forum Virtual Creative Writing Club, anyone?

Started July 06, 2019 by @ninja_violinist

tune

Yes, that is literally my favorite poem of hers. At one point I had watched it so many times that I almost memorized it.

Oh my gosh, yes please. If you don't mind, of course.

Gfgfgf it made me so emotional. I don’t want kids but like. That makes me entertain the idea of having them. She’s so good it’s unfair lmao

I’d be down, I just have to make sure to print the poem I’m reading or memorize it so my phone can be used to record. It won’t be great quality but oh well hhffgf

So uh. I wrote this for a main character from one of my stories. For a bit of context, his name is Artemis Strike, and he's a pirate. He and his mother sail on two ships. He is in charge of one, and answers only to her. This is about/part of his backstory.

---

The sun warms the
Earth. The moon controls
the tides. The tides control
the ocean. The ocean controls
my mother. My mother controls
our ships. I control
my ship. My crew. My crew
controls the ship. We
control the ship.

I used to be so
different, soft and
kind, a child without notion of what
a blade feels like against skin. Then my
father found me after years of
freedom, he stole me from
my mother and he brought me to
a place he called "home", but
it wasn't my home. It was a
prison that I could not escape, and there
I was disavowed of my childish notions
of kindness and love and soft warmth.
There my innocence was slaughtered, a
sacrifice to an uncaring god. I couldn't
stop screaming, even as he told me that
if I would just "be a man" then the pain
would stop. And I tried so
hard. I tried and tried and tried and cried
tears of blood. He lied. It never stopped
hurting.

And then it didn't anymore, I
learned how to make it stop, by
shutting down my heart and mind and
just taking it like a man. Like my father.
Like my older brother. I stopped
crying, I stopped being so soft and kind
and good. I became a monster for my
father, while waiting for my mother, until
I stopped waiting. I stopped waiting and I
ran away, back to the sea and the cradle of
the tides, I stowed away on
a merchant ship and I headed for
Tortuga to find my mother, to
show her what I had become. To show her
that she failed me when I had needed her
the most.

I found her in Tortuga, her and
the ships. The Reach and the Blade, and
their faithful crews. They did not
recognize me, for I was no longer a
soft and sweet little boy; I was a man
now. My father made me into a
man. A monster. A man. A monster.
I said that I was looking to join a
crew, that my captain had abandoned me,
left me to die.
Each word was true. My captain, my
mother. Abandoned me. Left me to
bleed. They said I could join, that
I was welcome. I smiled and laughed and
hid the emptiness inside.

Aboard my mother's ship as we sailed
from Tortuga, I said "Don't you know me,
Mother?" I took off the hat and I
lifted my chin and I waited for her to
see. See what monster her son had become, the
man my father had made from a soft
boy that was raised by the tides. She
stared at me and tears slid from her
eyes and she said, "Artemis… I'm
Sorry." And I hit her.
I hit
my mother.
Because she
Failed me.
She left me
to die and
my father took me
and made me into
A monster.

I hit my mother
because I
Failed her.
I promised her
that I would never
be a monster
like my father.
I failed her.
So I hit
her. And then
I cried,
Again.

sorry for being late, you guys! something came up suddenly on saturday, and by the time i realized i'd missed this, i figured i'd give people one more day to post something!

---

yamatsu: the prompt was already hilarious, and you just made it better. that artist has some of the most gorgeous art with the funniest titles, and you did great bringing that to life. i will say, it seems a bit disjointed and choppy, likely because it’s dialogue-only. an actual critique would be towards the end. while i do like the addition of the other problems and the Being’s offer to help, it seems a tiny bit forced, conversation-wise? there’s a chance that adding some more dialogue before that could help the build up to that. all in all, though, it’s funny and light for the most part, and you sprinkled in the serious issues well. i really do like it!

icefire: this one was absolutely heart-wrenching, and i both hated and loved that. you did really well with conveying the emotion in each line, and i honestly felt like i was really getting to know artemis. this line:

"There my innocence was slaughtered, a
sacrifice to an uncaring god."

was one of my favorites. it really is beautiful, and the metaphor(or possible truth, for all i know when it comes to characters), is insane. there was one problem i had, though, with it, and that was probably just how much information you gave us. literal poems are great, very much so, but you might have included just a bit more life story facts in their plain form in there than necessary. however, that's a pretty easy thing to fix if you want to, with just a little bit of editing!

you both did really good, and though there weren't many entries this week, they were great ones!

prompt time!! they aren't as good as ninja's, for sure, but i hope i do the prompting justice for this week.

