I thought of giving my main characters a riddle wich goes pretty much like this.

homo confringet.
nostri salvare.
nanus interficiet eum.
Oblivisci monstrum

the meaning they see first is

the man will break it
the elf will save it
the dwarf will slay it
the monster forget it

and they fight the main villain, believing this is the true meaning, until one of them sees the second meaning

the man will break.
to save ours.
the dwarf will kill him.
the forgotten monster

and then they first think the dwarf (who is also the one described the most by the narrator) will betray his friends. They think, he is The Forgotten monster, but in the end it turns out the prophecy is made from the point of view of the villain, meaning the human will break to save the villain and the dwarf will kill him to fullfill the mission, wich makes the Human the forgotten monster and the one betraying while the dwarf did everything right. This whole prophecy thing leads to a idential crysis in the dwarf wich always saw himself as the hero and shapes the foundation of my book.

Sorry if this sounds a bit confusing, the idea is fresh and i didn't have time to really think about it.

what do you think? Would you read this?

In my oppnion there are three kinds of villains that a villain can form from.
the villain you hate to the guts
a villain that is just purely evil. no real backstory, no motives, just evil. A villain that you can not relate to, you can't understand why he does this. Imagine umbridge, just bing a bi*** for no reason.
the villain that you can not hate because you know what made him this way
a villain with a complete backstory full of sad and traumatizing events, being so well written that you can not really just hate him. Imagine darth vader. He is definitely the villain but you can't really hate him
the villain that is too cool to hate
a villain doing bad sh*t just for fun but being so invredibly cool you can't really hate him.
imagine darth maul. You know he's bad, but you just can't hate him
this is not what all villains are like. Most villains are combined versions of several styles.
i hope this helps you with writing your own villains. If you disagree, please let me know in the comments

so... i wrote this ending for my book, and i don't know if i should see therapist or if i am just fine

James entered the balcony, tears running down his face. Each step he was forced to do by the parasite drilled a pain in his mind. He knew what was gonna happen and he knew as well that he would not be able to save her this time. Adelaide stood on the balcony, enjoying the sunset and listening to the sounds of the forest that the light wind carried to her. It was a beautiful evening, but james knew it would't be anymore. Nopt after what he would do. His hands hung under the Handle of his Gun, but he knew he would not use it, neither would he use his sword. It required too much concentration. Too much effort, to use them properly and efficiently. The parasite was strong, but not that strong. Once again, adelaide prooved, what good of a student she was. She heard his steps and spun around. He could quite literally see her mind working and processing what she saw. The tears, the arms hangign low, the slow movement. And then, he saw that she recognised it. She understood. But it was already too late. James threw up his arms and pushed adelaide down the balcony. With one hand, she gripped the edge, but that would not last long.

I'm so sorry he said. Then the parasite took over once again and his foot slammed down on hew fingers. She lost grip and fell. All the moments he experienced with adelaide ran through james mind. The first time he saw her. The coronation. Every single training session. Every second of their journey. She was the woman he loved from the ground of his heart. The woman he wanted to grow old with. But he was never able to tell her, and now, there she was, falling the hundrets of meters, pushed down by him. The man she trusted. He closed his eyes and broke down. The parasite started to let loose of his mind. Its mission was done. The government was thrown over, the dutchess was dead. But even without this he would have known. He heard the crunching noise of her body hitting the floor. And in that moment, something changed. Now he was not the one being controlled anymore. He was the one controlling. He let his spirit break loose and covered the whole balcony in shadows, preventing the parasite from escaping. Then he took his sword, turned it upside down and pushed it in his stomach as strong as he could. If he had to die, he would at least take the parasite with him. Blood flowed out of his stomach and he curled up in pain. It was so ironic. He has been wounded so often, had witnessed so many people passing away, yet, this one final wound ending his life felt so different. He felt a numb feeling creeping up his body all the way from his stomach. He closed his eyes one final time and with his last breath he said

I'm coming to you.

With this final words he let the darkness take over. This was the end. A legendary queen and a mystic warrior. An empire wich lasted for centuries. A whole nation. It all fadet away with this last breath

what do you think?.

Look I've been wanting to continue I'm just waiting for something to come to my brain I just need something to happen to just spark the fire that will help me with this. https://www.wattpad.com/1330494286-a-spark-in-the-night-not-finished-help-needed-a

This is the tale of a boy who lost everything he had overnight, that boy is me. Nowadays I'm nothing but a panhandler, living off people's pity. I'm always alone and sleep on a hard, dog-bitten mattress. If you found this, I am DEAD, my neck is currently cold and hung up on a noose.

I still remember that day, it felt like tarmac stripes, separating both sides of my life. It was a saturday evening, mom was almost done making dinner, dad was watching his favorite cartoons on his computer, and i was finishing my calculus homework.

Mathematics was my favorite subject, one of the reasons for such love was my teacher, Robert Junior, he was always caring about his students and how they felt during class. If they were enjoying it or not, understanding it well, that sorta stuff.

When i got done with it, i decided to check if mom needed any help around the kitchen. I got up from my chair, and as i walked to my door, i felt an uneasy feeling, like something really bad was about to happen, something i would never forget. Back in elementary school my friends called me "assphet", it's a mix of the word "ass" and "prophet". That's because i always had a kind of "spider-sense", if I felt like something bad was going to happen, most of the time it really did.

I got scared, was that just my mind playing tricks with me? "I'm just tired from the homework" I thought. "Yeah that's right!".

Just before i got the chance to touch the door knob, I heard the windows breaking, and mom's lousy blender had gone quiet. My heart skipped a beat, and a cold feeling of despair ran through every inch of my now shaky body. Dad started screaming, something I've never heard before, he was always so courageous and bold, like he could take over the world with his bare fists.

I immediately locked my door. No way a scrawny kid like me would be capable of facing such thing. Heck, couldn't even stand up against my bullies.

Pondering about it with a more grown up mind, I'm not sure locking that door was the clever thing. Perhaps i should have tried to sneak out of the house while the trespasser dealt with my dad, or perhaps I should've been nobler and helped him. All i know is that it doesn't matter anymore, nothing will bring my father back.

