A few months ago, I decided to rekindle the creativity I had for storytelling in my youth. Life put it on hold for a while, but now I’ve finally had the chance to bring it back from that hibernation.

My first story is a short one targeted for young audiences, titled The Curse of the Blood Moon. To make it accessible to more people, I've created an audiobook in English along with several PDF translations.

The Curse of the Blood Moon (English, Audiobook)

🎧 [Listen here on YouTube]

The Curse of the Blood Moon (English, PDF)

📖 [Read the PDF]

Translations Available:

• La Maldición de la Luna de Sangre (Spanish) - [PDF]
• Der Fluch des Blutmondes (German) - [PDF]
• La Malédiction de la Lune de Sang (French) - [PDF]
• La Maledizione della Luna di Sangue (Italian) - [PDF]

I hope you enjoy the story, whether you listen or read. Let me know what you think!

Please give feedback hope you enjoy sorry for long title thing up top.

In a small primitive camp. “When the land gives birth to the one who will bring death to the lands, the sun will weep with the red sky while the moon will laugh with the black waves of the dead seas,” Screams a shaman from her tent.

But that is not the beginning of our story. Our story is much later after the primitive folk have seeded the lands of there people and know they call themselves Akkariis(humans), and they call the races human like races Dirras(dwarf), Narrls(elves) and they didn’t even bother to name the others so they made a word for the less human looking races which is Volkdars(animal like races). The Volkdars are rare to see in settlements for they are used as sl*ves so most of the time they wonder in the packs or herds depending on which species or tribe there from. But the tride we are looking for are the ‘Fallen Sun Clan’ they are a small tribe of twenty Volkdars all different species for this is one of the rare tribes that don’t group with the same species, our protagonist is one of these lucky ones who where picked up by them and he was named Zorron. Zorron was a quick and quiet, rare for a Fox Volkdar. He tells the other members that he was abandoned but the leader of the group could tell that he was lying, but he never asked or wanted to ask everyone has a secret and he was one of them. He is called grou a large stout bear Volkdar he was akin to a bodybuilder with his size and strength but slow.

Humans love their dog(s). They are disheartened to see any dog in pain. They go to any extent to ensure the well-being of their dog(and other dogs in their vicinity to some extent). The attachment is such, that they break into tears, seeing a dog suffer or die in a movie. Is there any truth to this emotion? Is there any truth to any of our emotions? Can we call these emotions our own? Let’s see..

How is it that the same people, dog-lovers if you will, are happy to have other animals tortured to death, and then served neatly on their plate? Can love ever be limited to an individual? Or, is it that which knows no boundary? Can you love your child, and murder someone else’s, at the same time? Is attachment love? Can violence and love coexist?

I am writing a book as a present that I plan to give to a significant other. I wrote the book to be closer to a children's book style, so I used an ABAB rhyme scheme throughout the paragraphs. I am also planning to add photos to accompany the text in the book. This is my first draft of the book so I am just wondering where I can improve the flow, improve the wording in certain sections, or any other relevant advice to polish the writing.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y5VFJvCUx4cuip0Fzis-IiaF8vq0a3R3jJ2knbrABEQ/edit?usp=sharing

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Hey I'm a rando high school trans fem that's honestly less than average in most everything lol. One day I randomly got this story idea in my head while drawing and naming this girl o drew and that eventually led me to making this story witch helped me realize I wanted to be trans. Basically this girl is me. It used to be that she was just me gender bent or whatever but now it's just me lol. The whole idea I had was a no person perspective genuinely trying to avoid everything I could with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person perspective stuff lol this is just a small chapter of it I wanted to share (I have about 34 chapters) I think I've progressed a lot but I also wanted to share what I've done before anyways sorry about the rant I'm just looking for feedback and will probably post a bit more later 😅

THE ADVENTURES OF ELLIE

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

(NARRATOR) Ellie is an “average” girl that rides the bus to school after waking up at around 5:30am to 6:00am every morning monday through friday she loves to draw in her book that she always has with her and play games her mind is constantly all over the place because she has ADHD, that's right she has ADHD, that's why everyone thinks shes the weird kid at school because she’ll do something random or act weird just to do it and keep herself entertained and focused on her task like she might just stuff her head in her shirt like most people used to do when they were little she is basically a grown or growing child oh speaking of witch she should be waking up in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . what's happening? Now this is odd it says here on my script she would have woken by n-