---

this image gave me some hella writing vibes, when i found it while browsing the other day

---

the music prompt! it's a bit different, i feel like, but instrumentals allow for a lot of creative freedom. also, i'm vibing with it and keep replaying it.

---

"Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!"

William Mearns Antigonish is a near and dear poem to my heart, and has a bit of interesting history behind it. it's got a sense of almost creepy desperation, which is always interesting to write.

---

definitely looking forward to what you guys post this week!

icefire: this one was absolutely heart-wrenching, and i both hated and loved that. you did really well with conveying the emotion in each line, and i honestly felt like i was really getting to know artemis. this line:

"There my innocence was slaughtered, a
sacrifice to an uncaring god."

was one of my favorites. it really is beautiful, and the metaphor(or possible truth, for all i know when it comes to characters), is insane. there was one problem i had, though, with it, and that was probably just how much information you gave us. literal poems are great, very much so, but you might have included just a bit more life story facts in their plain form in there than necessary. however, that's a pretty easy thing to fix if you want to, with just a little bit of editing!

Aww thank you!! Yeah I love that line too, tbh. It's not literal, it's metaphorical. Yeah, on reread there is a lot of excess information, which I may cut down on later. Thank you!!

Couldn't finish the one I was working on a while ago, but I just wrote a thing and, yeah, here ya go.

Fallen Hero

“Toni, we shouldn’t be here.”

The sharp-eyed boy cut a glare over at me, and I wanted to shrink beneath his gaze, but I was the leader, I was the one that condoned this secret mission.

I shouldn’t have caved.

“Well, we’re here, so what’s the point in turning back now?” Antonio scoffed, twirling his axes between his fingers. The ghastly green glow emitting from his skin cast an eerie light over the carved faces of rock, mixing with the other colors. My pale skin remained dull, only washed in the rainbow of colors from my companions.

I shouldn’t be their leader.

“If something happens to any of us, Toni, how are we supposed to explain that?” I shot back. He didn’t like that. His green eyes narrowed even further. The sight reminded me of a snake.

“Nothing’s going to happen to us. They’re all asleep. We’ll be fine.”

I shouldn’t have listened to him.

Everything faded into that familiar darkness, then hazily resurfaced into a new scene. The echo of my lonely footprints rang in my ears. I wanted to scream at myself to back away, to not open that ornate door, to turn away and drag everyone out of them.

I should’ve forced them all to listen to me.

But I didn’t, couldn’t. We weren’t really a team, never were. What everyone saw was a falsehood, a mask over the disorganized mess of people who were trying to stay at the top.

Old and rusty hinges screamed in warning as my unassuming hand pushed open the door. Nocturnal eyes dared to peek around the corner.

A shrill and pained scream tore through my throat.

My eyes, my eyes, my eyes.

Burning.

Nothingness.

More screaming.

Not from me.

My team.

An earth-rattling roar.

Rocks hitting the ground.

Large ones.

My feet pounding against the cobbled floor.

Blood. I can taste the blood in the air.

Who’s hurt?

Who’s dead?

Thrown against the wall.

Hands grappling at my arm.

Stumbling out of the caves.

Horsely yelling for everyone to run.

Out, out, out.

We need out.

The earth shook.

A beast roared with a shriek of a killer bird.

Darkness.

So dark.

People shouting my name, everyone’s name.

Two didn’t respond.

Where, where, where.

The doors of the temple sliding shut with a thunder.

Out.

My eyes flew open, but I saw nothing, felt nothing. No beating of my heart, no grass between my fingers. No clattering of the city, chirping of birds, clacking of hoots, creaking of carts, crashing of waves. No explosions or tearing of the ground from demigods training. Nothing but nothingness.

Right.

The land of heroes.

I shouldn’t be here.

I don’t deserve to be here.

My death is deserved.

Was deserved.

Cruel, though, that the only time I can see is when I dream.

My punishment, I suppose, for what I failed to do.

A good thing, perhaps, that I died before she could ever meet me, judge me, be tied down to someone like me.

But, I sometimes dream of what could’ve been.

Okay okay. This ones kinda important, both because it’s generally important to me and because I’m performing this one at my school’s talent show on the 18th, which is terrifying. Anyway, any and all tips, suggestions, and critiques are a godsend because the end feels slightly clunky. As usual

---

My ceiling is covered in glow in the dark stars.
They’re kind of bunched together right over my bed,
A mix of homemade and real life constellations that look
Like somebody painted glue on the ceiling and threw the box of stars
Up.
In a way, they did.
I count them when I can’t fall asleep,
Even though it never actually slows my mind at all.
Usually, I just get distracted by the shadows,
Or the sound of my old house creaking,
Shrinking and growing
Breathing softly as it settles down for the night.