*story got a bit too long, may or may not continue*

In a distant corner of the galaxy, there existed a planet called Capybara. The planet was home to a race of intelligent and peaceful capybaras, who had mastered the art of space travel and exploration. They had lived in peace for centuries, studying the stars and the mysteries of the cosmos.

One day, the capybaras received a distress signal from a neighboring planet. The signal was from a group of friendly aliens, who had been attacked by a group of space crocodiles. The capybaras knew they had to help their friends and quickly mobilized their fleet to rescue them.

When they arrived at the planet, they were met with a fierce resistance from the space crocodiles. The crocodiles were well-trained in combat, and they had powerful weapons that could easily take down the capybaras' ships. The battle was intense, with ships exploding left and right, laser blasts filling the sky, and the cries of the wounded filling the air.

Despite their best efforts, the capybaras were unable to overcome the overwhelming firepower of the space crocodiles. One by one, their ships were destroyed, and the capybaras were forced to retreat. They returned to their home planet, bruised and battered, but determined to find a way to defeat the space crocodiles.

The capybaras spent months analyzing the battle and the tactics of the space crocodiles. They tried every possible strategy, but nothing seemed to work. The space crocodiles were simply too powerful, too well-equipped, and too cunning.

Desperate for a solution, the capybaras turned to an ancient legend. According to the legend, there was a powerful weapon hidden deep in the heart of the Capybara system. The weapon was said to be capable of destroying entire fleets of ships in a single blow. The capybaras knew it was a risky move, but they had no other choice. They had to retrieve the weapon and use it against the space crocodiles.

The journey to the heart of the Capybara system was treacherous and dangerous. The capybaras faced deadly asteroid fields, black holes, and other hazards. But finally, they arrived at their destination and found the weapon.

The capybaras quickly realized their mistake. The weapon was far more powerful than they had anticipated. When they activated it, it created a massive shockwave that destroyed everything in its path, including the capybaras themselves. The space crocodiles, watching from a distance, were shocked but also thrilled with their victory.

The capybaras had made the ultimate sacrifice to try and defeat the space crocodiles. But in the end, their efforts were in vain, and the space crocodiles emerged victorious. The galaxy would never forget the bravery of the capybaras, who had fought valiantly against an enemy that was far too strong for them.

In the dark and mysterious forests of Brazil, there was a capybara named Max who worked for the Federal Bureau of Rodentia (FBR). Max was a master of the water gun, and he was known for his precision and accuracy when taking down the most dangerous animal criminals.

One day, Max received a mission from the FBR that was unlike any he had ever encountered before. A group of jaguars and tigers had stolen a priceless artifact from a museum, and they were holding it deep in the jungle. But the twist was that they had surrounded themselves with a ring of deadly snakes, making it nearly impossible for anyone to get close to them.

Max knew he had to use all of his skills to complete this mission. He gathered his gear - a water gun loaded with a special blend of water and chilli oil, a pair of night-vision goggles, and a pouch of snakes. He set out into the forest, his heart racing with excitement and fear.

As Max approached the jaguar and tiger hideout, he could hear the hiss and rattle of the snakes. But Max was undaunted - he knew he had to think outside the box to complete this mission.

Max quickly sprayed the snakes with his water gun, causing them to flee in terror. He then reached into his pouch of snakes and began throwing them at the jaguars and tigers, causing chaos and confusion.

With the jaguars and tigers distracted, Max charged forward, his water gun blazing. He dodged their attacks and fired his water gun with deadly accuracy, hitting them with the chilli oil mixture and taking them down one by one.

Finally, Max reached the stolen artifact. He carefully picked it up and made his way out of the hideout, dodging the last of the snakes that tried to stop him.

As Max emerged from the jungle, he was greeted by the cheers of his fellow FBR agents. They congratulated him on a job well done, and Max smiled, knowing that he had once again proven himself as the greatest capybara agent in all of Brazil.

Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean.

Once upon a time, in the lush and mystical Amazon rainforest, there lived a tribe of capybaras unlike any other. They were fierce and daring, with a sense of adventure that would rival even the greatest pirates of the Caribbean.

Led by their brave captain, Capy Jack Sparrow, they sailed the treacherous waters of the Amazon, raiding ships and looting their treasures. They were the most feared and notorious band of pirates in all of South America.

But their lives took a dark turn when they stumbled upon a cursed treasure, buried deep in the heart of the jungle. The treasure had been hidden there by a powerful shaman, who had warned that whoever disturbed it would face a terrible fate.

Ignoring the warnings, Capy Jack and his crew dug up the treasure, eager to lay their hands on its riches. But as soon as they did, a dark shadow fell upon them, and a fierce storm erupted, with winds that howled like the souls of the damned.

As the storm raged on, the crew began to feel the effects of the curse. They transformed into strange, half-pirate, half-capybara creatures, with the ability to speak in both human and animal tongues.

But the curse was not the worst of their problems. For they soon realized that they were being hunted by a band of ruthless hunters, who had heard of their cursed treasure and were determined to capture them and claim it for themselves.

In a thrilling battle, the capybara pirates fought with all their might, using their newfound abilities to outmaneuver and outsmart their enemies. They were aided by a strange creature that emerged from the jungle, a creature that was half-man, half-capybara, and seemed to possess mystical powers.

With the hunters vanquished and their cursed treasure secured, the capybara pirates set sail once more, with a newfound sense of purpose and a hunger for adventure. They knew that their lives would never be the same again, but they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

And so, the capybara pirates sailed off into the unknown, their ship loaded with treasure, their hearts filled with courage and determination. For they knew that they had become something more than just pirates, something more than just capybaras. They had become legends, living on in the stories and myths of the Amazon rainforest, forevermore.

In the year 1500, in the ancient city of Olympia, the world saw a most curious event. A gathering of capybaras, large and imposing rodents, had come from far-flung corners of the world to compete in a spectacle of strength and agility. These creatures, known for their gentle nature and calm demeanor, were now putting their abilities to the test in a way that few had ever seen before.

The sun beat down on the amphitheater, casting long shadows across the grassy arena. The capybaras emerged from their cages, sleek brown fur shining in the light. They were magnificent beasts, standing nearly three feet tall at the shoulder and weighing over a hundred pounds. Their handlers, who had trained them for months, looked on with pride as the competition began.