The Pearlescent Marble echoing with the soft prayers of Medusa. The cold floor forced itself into her knees, bowing before Athena. The temple doors crack open, throwing light over her as she prays. Her naked body illuminated in the light as her head bowed down. The door opener walks into the temple, his body reflecting the light as he is adorned in peacock feathers and holds a trident in his hand. She scratches at her skin as a rash surfaces, the saltwater washing over her body, worsening the rash. As the water washes away, the rash still permeates and spreads up her skin, the rash itches left, it begins to soothe, but still she cries. She trips to rip out her hair but it bites back. She wraps herself in grey drapes before fleeing the temple. Medusa trips and stumbles along the path, rocks digging into her soles as she walks, she trips and falls down a cave, cutting and breaking her bones as she does so. There as she lay, in the dark. Cold, and Alone. Clinging to her cloak, she shudders, damned to eternity in this cave. Years go by as Medusa sits in her cold self-hate and despair, gradually she forgot what it felt like to live. She was a corpse doomed to never enter Hades as divine punishment for her sin. As the years disappear, she wails in solitude, drawing people to her sealed cavern, thus the legend of the hideous beast spawned. Several “Heroes” wander into her cell and attempt to slaughter her, but they never escape for they are petrified by what they’ve seen, the legends wind that she has the body of a serpent, the face of the devil, hair of snakes, fangs of a tarantula, and the eyes of a basilisk. The hero Perseus was voluntold to venture into the lair of Medusa and slaughter her. The hero treads down the cavern, the air thin and cold, he spots a lone girl in a corner crying, her naked body exposed to the elements, he draws near and soothes the girl, “Is everything alright? I’ve come to slay Medusa, I’ll free you, little one. What’s your name?” the girl slowly turns and looks in his eyes, “Medusa…” Perseus looks stunned for this was a vulnerable little girl, not a horrid monster who was out for blood. The monster he had been sent to kill was really a sad, distraught, lonely soul? Perseus looks at Medusa and hugs her, “I see you. You’re not a monster. I see your heart, Medusa. It’s not your fault.” Medusa cries into his shoulder, Perseus whispers, “I see you suffer. You want it all to be over, right? Please, let me. Allow me to cut off your head.” Medusa looks at him and nods. The sword moves swiftly, as Medusa waits for the release of her suffering, Perseus hugs her head into his chest. “Here lies Medusa, eternally devoted to Athena, and the most beautiful maiden made mortal” are the last words she hears as she dies in his arms.

I had undergone some changes.

All things change, mind you. It's the way of things. It's nature. No frog can remain a tadpole forever. No butterfly can stay in their chrysalis.

My changes were just more drastic than most. And the time period more vast.

In my youth, I had believed myself powerful. I had been the head of an entire nation. I had temples in my honor, statues to depict my glory.

Now, I am Mr. Dancer, and I am a grade school teacher. More like an assistant, really. I go about the classroom, checking on the students, make sure they're doing their lessons and not causing too much trouble. Sometimes I dedicate some time to have a one-on-one with the kids. See how they're feeling, give them a quick pop quiz, and offer some encouragement where I can.

Right now, the day was winding down and it was "free time". Everyone was milling about the room, simply doing what they liked most. A few of the less fortunate were being made to finish the math problems they couldn't get to at the end of Ms. Smith's math lesson.

I looked to one of the boys, Tré, as he stared in frustration at his paper. He rubbed one of his answers away and proceeded to work at it again. He and a few of his fellow students had not taken the lessons on multiplication tables very well.

I looked to the board which hung at the very front of the class, just above Ms. Smith's desk. It was a large grid, lined with student names and classroom subjects. Each student had a number of glittering golden star stickers noting the number of perfect scores they had received in that subject. I looked to Tré's name and saw the small handful of stars he had earned. I began pushing on the board, bending some of the room's ambient light into one precise spot.

In the corner of his eye, Tré caught a slight glimmer. He turned further in my direction, seeing the bright shine of several gold stars on the board. He took in a sharp breath and turned back to the paper, working dilligently.

I smiled, turning my attention back to the board. At first, I believed the stars were worthless. Just stickers made to look valuable. It took me a little while to learn that, to the children, they might as well truly be solid gold.

I turned my attention from the board back to the classroom. It was a shame that some had been forced to finish their work. My heart went out to them. They were missing out on a truly rigorous game of Go Fish only one table over. A few of the kids had recently discovered the concept of gambling, and a raven-haired boy named Jay had just won seven candies, much to the annoyance of his fellow players.

Aside from them, Jamie and her little crew were reading some of the simpler Roald Dahl books, Jackson and Lonnie were playing little games they had made up on the fly, and David was doing arts and crafts over by the edge of the room.

"Hello, David!" I said, approaching the small blond child. He did not respond, instead he was staring intently at his paper as his pencil worked, his hair hanging down in a curtain hiding his face.

David was a very serious child. He sat by himself whenever he could. Didn't like it when people bugged him to often. Didn't laugh as much as the others and mostly kept to himself, doodling whenever the mood struck him.

"Whatcha drawing, buddy?" I said, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his latest masterpiece.

For David, masterpiece is only a mild exaggeration. See, David's father was an old school fantasy nerd. In the 80s, he had caught the bug and gotten himself addicted to a popular tabletop game, and had been riding that wave ever since. David, when he was four years old, found his father's old sourcebooks and became inspired, tracing some of the art to hang up in his room.

He was six now. And most children his age were able to draw the odd squiggle or rough shape. Some could make a decent looking duck or cat. David had put his colored pencils to work and drawn the head of a red dragon. It was still rough, with some odd and misshapen bits. The scales were mostly just a bunch of odd circles, and the teeth were just jagged triangles; but, for a boy his age, this had taken time and concentration as well as a memory that most of his peers didn't quite possess.

"David! That's amazing, buddy!" I said, staring down at it. He didn't respond to it. Not that I expected him to. Instead, I placed a hand on the top of his head and gave the paper a quick tap.

The dragon began to stretch. Its odd, serpentine eye blinked awake as its jaws opened wide. A crude gout of spikey orange fire erupted from behind its jagged teeth before it returned to its original state.

I peeked down past the little wall of blond hair, and saw David's eyes lit up with an inspired look that screamed "I can do even better!" As he withdrew another paper and set himself to work. I gave him a pat on the back and left him to it.