I’m a realist with the heart of a romantic,
Drawing hearts in the fogged up windows of the bus I take to school
And talking to stars.
I really love flower crowns, the aesthetic of them and the way they look,
But I can’t make them.
I never learned how, grew up moving too fast to sit on the grass
And learn how to weave the stems of these living things together.
Spent more time escaping than watching and suddenly
The world had caught up to me,
Blew by in a summer breeze carrying the scent of sunscreen and lemonade.
I want to write love letters,
Little notes of ‘hey gorgeous’ and ‘your eyes light up when you smile’ but unfortunately
I have the handwriting of a drunk doctor.
There’s a reason I print my poems instead of writing them.

When someone hands me an earbud there’s a high chance I’ll take it.
Something about watching someone listening to their favorite song
The ghostly smile and head nod
Feels like worship.
You know?
It seems almost intrusive, looking in
On a private sort of moment.
Vulnerability is terrifying, but a backdrop of bass or instrumentals
Makes it so easy to take on any challenge,
Makes it easy to open up unknowingly.
My best friend sends me her current favorite song and I feel closer
To her than possible,
Two thousand, six hundred and ninety four miles absolutely nothing
Looking right in through a window into the mind.
It’s a feeling I never want to give up.

I could talk on end,
About the drowsy comfort of being held,
Or the petrichor following a dry spell.
But you don’t need to hear about the warm wind wrapping around anything like a hug
To understand the simplicity and wonder of the world.
Maybe I am a little bit of a romantic,
But the world is kind of romantic too, so maybe
It’s a little justified.

Straight up just posting a bonus because I don’t have anyone else to share it with nd it’s different than my normal style

---

To kids writing Shakespeare quotes on their desks,
Eyes heavy with sleep and the knowledge of things
Prophets of the teenage dilemma.
Martyrs, with books and knives tucked in the pockets
Of their bags, bloodied fists and wicked tongues.
Bringers of change.

The world is harsh,
They are harsher.
Pine trees against a grey winter sky holding.
To what is unknown but soon.
Soon the skies will break open,
The same way they do
Golden ichor dripping from the cracks.
Molten is the anger,
Warm is the hope.

Salud to the reckless, skinned knees and torn hearts
Mouths tasting of blood and smoke.
Paladins walking, ageless and armorless.
Representations of the youth long ignored,
Foundations cracking under the weight of the world.
Atlases holding, waiting, breaths bated.

Patience is a virtue
Wrath a sin well known,
Both held tight in bloodied fists.
Watch not the waking,
No,
Watch the rinsing.
Gods of a pantheon forgotten
Waiting.
Not any longer.

Okay so for the first poem.

Unless you really like it/have it there for a specific reason, I might take out "kind of" in the second line. I feel like the flow is a little weird rn if that's not intentional.

"A mix of homemade and real life constellations that look
Like somebody painted glue on the ceiling and threw the box of stars
Up." Fantastic use of enjambment. Beautiful

Again, unless you have it there intentionally, I would take out the word "really" in this line: "I really love flower crowns, the aesthetic of them and the way they look,"

"There’s a reason I print my poems instead of writing them." Idk why but this line hit so hard. I love it.

Oh my god the whole stanza about music is just. So beautiful and so raw and so relatable, I love it so much.

So "petrichor" is my new favorite word, thank you for introducing it to me

I agree that the flow of the last part is a little bit off, but I'm not totally sure how to fix it. The only suggestion I could think of is maybe put a period at the end of "Maybe I am a little bit of a romantic," instead of a comma?

Overall though, this is a beautiful, beautiful poem and I loved it more with each line

Thanks moxie! You’re right, taking out those bits does help a lot, and the period helps with the written format a ton. I’m glad you liked it!

Also, petrichor really is one of the best words ever

Based on the image prompt. I'm sorry it's so long!

---

I.
Cael had fallen to earth in a ball of fire, into a blanket of frozen snow. The remnants of his loose tunic hung from his body, smoldering and burning, as his halo twisted and shrank, as the light went from a glowing warmth to a searing heat, as his purity and his goodness and light were twisted, turned. As his halo seared into his hair, his skin, his skull, broken and twisted. Horns. His wings, gorgeous and white and glowing, began to blacken. He screamed his throat raw as he felt his feathers blacken, as if burning. He was Fallen. He was no longer Seraphim.