The first event was a race around the track, and the capybaras took off with surprising speed. Some stumbled and fell, while others surged ahead, their powerful legs carrying them effortlessly over the terrain. The crowd held its breath as they watched, cheering wildly as a capybara from the rainforests of South America crossed the finish line first, victorious in this first trial.

Next up was a test of strength, in which the capybaras had to push a boulder up a steep incline. The boulder was nearly as large as the capybaras themselves, but they attacked it with fierce determination, their powerful jaws and muscular bodies straining against the weight. The capybaras from Africa and Asia put in their best efforts, but it was the capybara from South America who emerged triumphant, pushing the boulder to the top of the hill with a mighty heave.

The final event was a wrestling match, a test of brute force and cunning. The capybaras faced off against each other, grappling and snarling in a display of raw power. It was a savage and exhilarating sight to behold. In the end, it was a capybara from Africa who emerged as the champion, having defeated his opponents with a series of deft moves and powerful blows.

As the competition drew to a close, the capybaras gathered together in a circle, heads bowed in respect for each other's strength and skill. They had come from all corners of the world, and they had proven themselves to be worthy competitors, united in their love of the challenge and their desire to succeed. The handlers looked on with pride and admiration, knowing that their capybaras had made history, as the first of their kind to compete at the ancient city of Olympia.

And so, as the sun began to set on the day's events, the capybaras returned to their cages, their victory secured, their place in history assured. They had fought hard and competed with honor, and in doing so, they had shown the world that there was more to these gentle creatures than met the eye.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there was a great race to determine the fastest animal in the kingdom. The usual suspects - the cheetah, the hare, and the gazelle - had all come forward, eager to prove their speed and agility. But in the midst of all these familiar faces, there was one contestant who stood out: a capybara.

The capybara was not what you would call a traditionally fast animal. It was large and bulky, with a body that was better suited to swimming than running. But there was a glint in the capybara's eye, a fierce determination that belied its placid exterior. It was clear that this creature was not to be underestimated.

The race began, and the capybara set off at a leisurely pace, letting the other animals take the lead. The crowd laughed and jeered, certain that this would be a short-lived effort. But as the race wore on, something strange began to happen.

The capybara merely smiled and, began to spray them with water from its mouth.Water got into the eyes and slows down the animals. And the capybara made its way to the first place.

The crowd was stunned. They had never seen anything like it. The capybara, who had seemed like such an unlikely contender, had emerged as the clear winner of the race. And as it crossed the finish line, triumphant and breathless, the capybara looked up at the crowd with a glint of satisfaction in its eye.

If you're looking for an excuse not to write, here it is: a bookishly awesome documentary about indie bookstores. Here's the synopsis

While living out of his car during the pandemic, an Amazon-loving author filmed his journey to over 100 independent bookstores around the country, asking booksellers a simple question: why should we shop indie?

Entitled “The Bookstour”, this 30-minute documentary follows a road-tripping author's transformation from Amazon diehard to indie advocate.

You can preorder the film now at TheBookstourFilm.com. Every penny goes to the Book Industry Charitable Foundation :)

It's like starting from a blank canvas and expecting to create something magnificently perfect.

It won't be perfect, that is what I need to accept. But atleast it will be mine.

For us, it was love at first sight.

When the owner of the flat next to mine decided to rent it, I was a bit unhappy, thinking who knows what kind of creep would come to live there! But soon, I realized that renting the flat was the best idea that the old, irritating owner could ever have. Because he moved in it.

His name was Akash. And I’m Dharati; we’re so meant for each other. Akash was almost six-feet tall and had a tattoo of his name and a heart on his right arm. How would I love to see my name next to it? He had a strict gym routine; I bet he has six-packs under his t-shirt.

Every day, he would come back from his gym and that’s when I would open my door, pretending to collect newspaper and milk from my doormat. But, never once he paid any attention to me. He would just stand there, looking at my door for a second and go inside his flat. But, I didn’t give up. Every day, when he would go out or come back from the office, I made sure to open my door and wait for him to notice me. But, he never once looked at me. He behaved as if I never existed for him.

It was Diwali and he brought gifts for every family on our floor. He rang everyone’s doorbell, talked with them for a minute or two, gave them a box of sweets, and moved on to next door. This was my chance to introduce myself. So, I waited patiently for him to come. Eventually, he came in front of my flat, played with the doorknob for some reason; tried to open it for two-three times, and left without buzzing my doorbell. That broke my heart. What on earth had I ever done to deserve this?

Though I was hurt, I consoled myself, saying that maybe he’s shy, maybe he feels awkward around girls. I decided that I should make more effort. Maybe I should convey that he needn’t have to be so formal.

But one night, he came home late. I was watching through the peephole of my door and saw a girl with him. I could see that they were drunk. Maybe she’s family, I said to myself. But, when I cracked the door open and saw him kissing her.

Furiously, I banged the door shut. I could hear them talking outside.

“Akash, what was that sound?”

“Ah, babe just ignore. It’s the door. There’s something wrong with it. Opens and closes on its own.”

“Who lives there?”

“I guess no one. It’s been empty for years. Ignore it, I do. Let’s go inside.”

That night I could not sleep at all. What did he even saw in that slut? What does she has that I don’t? Why does he notice her and never me? But, I decided that I must not give up and should let him know how deeply I loved him.

In pursuit of that, one night when he was still in his office, I unlocked his door and sneaked inside. At around midnight, I heard the door open, he threw his laptop bag on the sofa and headed straight to have a quick shower. I decided to wait for him on his bed; I thought how glad he would be seeing me on his bed. But, when he dried himself and changed into his pajamas, he got under the blankets and slept right beside me, without even taking a glance at me. Within a few minutes, he was snoring.

This made me mad as anything. I didn’t deserve this. He just can’t treat me like this anymore. All my love for him turned into vicious hatred. I got up from the bed and brought back a knife from the kitchen. He was still snoring, his arms rested at both sides. I could see his tattoo, Akash and little heart next to it. I took the knife and started to carve letters of my name next to the heart, thinking this would get his attention.

In the morning, I was in my flat, peeking through the peephole and he was right beside me, not ignoring me anymore.