I loved my job. Truly. It was the last thing I had expected.

Even twenty years ago, I wouldn't have even considered this job. I would have simply slept my life away, wasting away into nothing. A few thousand years ago, I would have deemed it beneath me.

It was hard to remember what I was doing at the time that was so important I could neglect my people for so long. I didn't recall creating anything particularly exciting or controlling the weather. I certainly wasn't monitoring battlefields.

It struck me in that moment that I had forgotten the type of god that I was. Not a war god, a creator, or a storm god. A sun god, perhaps? No.

The bell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked about the room, all of the class had their attention solely on Ms. Smith.

"Okay, class! Clean up your areas and line up at the door. Quickly!" The young lady said authoritatively before launching into a rendition of "the cleanup song".

They moved dutifully, compelled by the little song the teacher hummed. Each hopped to attention, forming little bucket chains to neatly pass their materials back to the shelves they came from. It was sweet, seeing how much they all wanted to look responsible. A smile spread from the front of each line to the backs, as a sense of satisfaction filled the room.

A god of order?

When the floors and desks were cleared of debris, the children gathered the bags from their assigned cubbies and lined up at the classroom door. Each child passed the threshold, muttering "Goodbye Ms. Smith" to their teacher as they left for the weekend.

Jay, who had strategically placed himself at the very back of the line, looked intently at the portrait hung beside the door, along with its accompanying dish. It was a poster depicting a handsome middle-aged man staring sagely off in the middle distance, his dark hair blowing behind him as he looked off in thought. The little raven-hared boy smiled, withdrawing the handful of candies he had won off of his classmates, and placed them in the dish.

"Goodbye Mr. Dancer. Goodbye Ms. Smith." He said as he made his way out the door and past his teacher.

As Jay scampered down the hall, following his friends, Ms. Smith, Deidre as she was called after school hours, closed the door behind her, looking into my offering dish as she passed it. It was a little plastic cauldron a previous teacher had bought from the dollar store during St. Patrick's Day.

A saint, perhaps?

She took note of the small pile of strawberry candies inside and sighed. "Hope that kid never goes to Vegas when he's older." She said as she made her way back to her desk.

She spent the next couple hours making up her lessons for Monday, finishing the grading on her worksheets, and polishing off what little coffee she had left in her thermos. She tended to take her time with the paperwork, often leaving the school a little later than most of her colleagues.

I actually enjoyed that part.

In twenty years at the school, I rarely had a teacher who didn't immediately try to leave and go home to catch some program or see their spouse. It was nice to have the company as I did my own after school work.

I looked through the paperwork Deidre was grading and saw that Tré had answered every question on his math sheet correctly. I beamed with a small amount of pride at that. With how much he was struggling earlier, it was nice to see him come out on top.

"I knew you could do it, buddy." I said as I turned my attention to the board. I couldn't add another star to it. That was beyond my power. Still, a 100% deserved some form of reward. So instead, I did the next best thing.

I altered the shine on some of the stars, dimming them down just slightly and giving that leftover luster to Tré's. When he came in tomorrow, they would shine just a little brighter than the others. Nobody else would notice, not even Deidre. But Tré would. And that was what mattered.

In addition to Tré's success, Jamie had gotten the top grade on her English worksheet, which meant that Independent Reading Time would run a little long tomorrow. Stretching time by a few minutes would do the trick, allowing her to squeeze in another Patricia Polacco book. Honestly, she went through those books so quickly it was a wonder there were any left for her.

Jay, meanwhile, had completely failed his social studies quiz. That meant, as much as it hurt me to do so, He'd have a run of bad luck during tomorrow's free time. You have to study if you want to be a winner. Simple as that. Maybe Lonnie would get a chance to win then.

This train of thought continued roughly until I looked at my offering bowl. I ultimately decided to take it easy on him.

The boy didn't exactly have the makings of a priest, or a scholar for that matter, but he always gave some of his winnings to me, so I couldn't complain.

It's not always luck, or random chance. Sometimes you just win over the right god, and they look out for you. Speaking as a god, it's just nice to have someone willing to sacrifice some of their winnings for you. That was an honest form of worship. It can't be bought with favors or coerced out of someone.

"I might be biased, but maybe Vegas is the right place for him." I said to Deidre, who continued her silent grading. "Who knows. Maybe he'll win over some god of wealth and end up set for life."

A god of wealth?

I shook off the thought and turned to Deidre. She didn't respond to me, of course. She couldn't hear me. My influence was decent, but terribly small scale. I had enough power to be present, but not enough to be truly known. I could touch things, but not move them. Speak, but not be heard. I could not change the form of things, but brush against their nature just enough to change them.

She did, however, feel my presence to a degree. I made her coffee stronger during tough mornings, helping her to wake up and stay alert. The AC was bad, so I made the classroom warmer in the winters and cooler in the summer. And on the off chance she came to class after a night out with friends, I eased the pain a little, making sure her headaches weren't too bad.

I heaved a sigh. The things I do for adults are often thankless. They refuse to think in the abstracts, often relying on the myths and falsehoods they call "logic" to solve their problems. They cannot comprehend the very simple idea that a piece of strawberry candy placed into a dollar store plastic cauldron could possibly ease a headache.

Yet, a chalk-coated pill can do it. As though that made any more sense.

