think my thoughts would get lonely, / If they lived under my bed.
Once, When I was younger, The monsters lived beneath my bed. That's where they hid. Once, When I was younger, The monsters could be driven away With light. Put on a nightlight And everything would be fine. But that was When I was younger. Now That I've grown, The monsters have moved. They no longer live Underneath the bed. They live inside now. Roaming around my head. Refusing to be silenced Refusing to let My thoughts be still. They refuse to be quiet. They refuse to let me be. These monsters are immune To all my treatments. All the medicines The pills The happy thoughts And breathing techniques Do nothing for me now. They simply laugh And mock my pain. They laugh at my absurdity Thinking that I Could silence them. When I lie down for the night And try to get to sleep I try to turn them off But that's their favorite time to play. In the darkness And the silence Of the night Is when they are the loudest Screaming in my head, Telling me how Everything is wrong. In the silence Of the darkest night, My world crumbles around me. They poke at wounds, Both old and new. They sort through memories From years ago. he ones that I Had carefully boxed up And put away Kept hidden from the world The ones that I tried to hide From even myself, The ones that are labeled, 'Things I wish I didn't know', 'Things I wish to forget', 'Things I wish had never happened'. The monsters dance around Inside my head. Even when they are quiet, They never really leave. They are still there, Digging up memories, Retrieving them all, And dragging them out. Even in the silence, They are looking for ways To destroy me. I could continue to fight them, But these monsters Are just so tiring. I can't keep fighting. I'm so tired. And anyway, They keep me company Inside my head. At this point, I don't know Who I am without them, And I don't know What my thoughts would do, If these monsters Moved back Under my bed. Prompt: "Come on, aren't you a little old to have an imaginary friend?" He was right, but it seemed so real. "I guess..." "So maybe make some real friends, ones who don't have scaly skin and forked tongues." I stopped in my tracks. "I never told you what it looked like."
"Come on," Willowianna said. Even when she was condescending, she sounded like she was being seductive. "Aren't you a little old to have an imaginary friend?" She was right. He was too old for that. He should have gotten over this imaginary friend a long time ago, but it had come when Amadraya had left, as if it knew that he would need company with her gone. "I guess..." Aziel sighed as he nodded his head. A lot had happened since he created his imaginary friend. He shouldn't need it any longer. It was time to let it go. "So," Willowianna said. She placed her hand on his, and stroked his hand lovingly. "Maybe make some real friends," she encouraged. She cupped his face in her hand. "Ones who don't have scaly skin and forked tongues." Aziel froze and broke free from Willowianna's touch. "I never told you what it looked like," Aziel said. His mind was running a million miles a minute. The only way Willowianna would know what his imaginary friend looked like would be if she could see it too, which meant either she had created it for some reason, or it really wasn't imaginary and everyone else could see it too and had been lying to him about it. He didn't know which was worse. Prompt: Sometimes the worst place you can be is in your own head.
Depression is silent, It creeps up on you, Slowly, Little by little. You never hear it, You never see it. Until suddenly, It's the loudest voice Inside your head. It's screaming At the top of it's lungs. Refusing, To be ignored. Sometimes, The worst place, You can be, Is in Your own head. Prompt: Is that for me?
Brittany walked into the kitchen cautiously, ready for anything. "Hey," Aaron turned and smiled at her. His face looked like it had been battling with the flour and the kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. There was a lopsided cake on the counter that looked like a toddler had decorated it while it was still too warm. "Is that...." Brittany looked at the monstrosity in disgust, "For me?" She tried to wipe the look of disgust off of her face. She didn't want him to think that she didn't appreciate his effort. "Yeah," Aaron smiled. He looked so excited and happy to show off his cake. Brittany couldn't help but smile at his exuberance. She just hoped that it didn't taste as badly as it looked. Prompt: "Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it." - Stephi Wagner / For many of us, our generational "curse" is avoidance. We come from people who just act like 'it" didn't/doesn't happen. But pain demands to be felt. And somewhere along the line, a child will be born whose charge it is to feel it al. These are your shamans, your priests, and priestesses, your healers. You call them mental health patients and label their power as depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and the like. But these are the ones who are born with the gift of feeling. And as we all know, you can't heal the pain that you refuse to feel. / "It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to profoundly sick society." -Jiddu Krishnamurti
Pain travels through families, From generation to generation Until someone comes along to feel it. One day, A child is born, Whose charge it is To feel it all. They take it all on, All the pain, All the sorrow, Everything that has been ignored. Everything that has been buried, Ignored, Overlooked, Everything that has been refused to be felt. They feel it all. It is their mission. To feel the pain And heal their family. Prompt: Did you just take my picture?
Skye froze. Someone was watching her. She turned around. Kevin was standing right there, phone in hand. "Did you just take my picture?" she asked. He was looking far too guilty to just be walking beside her. "What?" Kevin asked in mock innocence. "You did!" Skye said, "Let me see it." "I did no such thing." Skye stole the phone from Kevin's hand and looked through it. "You did take my picture!" She looked revolting. "Don't delete it!" Kevin said. He knew exactly what she was about to do. He wasn't about to let her delete her photo. She looked absolutely perfect. Prompt: you hated your eye color, called it dull and dirty brown, wished for the deep blue of an ocean, where admirers hearts would drown. And it pained me to realize, you'd never see it like I do. The way your eyes hint at a story that I want to read right through . They hold specks of stolen sunlight that you'd miss with just one glance, and a depth or raw emotion that can freeze you in a trance. They're a fix of melted chocolate , when I'm craving something sweet. But hold a gaze that's so unwavering, that I find it hard to meet. I fall right down the rabbit hole, when I look into your eyes. The brown of earth's unfettered beauty, that I yearn to memorize. when I was tired of not belonging, they made me feel like I'd been found, and I hope you never say again, that your eyes are simply brown.
You never liked your eyes, Thought that they were dull and lifeless. Wished for something different, Wished that you could change. You wanted to get rid of A special part of you, Because toy couldn't see. You couldn't see the good, You couldn't see what I could see, The magic we see inside. |
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