“Now we would be together, forever and ever,” I said to him, watching police take away his body. They declared that it was suicide and thought that he carved his lover’s name on his hand before dying. Akash ♥ Dharati.  

I have been trying to do the perfect youtube script for an educational video so i need some opinions on it. I cannot afford to pay anyone but some help would be really nice. Thank you

This is taken from my blog I recently started. Just want to share.

Room 06: Nelly

I hadn’t known Nelly for very long, I’d only just started working in the dementia wing. I helped her in the shower a few times, so I knew a few things about her: Nelly was forgetful (duh, she had dementia, but I mean forgetful in a way that I knew Nelly left the oven on in her twenties, or the door unlocked); Nelly was a punk, she left her grey hair long where the majority chops and perms it; Nelly was easy going; Nelly could never be bother ‘bout nothing.“Nelly!” I’d raise my tone in disappointment, “We’re almost there! We’re so close to bathroom, we’re right by the door!”Nelly reaches out for a chair anyway and throws her body in it, half her palm to her face, “Ugh, I can’t, I can’t.”“Okay, we’ll take a five minute breather.” I make her bed.…five minutes later…“Ok! You ready?!”“Ready for what?! What are you going to do to me?!”“You said you wanted a shower? You’re going to take a shower?”“Oh please!” She grunts, “I never said that.”She’s not arguing, she’s actually remembering she did actually say that. Nelly never really spoke closely to anyone, she remained aloof and observant. I was shocked that moment I realised it was Nelly tugging at my sleeve, trying to get my attention.“Nelly?! What’s wrong.” Obviously something, I turn to her quickly.“Excuse me Miss, excuse me,” Nelly leans in and lowers her voice suspiciously, “when will be getting the death needle?”I was terrified, I was new in aged care and I was terrified of the answer I had in my head. I understood what she meant.When someone enters palliative phase (or end-of-life, or in some parts of the world ‘The Liverpool Pathway’ or terminal stage, or just plain actively dying…) there are steps we take:Do not feed the birds! Do not medicate the birds with anything other than pain relief! Do not give the birds a glass of water! Do not get the birds out of bed! Start morphine, start repositioning.This sounds like euthanasia to a lot of you out there, and a lot of us in here believe it’s euthanasia too. “It’s a greeeeyyyy area” they might hush, “they just need a little push”. Well. Bitch. Be Humble. Sit Down. (lamar:2017). Let me correct you.End food because they haven’t eaten for weeks anyway, they aspirate, vomit it up if they manage to swallow, they hold their mouths shut when we try to fly a jet into a tunnel. If we even succeed to get food in their mouths, the food pools up above at the entrance of their oesophagus and if we’re not careful they’re going to choke.            End medication because they’re not awake enough or capable of swallowing pills, and even if there was a pill they could swallow they’re not going to come back from this and apply for jobs. End water because they can’t drink it. Give morphine for pain.Nurses know morphine slows the respiration rate. It’s easy to conclude we are literally stealing last breaths from the air poor. I believed this too, that their comas were all medicated, drug induced, until I saw dying people not on morphine look exactly like dying people on morphine, only in pain: They enter a coma and even though their eyes are shut they’re just just open enough to view the iris turn milky and dusty from never blinking; they’re sleeping but they’re chasing cars, groaning, reaching side to side, desperate, shouting ‘UH UH!’, tossing their heads side to side along to their rapid, gasping Cheyne-Stoking. All most of us want is to die peacefully in our sleep, and the room is filling up with water.A nurse who injects the last 2.5ml of standard grade morphine an hour before time of death is not a killer. 2.5ml of morphine will not kill a body that is not dying soon anyway. Dying is not surprisingly painful sometimes, and a nurse reacts to symptoms. And to all the nurses who say that they gave them the shot “that gave them the little push they needed”, get off your horse, you are not some anointed angel of death and if you keep thinking that way you’ll turn cold and hard like the rest of them.But yes. Nelly and the Death Needle is on stage and she’s talking right now. Let’s listen.“Well?!” She pats her knee impatiently, “Am I next? Can I please be next?”“There is no death needle.” I’m not convincing anybody.“Come on! That’s what we’re all sitting around here bloody waiting for, isn’t it?” Nelly waves her arms side to side, making me look at the room, it looks like a waiting room and everyone’s been waiting here so long they’ve shrunk and creased and greyed.“I’ll get you a cup of tea.” I walk away disturbed and sad that Nelly wouldn’t be getting the death needle still for a long time.Nelly was onto it though, she got the death needle two weeks later. She sensed it eleven days before the rest of us. Nelly deteriorated rapidly one day. Resting in her death bed cocooned by her family, still waiting on the pharmacy courier for her death needle, she called for a nurse.“I need to go,” Nelly whispered discretely, “like go go.”The carer across from me is not so tactful, “OH! You want a bedpan?! Oohh.” The family look at us worried like we’re going to make them watch.“We’ll call when we’re done.”Ten minutes pass with Nelly laying on a bedpan. “I swear I want to pee, I know it’s going to come out!” Nelly is worried now, she doesn’t want a last memory of her to be a promise as empty as a bedpan.“Nelly.” I say in my lets-get-real-voice. “Did you just want some peace?”“Yes” she releases “I just wanted some peace and quiet.”Her family were stressed, they didn’t see what nobody saw except Nelly. They weren’t acting ready. Nelly got a one shot of morphine in the evening and died in the middle of the night, peacefully, surrounded by family, and I will always believe in the light people say they saw before they died. I hope you do, too, or even just a little bit more now.  Painted Lampshade 

I used to write daily as a kid but I have ignored it for ages. Since last year I decided to make a blog to motivate me to write more than I have and eventually as much as I should.

It would be great to get some feedback.

Thank you. Fuckorigami.com

"Can I look into your eyes, Medusa?"

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because I love you too."

"Then let me see your eyes, your face."

"But..."

"Don't worry, whatever happens to me, love is blind. I maybe gone, but my love for you will always be here."

"I am scared."

"Trust me."

"W-why..."

"Why I don't turn into a stone? It's because you see me not by your eyes but by your heart."