Deidre and I finally wrapped up our evening duties, and she gathered her things. As she made her way to the door, she paused and looked into the offering bowl. She bit her lip slightly in contemplation.

I chuckled a bit to myself. "Take a couple and go. You earned it. I'll see you Monday."

She sighed, having conceded some form of internal argument, and I felt a tiny portion of my power wane as she plucked two of the foil-wrapped sweets from my bowl. Not enough to do any real damage, but it was noticeable.

I sat in the silence for a while, contemplating. It would be a few days before I could take my mind off of this suddenly burning question. What was I before this? What matter of god was I?

I could speed and slow the flow of time. Was I a god of time, then?

And what about luck? I could control that to some extent. Could I have been a god of fortune?

I had changed. Of course I did. All things change. But does that change matter if you don't know where you started from? How do you know change has even occurred?

The longer I sat there, the more I began to think. What had my name been, all that time ago? What was I worshipped for? It was lost now. A dream of a dream. So far removed, it was the ghost of a memory.

What...what was I?

I took a breath and decided to take a step away from the classroom. Perhaps a vacation was in order.

I looked to the locations in my mind, the places I could travel to freely. Two existed. One was my classroom, and the other was...

I arrived in the antechamber of a small, single room temple. It was a peasant's temple. One built on the outskirts of some farmland. For a few thousand years, it was my resting place. At once tomb and bedchamber. It was cool, with the slight damp that comes from years of humid air rolling inside with no place to escape.

It was the last remaining artifact of my previous life.

I entered the altar room, seeing the space where offerings were once laid. The slight divot in the stone table. Once, there was a gold bowl sat there. The farmer would leave portions of figs, cheeses, and meats were left there. Meager offerings to appease me and call for aid.

A god of harvest?

I looked to the figure standing atop the altar. Time had worn away at its appearance. It looked vaguely humanoid, not that it mattered much. There wasn't much left to the face of it. Mostly a few mossy green smudges where the eyes and mouth once were. The real identifying mark were the long, twisting limbs that vaguely resembled those of a gymnast or...

"Dancer." I said aloud, thinking back to the last time this space was used. It was a simple thing. A child, a little girl, left a tiny piece of strawberry flavored taffy on an old, dirty table for a god she didn't know existed

I paused and looked to the entryway. I had spent so long in enclosed spaces. Sealed off classrooms and damp temples. If I was a god of the sun or harvest, would I not be better suited out there? I took a deep breath, content to step outside and feel the warm embrace of the sun for the first time in millennia.

So I did.

And I saw what remained of the fields around my temple.

Hi friends!

I'm new here, but I've been a long time academic writer. Lately, I've been trying to work on my creative writing side and finally finish something.

I'd love to get some feedback and authentic criticism on my first completed story. It's been ~20 years of trying, if not more, and there's finally a finished product.
Here's a link to it -- (3102 word count).

Also, definitely looking for some semblance of a writing community if anyone has any direction or can help guide me a bit. Thanks! 😅

I need help naming my characters(superheroes and supervillains) I have a good name for 3 of them but I need help for an energy manipulator, a girl who can use all the elements, and a hero who can control all forms of weather(don’t say storm lol already taken) any help would be appreciated! :)

​

https://preview.redd.it/g69h7ebwlmec1.png?width=2000&format=png&auto=webp&s=ecb9968c19cb7ac10601fce394437572deb99b35

Hi Everyone! I'm Caroline, former opera singer, performer/producer in the Chicago storefront theater scene, activist, and community organizer turned Chief of Staff of StoryCo. At StoryCo, we're seeking to enable storytellers from anywhere to create multimedia stories that can act as the foundation for a future movie or TV show or stand on its own within the StoryCo platform.

As a key step in our mission, we recently launched our $100K Accelerator Program to give a select group of storytellers exclusive access to our platform to turn their script, short story, comic, or audio-narrative into a multimedia epic.

Learn more and apply now at Story.co/accelerator!

TL/DR of what you need to know about the Accelerator:

• Funding: Selected projects will receive between $5,000 and $10,000 to bring their vision to life
• Resources: You'll get access to our platform’s bespoke creator tooling to bring your story to life
• Networking and Exposure: Gain invaluable connections and exposure, from the other projects in the cohort to our team of resident advisors to the existing + massive base of StoryCo supporters and fans
• No IP Ownership: StoryCo will not take any ownership of your intellectual property!

Our Accelerator cohort will be the first to access the tools we’re building to allow storytellers to quickly and seamlessly turn plain-text stories into rich audio-visual worlds. We will give them funding and other resources to empower their story creation, allowing us to gather valuable insights to refine and perfect our storytelling technology in the process.

The deadline for submissions is February 29th, 2024. Please let me know if you have ANY questions about the Accelerator or about StoryCo in general.

We can’t wait to build worlds with you!

I've been hearing that the opposite of love is not hate but apathy, and in that context, I've got a question about the villain arc I want to make.

Two good guys who are family, A, and B, have a very complicated relationship, and B turns evil about halfway through on the premise that if he does, he doesn't have to worry about trust anymore because an SA in his childhood gave him major trust issues.