He was sobbing, hands fisted in the snow, his halo turned to horns and his wings black as night, nevermore to be that white, pure glow that he used to have. He gazed up at the sky with broken blue eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Please…" he whispered to an uncaring god. "There has to be something. Please. I'm sorry. I'll serve, I-I'll…I'll…please don't do this to me. Please!"

There was no response. Only the cold darkness of the Earth's night as the edges of the circle began to burn down.

So he got up, pulled himself to his feet and shivered, drawing the ragged tunic closer around his thin body. He started walking, not caring where he went. He needed to find people. His wings twitched painfully, and he hid them from Mortal view, along with his horns, walking barefoot in the snow.

It was hours before he found civilization. Hours of walking in the snow, wondering if it would be better just to lay down and die, accept his fate. He was Fallen. He was disgusting. Demonic. He had rebelled against God and it didn't matter why. He was no longer allowed home, unless he redeemed himself somehow. He didn't know how to do that. No Fallen had ever figured it out. So he was doomed to this, for eternity. He walked into the town, blue eyes glazed, movements mechanical.

Hands touched his shoulders, fingers lifted his chin to look up at a handsome face. "My god!" he winced at the word "god", blinking, trying to focus. "You poor thing! You've been wandering in the snow, like this?" the hands moved to his back, guiding him as he stumbled. "Come with me."

The person was male, taller than Cael by quite a bit. They had darker skin, curly dark hair and a chiseled face. A strong body. Cael was half-delirious from cold and pain now. As a Seraphim, even a Fallen one, he was better off than a mortal would have been. But he was so cold he couldn't feel his limbs anymore. Each brush of his hands against his skin felt like a foreign touch.

He was guided into a warm home, pushed gently down into a plush chair before a roaring fire. A soft blanket was wrapped around his thin, shivering body.

"You poor thing…how did this happen?" the voice asked, warm hands touching his chin, gentle. He leaned into that gentleness. It had been so long since he had felt a gentle touch. So long since he had known anything but pain, torture for betraying his creator. His eyelids fluttered slightly as he turned his head, cheek pressing into the other male's palm.

The human pulled away. "I'll get some hot chocolate started, alright? You just sit here and warm up." the gentle touch disappeared, and Cael closed his eyes tiredly, curling into the chair.

He was awoken by a touch to his shoulder. He shot upright, eyes flying wide as he stared up at the figure.

"Woah woah, hey, shh, calm down." he recognized the voice. The man from….from earlier. He focused in on that. The man had a faint tracery of stubble on his jaws, and his eyes were a warm hazel gold. "Yeah. You're alright. You're safe here." the voice soothed, hand gently stroking his shoulder.

Cael relaxed again, somehow trusting this person instinctively. He was still lying on the chair, he realized, though with the way the shadows had changed, he guessed that it was now morning. "Who are you?" he asked, his mouth dry and his voice cracking.

"My name is Jason Matthews." the man replied gently. "I go by either Jason or Jay. And you are?"

Cael licked his dry lips, pushing himself to a sitting position. "C-Cael." he stammered out painfully.

"Just Cael?" Jason frowned. "You…you don't have a last name?" he raised his eyebrows, seeming confused.

Cael shrugged helplessly. "No." he whispered.

II.
Eight Months Later…
"What would you like to do today, darling?" Jason's voice rumbled against Cael's skin, and he stretched, rolling over to face his boyfriend.

"Hmm." Cael hummed, wrapping his arms around Jason's shoulders. "I don't know." he pressed a lazy kiss to Jason's jaw, blue eyes smiling and happy as he felt Jason's hands run through his golden hair. "What would you like?"

Jason had helped him. Had taken him in and taken care of him, and somewhere along the way, they had fallen in love. Cael had, just last month, told Jason the truth of what he was. A Fallen angel, exiled to Earth to suffer. Jason had been stunned, but had eventually accepted it. Cael still kept his wings hidden for ease, but sometimes he let them out. Jason, they discovered, loved to pet those black feathers, and Cael loved the feeling of Jason's gentle touch on those sensitive limbs.

Jason smiled, kissed Cael's cheek. "Let's just be lazy today, yeah?" he gave that half-smile that Cael loved so much, the one where the dimple appeared in his left cheek.