TGIF. I know, I know. Such abbreviations have ruined the beautiful language. But, that’s what crossed mind. I type the remaining code, send it for review, and head straight to the door. The Book Café. The name pops in my mind and I ride toward it without thinking twice. After living in the city for nearly a decade, the place has become my second home. The owner, Sandesh, knows me well; he knows where I like to sit and how I like my coffee. More importantly, he knows that I don’t like to get disturbed. I throw myself on a chair, Sandesh smiles at me, and immediately head toward the kitchen to brew my coffee. I open my little purse and grab my book, The kite runner. Finally, I can read without interruptions, I think to myself. I open the chapter where I had placed a bus ticket as a bookmark and let myself loose in the messed-up world of Amir.

Within seconds, I travel to Pakistan, sit beside Amir in the car, and lose every sense of reality. After half an hour, Sandesh brings a small piece of cake and place it on the table quietly. I look up at him and without letting me speak a word, he says, “I know you didn’t ask for it. That guy offered a slice of his order.” I look across the room and find a guy smiling at me. He moves his arms to show me the book he’s been reading. He’s reading The Kite Runner too. I smile, mouth thank you, and get back to my book.

A few minutes pass by and a paper plane hits my nose and drops in my lap. I pick it up and open its folds. Which chapter? I read and look at him with a smile. I write down 19 and throw the plane toward him. He catches it before it lands somewhere else.

Is this romantic? my brain starts its Q&A session. Get over it. He’s just trying to be cute–and clearly–flirting with you. Don’t fall for his trick. Well, you already replied to him, you’re in this now. Maybe he’s just friendly and just wants to be nice. There’s no need to overthink. Of course, you have to think about this. What if he comes over here to talk to you? Kavya, you came here to get away from people and not to plan a date with some random guys. Woah, woah, woah, what if he really asks for a date? Don’t worry, if things get out of hands, you’ll throw the I-have-a-boyfriend line and get the hell out of here.

The paper plane makes its second landing, this time it lands right on top of my table. I open it. Reading for the first time? I write, “Yes. Don’t give any spoilers. What about you?” I throw the plane back at him and watch him open it. He smiles, scribbles something in it, and throws the plane back at me. DW I won’t spoil it. I’ve read it so many times that I’ve lost count. Go on, read. I don’t want to disrupt you. I smile at him and get back to the book. I read the lines over and over, but I know I won’t read a word after this. The brain starts to do its thing again.

See, Kavya, he’s just being nice. He’s not interested in anything else. Go back to reading, this thing ends here. Go on, read, Kavya read. Is he looking at me? Don’t, don’t look at him. But what if he’s looking at me. Do I look nice right now? Who cares? You are NOT interested in him. You don’t play such games. You’ve come here to read and you’re gonna do exactly that, okay? Okay! Back to Amir Jaan. I read the line again and somehow the words make sense again. I get back to the world of Amir and the writing makes me forget the real world.

After an hour or so, I feel a shadow over me and I look up. I see the guy standing in front of me and staring down at me with a faint smile. He hands me a bundle of tissue paper and says, “You’re gonna need it. It was nice meeting you”. Without waiting for my reply, he heads out of the door.

Didn’t I tell you! He was a perfect gentleman. He was a reader, just like you. Tonight, he just happens to appreciate that you both were reading the same novel. He had no agenda in his mind. It’s a shame though, it would have been nice to know him more, like his number of something. Hold it there, Kavya. For what do you need his number? Well, if I want to exchange books or something. Who am I kidding! Admit it Kavya, he was cute and it would have been nice to know him more.

Alas, I stop the train of thoughts and look down at the bundle and I spot a paper plane coming out of it. I remove it from the bundle, open its folds, and a grin spreads across my face.

“If you want to exchange books or something, 94492623831”.

Warnings: — English is not my first language! — It's also a myth about Earth's creation

It's exactly how I feel/felt and he did not reciprocate my signs of affection, didn't care about my feelings and was cold and stupid. So here it goes!

"A long, long time ago, when life as it is was nothing but a futuristic prediction, there were two beings: Akvena and Anvro

Akvena, smart and tempestuous, looked at the world around her and felt she was not enough, not being able to understand her beauty, an intense light that captivated so many stars above. She loved words antique conjugations yet so weird, and was as free as the wind's whisper. Akvena wanted to find an existence that could calm down her so troubled interiors, but so insecure as she was, she let her immense power go away until it couldn't even be noticed.

At a certain day, walking by a meadow, she felt something. A brief presence just like hers. Immediately, she was alert, because how in the world would there be anything that could complete her Sun? Then she saw Antro. In her head, he was moonlight. Serene but beautiful, he looked like just what she needed. Anvro and Akvena, opposites so alike, fell in love. Her so cold spirit was set on fire again and she felt alive. Her fears were shut and she spinned day and night, with her head in the clouds, an open and shiny smile on her face. When the Sun went down, the girl told him about how much she loved him, her words fast and whispered, almost inaudible. She only wanted him to know that her so wild and fierce her was his and his only. At the beginning, he was as fire as her embers. And that made her so, so happy. Finally someone appreciated her exterior. She was desired.

But Anvro, cold as the ice that used to habitate Akvena's heart, started to change. The girl still sang melodies to her loved one, even when she felt like breaking. For a long time she has given, given and given love, receiving only some attentions. They broke and made up, traveled, but even then, at dawn, Akvena found herself inside Anvro's embrace. He was her safe place, maybe. A way of her to see that she was worth it.

Enough, enough, enough. This was the sound that lived inside her. She couldn't do that. No, not when she was so destructive, so different from what lived around her. But the forces that accomplished her told her he wasn't enough for what lived inside her.

Akvena set herself free. Breaking, breaking, breaking. She cried for centuries, rains and lakes and rivers and seas. She screamed, lighting and thunder and energy. And suddenly she stopped. And noticed that all her pain had created a home. A home filled with beauty, even with so many imperfections. She beamed, feeling her light growing again. The girl realized that so many lives could live there, if she allowed it.

And so she did."

I was thinking about writing but not sure how it is. I mean I need some kind of critic to make me better at writing and not only writing but also different tips and suggestions for improvement. So where do I start from?

My sentencing was today. I was ready. I was just. So tired. My mother had been nitpicking over my dress and hair and this and that. It was all so trivial. Who cared how I looked? It had nothing to do with my verdict. Yet that's all anyone cared about.