So which would be sadder when he turns, Him being totally apathetic toward A because he doesn't love her anymore, or him hating her with everything he has because he still loves her deep down? (He's meant to die at the end)

I am looking for an iphone application that translate voice to text. (Iphone old model).Hi it’s hard for me to type a lot. And also it’s hard for me to usemy hands and move them a lot on a phone - so to use a lot phone and edit. I need some application that I could dictate and will translate into the Text’s. I also have an accent and so regular iPhone application hasn’t been catching text very well. And I haven’t been able to use voice to edit so every time I would have to go back and fix it. I would use my hands and so i’m tired after just short paragraph because of so many edits. Ideally something that dictate and then take commands by voice to edit.

It could be free or for a small monthly fee (i just need to use 1-2 months for now). Can you please reccomend me something? Maybe someone has been using with their mobility problem. I very need it. I have iphone 8. Or how to search for one ? Thank you!!

The story I'm writing so far is a romance story between two men and the main cast of main characters is all men there are female characters but they're either supporting characters or extras I started to overthink about this after a comment from my friend so I wanted to know is it okay to have a story with only male main characters?

Flat, back to bed, face to ceiling. Laying there, still, yet her mind raced. Eyes closing and opening. Blinking is the only notable movement. Numbers swirl and wander her mind. Serene from the outside, tethered and tortured from within. Her brown blinking eyes searching for answers. Wondering if this will ever resolve, ever clear and drip away. This empty space inside her heart that wilts and withers wonders if falling in love will ever happen again. She wonders if her sense of self disappeared the same night she ran away from him. His open arms dropping from outstretched to never again open for her. She wonders if she can find her way back home. She seeks and stretches. But nothing seems to capture that spark she felt when closed within his arms. Still, her brown eyes wander. Wild and dark, scenes she wishes she didn’t see play across her vision. Memories swirling. Laughing echoing in her ears. Her own laugh, captured in that room of white walls and many mirrors. He slept by her side. Every night like a faithful puppy. She loved him dearly but she could not stay. The sounds below her perfect home lured her away. Calling her down. She questioned herself. Questioned him. She began to pick and prod. Soon her stunning story began to unravel. Her reality began to blur. The more she questioned the further her chances of returning to the world as she once knew it fell away. Soon she had passed the point of no return. Realizing her mistake, she wailed with anguish and confusion, but it was too late. She had stumbled too far into the pit of sticky sweet lies and deception. No one could save her. She sank, gasping and shaking. Gurgling as the dark liquid poured down her throat. Seeping into her ears, nose and eyes, coating her vision. Too thick to see. Her breaths losing speed as the liquid stole her last drops of energy from her brittle bones. Suddenly she felt full. Fuller than she had ever felt before. Her heart radiating light. A small ball of energy, (perhaps her soul?) spread its warmth across her sternum and down her sinking limbs. Her head fallen forward jerked up. Her mouth gaped. A silent scream. Spiders began to pour out of every orifice. Little baby ones, scattering across the sticky dark surface. Dancing like nothing else mattered but the dance of life. Her tongue twitched, her eyes blinked, rapid. Suddenly the spiders were gone. The liquid she was coated in disappeared. She was dry. Her clothes now a silky white. Prestigious and perfect. Thousands of white daisies surrounding her body. Her head arrest upon a pillow of soft dirt and grass. An evening breeze tickling her baby hairs that frame her face. The sun, an afterthought, fallen down the sky, melting into the horizon. Beautiful blues, oranges, yellows and reds stealing her attention. She remembered nothing of the boy she once loved. She had no recollection of the lies she told, of the sticky sweet liquid sticking thick inside her throat. Or the dancing spider babies pouring from her lips. All she could remember was a sinking feeling deep within her stomach. Like a memory long forgotten. Rotten and bitter, pushed to the edge of consciousness. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream. Yet there was a persistent bad taste in her mouth and a crust of something sticky and dark around her fingernails to remind her of the prior events. Or maybe she was just imagining everything and the sticky dark crust around her nails was just nail polish from the day before. Taken off in a haste. Maybe the sour taste was just, well nothing, or maybe some pollen had fallen into her mouth as she slept. Maybe her home wasn’t far off. Maybe she’d stand up from this field of white daisies and green grasses, the light breeze would catch her nightgown and pull her home. Or maybe she’d just lay there for a while longer, patiently waiting for more dreams to pull her back down into their tendrils of truth and deception. Consciousness and unconsciousness intertwining and colliding. Maybe she’d see him again. And maybe just maybe they’d embrace this time. Arms strong around each other. The room of white walls and many mirrors would fall away, revealing the field of white daisies and green grasses once again. Maybe if she remembered him long enough after waking he’d stay awhile. Pressed bodies against the other. Energy pulsing between the two, strong and sensual, sharing the same soul. Connected. Forever. They both know their connection is too strong for the physical realm. This truth haunts them. Brings them to their knees. Their hearts falling prisoner to the wrath they were chosen to endure. Forbidden love. Love that drives people mad. Love that throws people off buildings and bridges. Whispering words of encouragement when the cool metal of the pistol is pressed cool against their forehead. So close to pulling the trigger. Yet if they did they would lose their ability to meet in the realm of dreams and possibilities. Perhaps this is why they visit in the land between life and death. The place where everyone goes when the body is still and silent. Perhaps this is why there’s a sinking deep within her stomach as she wanders the waking world alone. Wondering if she’ll ever find love again. True love like before. Like with him. The boy that held her close and kept her safe from the world that breaks the hearts of the most beautiful of dreamers. Perhaps he both saved her and broke her within the breath of life and love. Perhaps neither one remembers what it felt to love the other. Perhaps neither one will love again. Perhaps both will die, forgetting the other. Remembering nothing but the darkness and deception as their bodies fall into the cool earth, dancing spiders coating their bodies as death arrives. Wrapping its icy fingers around their sternums, pulling them far down into the darkness of the abyss. Or perhaps they could finally save each other, once becoming nothing they could become everything all at once all together. A bright ball of energy erupting across the field of white daisies and green grasses. Setting the world of living alight