Cael nuzzled Jason's bare chest, their legs still tangled together. "Sounds like a good plan to me." he replied contentedly, eyes closed. He wanted this to be his forever. Wanted to always wake up curled in Jason's protecting arms, wanted to always know that someone loved him and cared and wanted him as much as he loved and wanted them.

Jason's stomach rumbled. "However…I do want breakfast." the darker male added sheepishly. Cael peeked up at him and saw that that half smile was back. His heart thrilled with delight.

"Hmm, of course you do." Cael sat up, stretching and running his hands through his hair. He got out of bed, searching around for the clothing that they had strewn around so haphazardly the night before. He laughed a little as he got dressed. "Let's feed that stomach of yours, then, shall we?"

Jason let out a laugh of his own, getting out of the bed and getting dressed. He kissed the top of Cael's head fondly. "Of course."

They left the bedroom and into the kitchen. Jason turned on the griddle and began making eggs, as Cael got out the plates and utensils and started the coffee. Lazy kisses were exchanged as they worked quietly, soft words occasionally murmured, questions asked and answered. Cael leaned his head on Jason's shoulder as Jason finished the eggs, and they sat together at the table.

"So. I forgot to tell you yesterday, but this weird letter came in the mail." Jason said as they finished. "It's addressed to you. There's…there's no return address."

Cael felt a chill run up his spine. Addressed to him? No one they knew would have bothered writing a letter…"Show me." he said softly, setting his fork down.

Jason brought over an envelope, setting it on the table and sliding it across the table to Cael. The envelope was black, and not a normal black. This was a black that seemed to absorb the light.

Cael picked it up with trembling hands, fear winding its way around his throat. Who could this be from? But he already knew. Knew that it must be from another Fallen, or a Demon. Why, he didn't know. His name was written on the front in silver ink, the words curling, cursive. He opened it carefully, read the later inside. He dropped the letter and envelope, jumping out of his seat, trembling. "We have to go." he breathed.

"Go…where? Cael, what's wrong?" Jason got up from his seat, coming to Cael and wrapping his arms around the Fallen angel. "What is it, love?"

"I-it's…we…" he shuddered, pressing his face into Jason's neck. "They're hunting me. We have to leave. Now. Please, Jason. I don't want…I don't want to die. I don't want you to die. Please." he was begging, clinging to his boyfriend.

Jason's throat bobbed. "I…okay. We can go." Cael knew that his boyfriend was putting so much trust in him with this decision. "We'll go, okay?"

They packed up, and left town, telling their friends that they were leaving for a while. Cael couldn't stop being afraid. Were they being followed?

III.

Cael was sobbing. They had been found. They had fought. They had lost, and now Jason lay bleeding out on the ground, and Cael couldn't go to him, held captive in a pentagram drawn from Jason's blood. He was on his knees, sobbing and reaching at the border, desperate. Desperate.

"Cael…" he heard his name leave Jason's lips, broken, a prayer.

A prayer. Cael sobbed harder. "Jason!" his voice broke. "I'm here." he tried to comfort the man he loved. "I'm here. I'm so so sorry, Jason, this is my fault. This is my fault." he dissolved into tears. He himself was bleeding too, weak and trembling. But he would survive. Jason, he knew, would not. Jason was dying, and Cael couldn't even ease his passing.

A scream of anger and pain and devastation ripped from the Fallen angel's throat. "Jason!" he screamed, sobbing and sniffling. He pushed himself to his feet, attacking the pentagram with everything he had. It wasn't enough.

He sagged back to the ground, defeated. His wings were broken, shattered, feathers littering the ground. His horns were chipped. His wrist was broken, ribs bruised and battered, blood leaking from wounds all over. But he would live. "Jason…" he whispered.

He directed his eyes to the sky, lips moving in a prayer. "Please, God. Strike me down if you must, but please, let him live." he whispered. "Please please please. I know I've disappointed you, but please. Please. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to die because of me. Please."

There was no answer. No answer from the heavens, except that the pentagram was erased. Jason couldn't be saved, but Cael would be granted this final boon.

He rushed to Jason's side, half falling over Jason's body. "Jason!" he wept, voice ragged.

"Cael…" Jason's bloody hand brushed Cael's cheek. "I love you. I'm sorry." his voice was soft. Dying.

Cael could hardly see through his tears. "No no no no no, Jason, no, you aren't dying, please, this is all my fault, I'm so sorry, I love you so much, please don't die on me, please I love you!" he rambled, breath catching in a sob.

Jason's breath was broken. The man's chest slowed, and stopped, never to move again.