"Oh wear your hair in a bun, you'll look more professional."

"You should wear some fake glasses, I hear it makes you look sympathetic."

All this focus on the least significant aspect of the hearing. How I looked.

Did no one care I was in trouble? Did anyone have any suggestions for arguments? Why is how I look more important than what I say?

"You look nice." The receptionist said as I checked in, well aware I was absolutely screwed. How does someone even do that job? Receptionist at disciplinary hearings? It's almost as bad as working at the DMV. Must take a real soul starved bitch to take that job.

The hearing room was small. Not the lavish courtyard I had in mind. Old men in suits and robes droned on as I waited for my turn to talk. I was so tired. I couldn't even focus on their words. I just wanted to leave and get the coffee I would be crying into. Consequences were mentioned. Jailtime. Fines. Community services. So standard. So little variety. Why not make maroon me on an island? Amputate a finger? Fuck just give me something to be interested in.

Four years in a federal prison, one thousand hours of community services, and a $100,000 fine. Yikes. That's exactly not what I'm talking about.

I was to turn myself into jail in one week's time, in order to get my affairs in order. My mom weeped. My primmed hair and glasses didn't do the magic she thought they would. Stupid.

The next week was just a blur. People acted like it wasn't happening. We had family dinner's like everything was fucking normal. I hated her. I hated everything. I hated myself more.

He wasn't dead because of me. He was dead because of himself. Of his own pride. Of his own wrath. I was just the only one who resisted. My pants were still on when we fell. The state concluded it wasn't one-hundred percent an attempted rape. Bullshit. I told them. It was bullshit. He had been asking me to go home with him all night. He had followed me into the dark when I left. His friends had distracted my friends as he talked to me. We edged into an alleyway as he dominantly kept me from leaving. His hands had just touched my shoulder when I pushed him. It had been raining. A small puddle covered the concrete where he fell. I screamed. His friends heard. A cop heard. And he ran to me. The last thing I remember was the sound of his head crunching as I stomped on it. His blood sprayed my skirt. The skirt he had been trying to take. The cops didn't believe me. The court didn't either.
"But he was a good boy." They said.

"But he was a good football player," They said.

He wasn't a very good rapist.

​

The wind makes the most peculiar sound

when it blows through the hole where my heart used to be

So I try to cover it up with my clothes

But the cloth blows inside, and it suffocates me

With each passing year the note grows more familiar

It rings through my ears, to the back of my mind

Where it sits and lies dormant til the wind blows once more

And reminds me of things that I'll never find

Forward: This writing is not intended to tell a story so much as paint a narrative. I'm not sure how I would categorize it. Flow of consciousness, maybe? Monologue? Hard to say without knowing a lot more about writing than I do. But I figured it would be a good idea to flex the writing muscle in the downtime throughout my work day and see what anyone thought.

He stood behind the counter of the well trafficked liquor store wondering what the difference between a small town and village was and whose job it was to make such classifications. In his mind, this was a village. He knew most of the regulars and the preferred poisons, and knew that the locals took immediate suspicion to new people and newer ideas. By the feel of the place, it was a village. But there were a lot of people for a village. A lot of people, and not a lot of jobs. A low cost of living and nearby beaches heralded as the most beautiful in the country made the town appealing to folks from up north, but the lack of jobs meant the only viable way to move here was in retirement.

He tended to like the people from up north better than the locals. The locals had all lived hard lives. Partially by choice, and partially by lack of education. Literacy rates were low and sobriety rates were lower still on the average day. A chalk sign reading "You're not drunk until you have to grab onto the grass to keep from falling off the Earth" had pre-dated his presence in the store. Yet daily locals with memory deficits would notice the sign for the first and try to read it aloud in a great test of both sobriety and public education.

By and large, he didn't really care whether or not someone was sober while they were in his store, so long as they hadn't driven themselves to or fro. By and large, he didn't judge anyone for their coping mechanisms or self medication, even though his heart often felt saddened by the thirty years of artificial aging worn on the faces of some of the heavier drug users who stopped in from time to time. He only ever dealt with adults, and they had every right to make whatever regrettable decisions they chose to make. Additionally, he reasoned, they probably had lead far more interesting lives than he had by means of their willingness to make such terrible decisions.

His ability to workshop cause and effect kept him away from unnecessary risks. It kept him safe, but it also often kept him at home. He hadn't really drank prior to getting his job at the liquor store, save for the occasional gin and tonic mid-flight or during a business meeting, but those had been more profitable times. Happier times, when he still thought she loved him. He tried not to think about those times.

Obvious answers welcome ;)

Spent the past week making https://writedaily.co only to find out this subreddit exists with the same exact name and a very similar premise. I had a good laugh. Check us out if you so wish; I would love feedback of any kind.

Before I get started, I would like to let you know that English is not my native language and I still got a lot to learn. Main point for writing everyday for me is to improve and most of all, correct any grammatical mistakes I make whilst writing. I would appreciate it if you guys can help me correct or recommend me alternative usage of words that fits in my writing properly. Critics are always welcome Thank You

Feb 4th, 3:30 Am in the morning – it is way past my bed time, yet the word or act of sleep is nowhere near my scope. Instead, my mind is focused on survival, to find and hunt for prey. Luckily enough, I was able to find some beauties earlier that will be able to sate me in case the hunting fails. My mind floats away as I glare at them within their box. My most basic instinct, hunger, kicks in but, these are not enough to satisfy my desire thus the search continues. My eyes, as dry as sponge, scrape off corals which found their home under my eyelids followed by excruciating pain every time I close them. No pain, no gain… I shall continue my search but oh my….my eyes are heavier than a rock……

7:00 AM – BEEP – BEEP – BEEP - “Oh no, its 7 already? Did I fall asleep again?” My illy rested brain, but rested non the less, forces itself awake to find the beauties sitting nicely and tightly within their box. The emotion of failure swept through my mind as I realize my failed search attempt last night. Maybe this is what my ancestors may have felt when they lost tract of food. This emotional breakdown struck me in waves after another. The moment I try to muster up some optimism and hope, they were swept away like a mini sand castle by the wave of primal instinct, fear. I had to move or this emotion will eat me up alive, there are still three choices left. Slightest move of my head cracked the eerie silence of my comfortably confined rectangular room. “Ohhhhhhh ouch ouch ouch…….” Painful but there were no time to waste or be overwhelmed. I hurriedly dragged the cursor to where I always wanted it to be. Click ‘purchase’ and ‘proceed’ to ‘confirmation.’ “Ahhh……”. My desire is finally fulfilled…until the box of text that writes “Here are some Items you might like” appeared

500 R.T.

The First One.