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/341594875-frozen-dawn-the-survivors%27-journey

Suffer Katie, Suffer Katie Suffer Suffer Katie. Why the long face shrouded in misery and mystery that tears have turned into blood tasting so bitter like the song you started to sing to ease the pain since childhood. Give into the darkness and hear the voice Suffer Katie for your crooked smile and heart of charcoal black makes you special. The rain that falls down is for you to make you strong and make the people scatter like ashes they thought was yours. for Suffer Katie sweet Suffer Katie roam the halls of their minds and make them gasp for air while looking like the siren you must be and crush their pipes to make them mute. Suffer Katie sweet Suffer Katie for now is the time of winter rest for the snow falls and you are alone by the dark shore feeling like your life is no more but sleep Katie for your death is meaningful for once spring comes to the lands open up your eyes that once had tears but now have joy and waiting for you to sing your songs sirens will envy for centuries to come.

Finally I can't resist you have breaking and entering my soul and turned my heart cold and mysterious and I like it. The world doesn't understand  us people of the dark and goth for many reasons we don't want any part that of there world we knew. For music we listen to make our very being quake with happiness to be odd and unusual that some of there sappy love songs burn our ears like acid. So if want to explore this black world of ours look into eyes not without being scared but look deeper and see that this world is truly beautiful like rain that makes u sleep peaceful at night with no regrets.

After a stressful day of work, I stop by a gift shop that sells aromatherapy products. The owner of the shop sold me a bag of aroma bath bombs. "Drop them in warm bath water and maaaarvelous things will happen." He told me. That night I ran some warm water in the tub.

I look through the bag and pick a random bath bomb to use. I pull out the bomb had the label "Cherry kiss" written on it. The bomb was shaped like a pair of lips noticeably plump ones. The bath was already ready so I stepped in. I relaxed my body laying in the bath having my body submerged in the water. I take the bath bomb and dropped it in the bath water.

As the bomb hit the water it started to dissolve. It fizzes as the bath water starts to slowly turn red. The bath also started to smell like cherries. I don't eat cherries often but it smelled nice. The smell reminded him of a cherry red Tootsie Pop. "Nothing out of the ordinary, this is what bath bombs usually do." I thought. I looked down at the water and a message formed in the water. "With love from Luscious Lip Linda," it said. Then all of a sudden the water started to bubble profusely as something rose out of the water.

Floating in front of me was a pair of red disembodied lips. It flew over and gave me a kiss on the cheek then it pop away like a bubble. Before I had a moment to think more lips rose out of the water. There were ten in total. Each one gave a kiss one at a time, then all together in a barrage of smooches. The smooch and smack sounds invaded my ears as they covered my face. Then they all pop. Just when I thought it was over the bath started bubbling again.

The bubbles became bigger as they formed a silhouette of a woman. The silhouette summoned a bubble that morphed into another pair of lips but this time she made it grow blowing it up like a balloon. Now they were bigger and plumper than before. I was the size of my head. The silhouette did the gesture of blowing a kiss which sent the lips flying toward me. I braced for impact as lips went smack into my face like a punch. Luckily they were soft. All I could see was red as it smooched my face. The kiss was held for at least ten seconds until there was a big loud pop. Just like that, it was gone. I laid in the tub that now smelled like cherries now knowing that these aroma bombs were the real deal.

I have been having trouble sleeping lately to me being too uneasy. It was all the anxiety I let pile up over the past few days. The stress from the daily grind does"t help much either. So I decided to do some cardio exercises. After I was tired and sweaty I stopped. The next thing I did was took a nice warm bath. I drop a bath bomb that was a blend of sandalwood, honeysuckle, vanilla, and rose. It smelled nice. The bath bomb was called "The Scent Of Serenity." After that, I went to bed. As I lay there on my back with my eyes closed I was still awake. Then I hear a muffled chime sound. I opened my eyes. I see the smiling face of a beautiful woman floating just above my face. But I was not startled. Before I could let out a word she kisses my forehead. Heady tranquility surrounds and comforts me. The woman blows gently and my vision started to blur. I fell asleep again. I got a full night's worth of sleep.