Cael screamed, broken. He was Fallen. He would never be happy again. Never ever. He had lost the only person he would ever love.

Y'all want to know who's an absolutely fabulous human?? that's right, it's @crocs!! who did an excellent job hosting last week!!
(if anyone ever feels like hosting, just let me know! I'd always love to get more people and opinions on board)

that being said, it looks like y'all are back to my questionable feedback this week:

@Circe-needs-a-creativity-recharge
this is a hecking good concept?? I love this on so many levels?? It takes a while to figure out what's going on but then, once I realised, I had that delightful "aha" moment of being able to go back and understand all the formatting decisions and just. I love it.
anyway
one thing I noticed - if Antonio is twirling axes, like as in multiple heavy large blades, I'd probably use a different word instead of fingers because first reading this made me think of like… twirling a pencil
and maybe this is just me, but maybe in this bit:

Old and rusty hinges screamed in warning as my unassuming hand pushed open the door. Nocturnal eyes dared to peek around the corner.

I wonder if "unassuming" and "nocturnal" are the best choice of adjective here? I get what you're trying to say, but I do feel it's a tiny bit clunky?

either way, I really really loved this! Thank you so much for sharing!

@crocs
both of these are fabulous. on many levels.
first one - it's so winsome and hopeful with just a hint of wistfulness and that's exactly what I needed today haha
favourite line: I’m a realist with the heart of a romantic,/ Drawing hearts in the fogged up windows of the bus I take to school/ And talking to stars.
Moxie already pointed a lot of the stuff I was going to say - the main point being those words which I assume are your everyday hedge words (kind of, really, just). while they can help make it feel more conversational and like spoken language, I'm not sure they always have that effect here? so reevaluating those is a really easy way to improve the flow.
I wonder if "their aesthetic" would flow better than "the aesthetic of them"?
but yeah. not much left to say, tbh.

second one: this feels like almost the opposite of the other one and I am also here for that? it's jagged and rough and feels like an angry prophecy. idk. I get a very specific vibe from it that's difficult to codify but it's super vivid and I love it.
favourite line: Patience is a virtue/ Wrath a sin well known,/ Both held tight in bloodied fists.
One part that I read several times and wondered if the ambiguity is intentional is "Pine trees against a grey winter sky holding./ To what is unknown but soon." I'm not 100% sure what that's meant to say but maybe that's also the point? idk. I love the image though.

thank you so much for sharing! hope your talent show goes well! assuming the world doesn't end in the next four days

@Icefire
This went from 100 to 0 to 100 real quick and I hurt now
you've really leaned into that ancient art of "make the reader care about a character, want the character to be happy, give them a sense of what real happiness looks like, and then take it all away again" huh
I really enjoyed the characterisation in this one! Cael is a fun narrator, the descriptions work well without being dramatic, and you've got a general good policy of show don't tell going on.
one thing I noticed which was probably just for the sake of the plot was that even though it's from Cael's perspective, we don't get to see the contents of the letter that he reads? so it's kind of keeping us at a distance even though the general narration is pretty intimate. idk. I can also see the appeal of not having to write ominous death threats.

either way, thank you for sharing!!

and prompts for this week:

Image prompt: "Millionaires" by Jakob Eirich

Music Prompt: "A Story Told" by Frank Wildhorn and Jack Murphy (from The Count of Monte Cristo Musical)

Word Prompt: I got it from pinterest idk

"Now, will that be cash, credit, or memories?"

unfortunately, my talent show was cancelled along with my entire school, basically. there's an online competition I'm debating entering, since I can't do any of the ones I was looking forward to. but thank you for the critiques! you're right on pretty much everything, the flow has improved a lot better

as for that problem line, its supposed to be one, funny enough. it was supposed to leave a but of questioning there, but if it's more just confusing, just let me know

@Icefire
This went from 100 to 0 to 100 real quick and I hurt now
you've really leaned into that ancient art of "make the reader care about a character, want the character to be happy, give them a sense of what real happiness looks like, and then take it all away again" huh
I really enjoyed the characterisation in this one! Cael is a fun narrator, the descriptions work well without being dramatic, and you've got a general good policy of show don't tell going on.
one thing I noticed which was probably just for the sake of the plot was that even though it's from Cael's perspective, we don't get to see the contents of the letter that he reads? so it's kind of keeping us at a distance even though the general narration is pretty intimate. idk. I can also see the appeal of not having to write ominous death threats.

either way, thank you for sharing!!