I have watched three times in my life, as my family has been humiliated by the forces which control the world. My son, Jang has a unique heavenly perspective of the world. He understands how the beast of the field grow and prosper. He spends time with the beast every day. Human interaction is difficult for him, but animals come naturally. Jang returned to the house some thirty years ago. He brought with him a void panther. Void panthers are mythos level magic beasts with the ability to strike fear into the hearts of the royal guard. This void panther was only a baby. Jang told me the panther jumped into this world on accident.

In conversation, Jang began to reveal fundamental truths of the Void Panthers. As though he could comprehend what was taking place in the panther’s body and soul, Jang described everything to me. This information was unfathomably deep, but it was also easy to emulate with the help of Ping, my first daughter. I began to practice in the ways of the Void Panther. My cultivation rose quickly, and after five years without negative side effects, I passed my knowledge on to my children. It should be noted here that because of a war from when I was a young man, I became one of only three men in my generation. In my life, I only had one wife who died after gifting me with Jang and Ping. I had a duty to this town though, and many of the children who live here are my children, though they know me as Mayor and not father. Of course, I spread my void panther knowledge to all people in this village as a kind mayor who desires to help his little village prosper.

The Xaio Family which has chosen to sit at the top of the valley where they have learned to hunt in the great forest of beast and trade with the forces above also were given the Void Panther technique. It seems one of my grandsons became cocky with this new cultivation method, and after a year of cultivating, he entered the martial tournament of the Xaio Families major trade partner. He won his generations section overwhelmingly. As the Xaio Family celebrated their newfound power and prepared to move to the nearby town and cease their hunter lifestyle, they were attacked in the middle of the night. The leaders of the other family were too threatened by this fledgling cultivation style which allowed a first-year student to best their most promising students. The Xaio family is no more. The village, seeing this complete annihilation lied through their teeth when asked about the origin of this cultivation method.

Young Jang raised the Void Panther, but when the creature was a juvenile, it jumped back into its original realm, and we have not seen it since. Jang didn't mind. One day, with a far-off look in his eyes, he journeyed into the world again. Some years later, Jang appeared again. This time Jang arrived with a litter of Ancient Pangolin. Jang once again detailed in full what happened in the body and soul of the Pangolin during the creatures innate cultivation. The most intriguing part was the mind of the Pangolin which seemed to be connected to the creature’s soul in a unique manner. These newborn pangolins had the capability to call upon ancestral knowledge. Most creatures have a depth of instinct which they can access. Faced with eating poison, they will know to avoid eating certain plants for example. These Ancient pangolins, on the other hand, could recall information at will and in detail. Jang proved this to me a few years later when he was rearing his second litter of the creatures. He had developed an elaborate maze for the first generation of creatures. It took the first generation over two weeks to exit the maze Jang had constructed. The second Litter was placed in this maze, and they exited half a day later never having made a single mistake. The biggest stipulation to the Ancient Pangolin's knowledge was that they could only recall information from ancestors. To put it bluntly, they only had knowledge of the dead.

Ah, up until this time, I have mentioned Jang who seems to have an uncanny knowledge of the inner working of animals he is faced with, but if only briefly mentioned Ping. My daughter, Ping, has an uncanny understanding of cultivation methods. She has a sense which tells her about the power and strength of a cultivation method and also has the ability to see various methods to improve cultivation techniques. I told her about the Pangolin, and she immediately began to synthesize the Ancient Pangolin’s Cultivation Method with the Void Panther Cultivation Method. If the Void Panther was the Body of the Cultivation, the Pangolin would be the mind of the cultivation.

My brother is a Pharmacist who lives some leagues away from me. If anyone should benefit from knowledge-based recall, it would be his family. I traveled there with Ping, and we taught them the Ancient Pangolin Cultivation Method. My brother, who sadly passed away after practicing the cultivation method of the Ancient Pangolin for a short time did not benefit from this method, but his children and grandchildren saw immediate benefits. My grand nephews and nieces suddenly had the knowledge of my brother who is over 60 years old. Overnight they were acclaimed as geniuses at the academy.

My brother’s family only lasted two years after this event. It seems that once again, someone was threatened by new geniuses from hick towns. I bitterly wept when I received the news that bandits had been paid a hefty sum to eliminate my brother. Ping and Jang were terrified of the future. They had brought into existence two techniques which had devastated those they were close to. Ping and Jang, children of my first wife, a stunning beauty from far off lands, urged me to make up an excuse and leave the valley at once.

We traveled for fifteen years, and I became an old man. Even the cultivation techniques which I had learned late in life did not strengthen me against the wear of time. Maybe that was for the best, I was tired after all. We returned to the valley and found a whole new group of people living there. They were not my descendants, they were the children of the neighboring town. I discovered that ten years ago, everyone in my village disappeared overnight. We traveled again. It was too bitter to stay in a place where the family had once abounded. I did not know why or how they were destroyed, only that they were no longer with us.

As we entered what once we considered a rival kingdom, we decided to settle into a small hamlet. Ping found a man who was at least twenty years younger than she was, though her appearance made her seem as though she was the younger of the pair, and we assimilated into the daily life of the village. One day I woke in the night and watched Jang wander off with a haze in his eyes. It reminded me of his look the day before he found the Void Panther. Jang returned a few minutes later with a twinkle in his eyes, staring down at a small egg as though it was the earth's greatest treasure.

Jang said, “Father, this is a new species to this realm. I don’t believe it has ever been seen before. In fact, I believe this is the first appearance of this creature in any realm. It is the universe’s creation of a new heavenly boundless race.”

How could I respond to this? My son’s natural talent in these things cannot be underestimated, but his words were simply too absurd. “Tell me, what creature is this Son?”

“This is a Divine Heavenly Cuckoo”

“A Cuckoo is the highest creature you have ever found? At least the Jaguar was fierce, and the Pangolin had an unprecedented ability. What makes this Cuckoo so special?”