Timothy was manning the kissing booth while his friend Chad was gone. Chad was one that was supposed to be one serving the girls kisses since he was the most handsome of the two of them, but he had to use the bathroom leaving Tim alone at the booth. One kiss was 25 cents. He opened a pack of fresh mint gum and started chewing it. If there's a chance that he has his first kiss at a kissing booth he might as well make sure his breath isn't bad. But so far the girls that pass by didn't seem too interested. So he just decided to sit down and read some manga. After a few minutes of reading, he hears someone walking up to the booth. He looks and sees a beautiful woman with a notably voluptuous figure and long black hair. "Are you still open?" she asked. "Yes, but the person who's serving the kisses isn't here at the moment. he said. " You'll do." she said as she puts a dollar in the jar. "Excuse me miss, but you only need 25 cents for one kiss." Tim said thinking she made a mistake. " Then it's your lucky day Mister. She takes out a little mirror and a tube of blue lipstick and begins applying it onto her perfectly proportioned lips. She made a few poppysmic sounds while making sure her makeup was on good. After putting her mirror back in her purse the busty black-haired beauty grabs him by the shirt giving a firm tug, making him stand up on his feet. She pressed her plump pouts onto his face for a couple of seconds. There was dark blue kiss mark on his left cheek. She then parted her lips from him, a smack sound emanating from the release. "One." Then immediately went towards his right cheek and kissed him there as well to leave another mark on him. "Two" She counted. She gave a nice little peck on the forehead. "Three". Then finally she gave him a big wet one on the lips, holding it for a few seconds. His eyes widened as his heart started pounding fasting than usually. As she finally released him he fell back in his chair grasping for air. "Four," she said catching her breath as well. "This was fun, we should do this again sometime." She slips her number into his shirt pocket. He was in a bit of a daze to react. " What was your name again?" He managed to utter. "Mia" she answered giving a little wink before leaving. Tim sits there in awe of what just happened. "Wow," he said. Tim smacks his mouth a little bit. "Did she take my gum!?" he thought to himself realizing he wasn't chewing anymore. Sometime later Chad comes back to his friend with lipstick on his face. After Chad snaps him out of it he asks what happen while he was gone.

I like buttons

buttons are nice

they come in many shapes and sizes

some big some small

most commonly round

They are nice to feel

very smooth and round

They come in many colors

My favorite buttons

are the ones that my friend Mia gives me

Those are the ones that bust off her shirts

I keep them for good luck.

ሀ'ኳ ጢጤኴኲሀኡህ ኑኪጣኪ ቧኪሣሃየኴኪ ሀኲ ሃ ቈየሀኪኲ ኒሀኲኲኒኪ ሣጤጣኡኪጣ ጤሢ ኲኑኪ የየኪቧ. ሀ ሢኪኪኒ ኳጤጣኪ ሃኲኲሃሣኑኪካ ኲጤ ኑኪጣኪ ኲኑሃኡ ኳጤኴኲ ጤሢ ኲኑኪ ጣኪኴኲ ጤሢ ጣኪካካሀኲ. ኲኑኪ ሢጤኒጣኴ ኑኪጣኪ ሃጣኪ ኳጤጣኪ ሀኡኲጣጤኴጢኪሣኲሀየኪ ሃኡካ ኴሃኲሀኴሢሀኪካ የየሀኲኑ ኲኑኪኳኴኪኒየኪኴ. ሃኡካ ሀ ሢሀኡካ ኲኑሃኲ ሃኳሀሃቧኒኪ.

ሀ ካጤኡ'ኲ ኴየሢሢኪጣ ሢጣጤኳ ሃኡሇሀኪኲኚ, ቧየኲ ሀ ሃኳ ሃየየሃጣኪ ጤሢ ሀየኴኲ የየኑሃኲ ሃ ሀጤጣኪ ሀ ሃኳ. ሀ ሃኳ ኡጤኲ ሃ ኴጣሀኒኒኪካ ሀኡካሀየሀካየሃኒ. ሀ ሃኳ ኡጤኲ ሃኲኲጣሃሣኲሀየኪ. ሀ ሃቧኴጤኒየኲኪኒኚ ሣሃኡኡጤኲ ኴጤሣሀሃኒሀሗኪ. ሃኒኒ ኳኚ ኴየሣሣኪኴኴ ሣሃኡ ቧኪ ሣጣኪካሀኲኪካ ኲጤ ጤኡኪ ኒየሣጣኚ ኳየኲሃኲሀጤኡ ሀ ኑሃጢጢኪኡኪካ ኲጤ ኑሃየኪ ጣኪሣኪሀየኪካ ሢጣጤኳ ኳኚ ሢጤጣኪሢሃኲኑኪጣኴ. ሀ ሣሃኡ ኲሃጣኪ ኡጤ ሣጣኪካሀኲ ሢጤጣ ኲኑሀኴ ሃኲኲጣሀቧየኲኪ. ቧኚ ካኪሢሀኡሀኲሀጤኡ, ሀኲ ኳኪሃኡኴ ኲኑሃኲ ኪየኪጣኚኲኑሀኡህ ኲኑሃኲ ሀ ኑሃየኪ, ሀ ሣሃኡኡጤኲ ኪየኪጣ ካኪኴኪጣየኪ. ሀ ካጤ ኡጤኲ የየጤጣጣ ኑሃጣካ. ሀ ሃኳ ኡጤኲ ህኪኡኪጣጤየኴ. ሀ ሃኳ ኲኑኪ ሃኒኒ ካኪየጤየጣሀኡህ ኒጤሣየኴኲ ኲኑኪ ቧሀቧኒኪ የየሃጣኡኪካ ሃቧጤየኲ. ኴኪኒሢሀኴኑ ሃኡካ ሣጤኡኴየኳሀኡህ.