Oh thank you!!
Ha I'm not really sorry. I wanted it to hurt lmao. But thanks!
Yeah I got lazy there. I just didn't feel like writing out the whole fricking letter, so I left it unsaid.

Based on the image prompt

"WE'RE FUCKIN' MILLIONAIRES, BABY!"

The old, rusty Camaro screamed down the desert highway as a caravan of police cars were in hot pursuit. Clyde slammed the gas as soon as the sirens came on and Bonny leaned out of the passenger window with an Uzi, peppering the front of the lead car. It swerved off the road and was clipped by the car behind it, setting off a chain reaction and causing a pileup of three or four more cars.

"Good shootin', honey!" Clyde laughed as Bonny pulled herself back into her seat. "Buckle up!"

Clyde dropped the car into third gear and the pair sped off into the noonday sun. The robbery went off without a hitch. First, Clyde stole the armored car an hour before it was supposed to get to the bank. Bonny busted the door open and loaded the money into the car. By the time the cops noticed, they were already skipping town.

"Those pigs sure caught up fast, didn't they?" Bonny said, twisting herself around to look out the dusty window.

"We ain't outta the woods yet, babe. You got the shotgun back there too, right?"

"Yup!" She racked it once for emphasis, a shell flying out of the open window and bouncing onto the highway. "Whoops."

Clyde merely shook his head and kept driving. It would be at least a few more hours until they could cross the Mexican border, but time was already on their side. A buddy of theirs was already waiting at the border, a pair of bolt-cutters in hand. Hopefully, at least. He was confident in his driving, but there'd be no way the car could survive going through the checkpoint unless there was no one there and the guards were asleep. The chances of that happening were zero-to-none.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the anxiety began to set in. The money was theirs, but the cops were going to be out in force. There was no turning back. They were gonna blow this shit on hookers, drugs, and enough booze in Cancùn to last a lifetime. It was better than rotting in the New Mexico sun with nothing to do except work for peanuts.

Soon, the border began to appear over the horizon. A truck towing a large, curved flatbed was suspiciously close to the border, but the bed was positioned like a ramp going over the border wall. A patrol agent was taking down the information of the driver, who wasn't on the road at all, what was he doing there?

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Clyde asked.

"You don't wanna find Jimmy?" Bonny asked, looking both ways down the fence. No one was there aside from the truck, the bed, and the cop.

"This might be our only chance."

"Fine. Gun it!"

And gun it, he did. The Camaro roared as Clyde turned off the road and onto the sands. There was enough traction and power to keep it at 90.

KA-BUMP!

The car jostled and soared off of the bed. Barbed wire nearly shredded the bottom of the car, but there were only a few scratches, luckily. Bonny and Clyde didn't have time to think, as there was a loud crash behind them. Apparently, another car tried the same thing but only managed to hit the fence.

"Wait, was that ramp for someone else?" Bonny asked. Clyde tried to turn around. "Go! Go! Keep driving!"

"Sucks for that guy if it was. We'll just call Jimmy when we get to the next town."

As Bonny and Clyde sped off into the Sonoran desert, the sun began to sink low into the sky.

Hope that ramp thing doesn't come back to bite us…

@Circe-needs-a-creativity-recharge
this is a hecking good concept?? I love this on so many levels?? It takes a while to figure out what's going on but then, once I realised, I had that delightful "aha" moment of being able to go back and understand all the formatting decisions and just. I love it.
anyway
one thing I noticed - if Antonio is twirling axes, like as in multiple heavy large blades, I'd probably use a different word instead of fingers because first reading this made me think of like… twirling a pencil
and maybe this is just me, but maybe in this bit:

Old and rusty hinges screamed in warning as my unassuming hand pushed open the door. Nocturnal eyes dared to peek around the corner.

I wonder if "unassuming" and "nocturnal" are the best choice of adjective here? I get what you're trying to say, but I do feel it's a tiny bit clunky?

either way, I really really loved this! Thank you so much for sharing!

Thank you!! Yeah, I know that it's a bit confusing at first, especially without the background knowledge that Crocs and I have, but I had the sudden urge to do a thing with this character I made and his wobbly backstory (it's still in development), and this is the baby of that urge to do a thing.

For the axes… you have a point. In my mind, they aren't big and heavy? They're, like, well kinda like these. Also, these guys are demigods that train non-stop. They got muscle and skill, as well as a means to get light-weight but strong metals. But again, it's all backstory that you wouldn't have gotten.

Ahh, yes. I knew something was up with those lines.