Jang shook his head indicating that he was not yet sure. And with that, he retreated into his room. Jang’s special connection with animals fueled his ability to care for them. He knew what environment was necessary for a creature to thrive. Some weeks later, the Cuckoo hatched. The bird was lackluster in appearance and its grey tone ensured that the beholder would ignore its appearance as a lesser existence. Jang assured me that if we had the eyes of a higher realm, this creature would shine forth with colors we never dreamed of. Jang raised the bird for a number of years. I asked what he knew of the bird, but Jang told me that its existence was unfathomable. Jang felt as though he were standing before a priceless treasure covered with a curtain. Its surpassing worth was close, but not attainable.

The Cuckoo lived a normal life for a bird, and in its final day, it fell into a meditative state. Only then did Jang finally see past the curtain and ascertain the glorious existence in front of him. Ping, Jang and I sat in a small room and privately discussed what Jang had learned. The Cuckoo was going to die, but its survival was assured. The Cuckoo had been meditating in order to find its new host. The cuckoos’ soul allowed it to be the perfect brood parasite. In nature, a brood parasite lays its young in a host family. This family raises the parasites young like one of their own. The parasite generally grows quicker than the host’s own children and is, therefore, given more attention and care than the host's own children. Sometimes the parasite will even eat the other children so that it is the only one being cared for.

The Divine Heavenly Cuckoo used its cultivation method to accomplish the same task. The Divine Heavenly Cuckoo would now be discovering a host to use to raise its young. The Divine Heavenly Cuckoo was not limited as a normal bird to creatures which had eggs that looked alike. Instead, the cuckoo would simply overwrite the mind and personality of the unborn child of a host family. At this very moment, the Divine Heavenly Cuckoo had selected a family of Thunder Billowing Wolves which lived on a far off mountain. A puppy would be born soon which was the child of this bird here. The puppy would take over the pack with its exceptional growth. The puppy would have many children, each stronger than the wolves were originally, and each one would go on to lead new packs of powerful wolves. And the puppy, when it died would pass its cultivation on to another creature in the same ecosystem. This entire ecosystem would receive a fundamental upgrade using this method. In a few generations, the wolves would likely be the alpha predators in this mountain range, and the cuckoo would have implanted itself and ascended from a few other creatures on this continent as well. The Universe would use the Divine Heavenly Cuckoo to cause an unknown number of creatures to ascend into higher existences. It would use the Divine Heavenly Cuckoo to force natural selection to the extreme and weed out the weaker creatures of existence. Humanity had always struggled for survival, and only in the last 500 years had society been able to move forward and continue in progress. This Cuckoo threatened the delicate balance man had created. Each generation of Cuckoo presented a new existential threat to humanity.

Ping was restless at this new revelation and immediately walked into the other room intent on killing the divine heavenly cuckoo before it managed to spread its lineage on. Jang had been unable to commit to killing the bird he had raised so carefully. It was too late though, the bird had passed and even now the wolves celebrated the new pup born among them.

I knew we had to protect humanity from this existential threat. Sure, natural selection would always push the greatest creatures forward, but no one would blame me for attempting to safeguard humanity, safeguard my children, from extinction. There were two options on the table. Option one, find this wolf and kill it. Option two, emulate the Cuckoo but make humanity thrive. We decided that both options were appropriate and began to prepare.

Jang told us everything we needed to know about the Cuckoo’s cultivation. Ping helped us understand this cultivation and assimilated it into the other two aspects of our cultivation. The Body of a Void Panther, the Mind of the Ancient Pangolin, and now the Soul of the Divine Heavenly Cuckoo. An unprecedented three-pronged cultivation technique. It became apparent after designing the technique that it was leagues more complicated than anything I could accomplish with my weak foundation and old age. Jang also was not suited for this technique. Instead, we decided to split our efforts. Jang would go into the mountains. He would attempt to use his affinity with animals to discover the wolf and kill it before its cultivation was complete. I would go to the largest town I could find, and using our life’s savings, would begin to read everything I could get my hands on. If our theory was correct, my ancestors would be able to use any information in my mind for their own benefit. Ping would convince her husband to travel with her, and she would find a family suited to be the host for humanities hope. Her cultivation level would impact the growth of the child, therefore, it was important to start small and find a child who would grow strong. Each generation needed to deepen the cultivation of the last and have the potential for significant change in humanity.

I write this to my children, it is only through perseverance that we can safeguard humanity from the coming disaster. The universe has decided to eliminate the weak, let us guide our kind so that we will not be among their number.

I'm interested in what inspired you to write, what you write about, and when you started writing.

The other night I feel asleep in my roommates bed ( I am female and he is male) and I woke up to him fingering me. I laid there for a minute in shock then became aware of what was happening and pulled his hand away. I just laid there not bowing what to do, then he put his arm around me pulled me close and tried to spoon me, then said 'I really want to fuck you. I immediately got up and left. He denies the severity of what happen and I am scared to be in my place. I feel disgusting and worthless. I am not a person to him, only am object.

A bit of history on the situation is there was an open room in my place so I told him and he moved in. His first night there he had to sleep on the floor so since I have I have a big bed I said sleep there. Here my nightmare started....

At first I hung out with him thinking we could be friends but quickly learned that was a mistake. For this I feel responsible. He started doing things like holding me down against my will and when I screamed to get up he would laugh. Sometimes he would shove me to the bed and do this. He has taken me from the hallway and shoved me on his bed. While pinned down he will shove his face against mine and refuse to let me up and give me a 'friends kiss' on the lips. He will grab my vagina and when I tell and tell him to never touch me there again he will laugh and do it again. He will barg into my room whenever he wants (like 4am) take off all clothes but his gym shorts and climb into bed with me forcing me to get up from sleeping and get out of bed. Sometimes he will say he came for pussy and when I tell him never will that happen he laughs. He once told me he could get that pussy whenever he wants and when I screamed and slapped him he laughed. I feel paralyzed. I'm scared in my home. I feel dirty and worthless. Why are my boundaries dismisses and laughed at?! Is he delusional? Dose he have asburgers? Is he a sociopath? I don't know what to do...i feel helpless. Help!!!