ሀ ኑሃየኪ ሃኡ ኪኚኪ ሢጤጣ ኴኪኪሀኡህ ኒየሣጣ, ቧኚ የየኑሀሣኑ ሀ ኳየኴሣኒኪ ኳኚ የየሃኚ ሀኡኲጤ ኲኑኪ ሣጣጤየየካ ኲጤ ኴኡሃኲሣኑ ሃ ሢኒሃጣኪ ሢጣጤኳ ኲኑኪ ሃሀጣ ቧኚ የሀጣኲየኪ ጤሢ ኳኚ ኴሀኳጢኒኚ ቧኪሀኡህ ኲኑኪጣኪ. ኴኑጤየኒካ ሀ ኑሃየኪ ኡጤኲ, ኲኑሃኲ ሢኒሃጣኪ የየጤየኒካ ኑሃየኪ ሣጤኡኲሀኡየኪካ ካጤየየኡ ኴኲጣኪሃኳ ኲጤ ኴጤኳኪጤኡኪ ኪኒኴኪ. ቧየኲ ኡጤየየ ሀኲ ሀኴ ኳሀኡኪ. ኡጤኲ ቧኪሣሃየኴኪ ሀ ሣጣኪሃኲኪካ ኲኑሀኴ ኒሀኲኲኒኪ ጢሀኪሣኪ ጤሢ ጤጢጢጤጣኲየኡሀኲኚ. ቧየኲ ቧኪሣሃየኴኪ ሀ የየሃኴ ኲኑኪጣኪ ሢሀጣኴኲ.

ሀ ሃኳ ሃ የኪጣኚ ኒጤየኪካ ሀኡካሀየሀካየሃኒ. ሃኡካ ሀ ኪኡሀጤኚ ሀኲ, ጣኡጤየየሀኡህ ሢየኒኒ የየኪኒኒ ኲኑሃኲ ሀ'ኳ ሃ ኒኪኪሣኑ, ኲሃጣሀኡህ ኲኑኪሀጣ ኪኡኪጣህኚ, ኲሀኳኪ, ሃኡካ ጣኪኴጤየጣሣኪኴ ሃኡካ የየሀኒኒ ኡጤኲ ቧኪ ሃቧኒኪ ኲጤ ጢሃኚ ሀኲ ቧሃሣጣ. ሀኲ ኳሃጣኪኴ ኳኪ ኴሀሣጣ. ጣኪኪጢኴ ኳኪ የጢ ሃኲ ኡሀህኑኲ. ኲኑኪ ጤኡኒኚ ጣኪሃኴጤኡ ሀ ኑሃየኪ ኡጤኲ ጣሀኒኒኪካ ኳኚኴኪኒሢ ሀኴ ቧኪሣሃየኴኪ ሀ ኒሃሣጣ ኲኑኪ ሣጤኡኴኲሀኲየኲሀጤኡ. ሀ ሢኪሃጣ ካኪሃኲኑ. ሀ'ኳ ሃ ቧሃኒኒኒኪኴኴ ጢየኴኴኚ.

life is tough. it brings moments of joy and moments of heartache all within what seems like a matter of seconds. it was easy as a kid and all we wanted to do was grow up so we could do all the great and fun things the adults were doing. little did we know how confused we would be when that time came. from trying to keep up a lifestyle we created for ourselves in our own minds to actually having to make the tough decisions for ourselves or the family that we built. scared of making the wrong choice, not being accepted, disliked or mistreated. we make this shell for ourselves and we try our damnedest not to let it be broken. what happens when it breaks. what do we become. how do we feel comfortable again. love. it is all we need to make it through this mine field they call life. it is hard. love is beautiful and terrifying all in the same breath. it breaks you and shapes you more than youll ever know. its a part of life. its one of the things that makes life as hard as it is. no matter how tough you are or how vulnerable you become love is something you always search for. weather it is love from a friend or a significant other. love has the ability to show its face in many ways. listening to a close friend while they tell you about their darkest hour to giving a hug when it isnt really needed. a kiss from your lover or a congrats from your friends for accomplishing something great in your life. dont let life hold you down and choke the light you once had as a child. be creative. express yourself and just reach out into the wild with your heart. never give up and always be open to love one another. life and love go hand in hand and it is something we should never give up on.

what type of man am i. work, sleep. thats what I have become. i am a monetary figure. what did i want to do. what hopes were there for me. what hopes did i destroy. ill tell you the type of man i am. i work, i sleep, i protect, i provide, i love. i wake up every day for you. i never open my eyes for myself. i know who counts on me to go in and push through so we can do this thing called life. what about life though. my life hasnt been hard. it also hasnt been perfect by any means. the life i was going to have was world ending. that life would have been cataclysmic. until i broke it. shattered it and destroyed it. what type of man am i. you think you have felt pain. i look at myself and i am pain. i push and push and push until i dont feel it. until i look at it and i know. i am pain. i work to be on top. when i look at myself i fall to the bottom. what type of man am i. that look you can see in your own eyes after you tear something away from another that meant more to them than life itself. that is destruction. that destruction is me. the feeling in your gut. knowing what is going to come and the remorse you live with every day. regret. i am regret. i look inside of it every day. so what type of man am i. pain, destruction and regret. will this ever seem to pass. is it going to pass. you are the world. the sun and the moon.showing me the light of the path i should take and lighting the night sky when all else falls dark. im falling dark. extinguishing the eternal flame of hope. all because i am pain, destruction, regret.

Dear writers,

My name is Danylo, I am from AlphaNovel team. AlphaNovel is a platform where you can publish your novel, find unique readers and get a stable income. 

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