This is not my best and has a long way to go and I don't really like the last half but if anyone could take a look at this or even just read it, I'd be really greatful

It starts with Hello.
It starts with sitting together
It starts with texting
It starts friendship with a boy.
It starts with something you were never able to do before.

My friends looks say I was naive not to notice this sooner.
I don’t tell them that I knew
I don’t tell them about the blinders I put up
I don’t tell them that the blinders are a shield

It starts with Hello.
It turns into hints filling up your lap like rainwater
It turns into Didn’t you see this coming?
It turns into not being able to tell anyone
I have already taken up too much space in this conversation

Because you don’t want the “boo who’s”
You don’t want the people that say “poor you” while you watch jealousy drip from their words
Being texted that much
Is a privilege
Doesn’t matter where the flypaper gaze comes from
As long as you have it

The boy doesn’t mean any harm
The boy never means any harm
The boy means to rob you of your time,
Of your voice.

He wants to make a butterfly out of the caterpillar of your friendship.
Call it a magical transformation.
Rewrite himself as the dashing prince
Not the dragon.
Never the dragon.
He wants to steal you
Sea witch style
He melds together the words “girl” and “friend”
In the forgery of his imagination.

I learn about the feelings of entitlement to my smile
To my “yes”
To my “of course”
To my conversation
To my niceties

I watch the whispers float by
The eye rolls from across the room
They think I can’t hear
I stand on my chair and yell.

Get down from the throne
That you think I am standing on
Join me on the ground
Where we all belong

These roses riddled with thorns
Do not make me special
I did not ask for them
I am just the one that was too nice not to not take them

My friends tell me I am too nice
I know I am being too nice.
But I have gotten very good at being a lush carpet
Or a beaten down path
Take your pick
Take your metaphor

Because this is what you wanted, girl.
Right?
To not be lonely?
To be with anyone that will take you?
Right?
Right?
Right?

What use is the word friend
Without the word boy clinging to the front of it?

Loneliness is different at night-
It’s that time of sacred silence
where you know you shouldn’t be awake.
Yet something calls you to break that intricate schedule of sleep
to listen to nature hush and hum in your wake.

No one is awake to listen to you
even if sound never leaves.
Illuminated by nothing but your own lonesome.
It’s addicting somehow
to keep your eyes open,
to want to lose that needed sleep.

It pushes me closer to something so needed-
that addiction that shouldn’t be considered anything but a bad habit.

every time you hang up without a goodbye,
it’s when I feel closer to a place I left behind.
Tears threaten to run down a track so worn
but never do.

I want to reach out, but find myself unable.
I hit a wall that I had not hit before-
Why are you blocking me out?

It’s too quiet without your laugh. Too dark without your smile.

too painful without your soul in your words.

I fill it with music,
silence pushes too hard.
The whisper of an unknown voice,
singing

the beat of a drum

the twang of a synth

I fill it with the darkness of night, which you are shy under,
now that I’m out

Please come back.

I miss you.

(Okay, so I've been stalking this chat for like, a while, but I have to say)

MY GOODNESS, EMI THAT WAS B E A U T I F U L. It is a really great poem and I'd have to say my favourite part was:

No one is awake to listen to you
even if sound never leaves.

I loved that so much. Thank you for sharing this, Emi. And I'm really sorry about this experience you're going through.

Thank you. Thanks for letting me share. I just wrote this on a whim, like the other ones I wrote lol. It was therapeutic to write about, thank you for letting me.

Of course, Emi. I understand how therapeutic writing can be. <3 And that Shakespeare death test thing-a-mic-bitch was right. I'm a terrible poet lmao.

moxie!!! we dont often see much from you but when we do, its incredible! I'm living for the

"Get down from the throne
That you think I am standing on
Join me on the ground
Where we all belong"

which is just. pure gold. iconic. I like the similar sounding words that add to a sort of rhythm of the stanza, and pull it together. I do think some parts of this were a bit clunky and could just be fine tuned or something, like the seemingly random capitalization or the sentences that go on a bit longer than others. other than things like that though, I really like it and the meaning. it's an issue a lot of people face, never being able to say no and feeling guilted into friendship and then other things when it's too late. you did such a good job bringing that to life!

and emi!!! babe babe babe this is so good. I love the repetition of the opening lines in those last couple stanzas, the 'I fill it with-'. it's so. so n i c e. I do think an evening out of lines in each stanza would lend to a better viewing format, but I really cant find much to critique at all, and I hope things turn out okay between you two, if they haven't already