forum Weekly writing prompts?
Started by @Nomadicd20 group
tune

people_alt 84 followers

Deleted user

She loved everything about him, even his inside. He was the perfect man for her, beautiful ocean blue eyes, and beautiful mushroom brown hair that framed his face perfectly. His once twinkling eyes were now lifeless as she stood over him, his guts and organs spilling out. After all, she loved everything about him, even his insides.

Ik it's terrible, but I tried.

@TheHufflepuffThatWatchesAnime

No More Love
You left me there, right in the dust,
Did you think you could come back? No, you lost my trust.
What was the point of this?
All of it useless, even that one last kiss.
Was any of this worth it?
Even after that heartbreaking split?
It is now just awkward, being near you,
You didn’t see through my point of view.
You have disappeared, torn out of my life,
Gone, and left me in my strife.
You were selfish, only thinking of you,
No more love, I hate you too.

(This is a poem I wrote like 3 years ago, so…I learned a lot since then…I don't know if I really like this poem though)

@that1_T0ad language

(Told from MC's point of view)
After being hunted for a few months–living in hiding, scavenging for food, and stealing–I've finally been caught by the Supremes… who I suspect have one of two plans for me. Either they want to return to me to my master, or they are taking me to the Alpha House to be interrogated. The latter is seems more accurate. I already see the city's tall, glittery buildings looming above the train. Never in all my life have I seen such beauty. I give my head a hard shake. The same men who built these towers banished your tribe into slavery, I remind myself. None of the oh-so-strong things they have contracted are worthy of your admiration. Just prepare yourself. It won't be long before we arrive… If the stories are true, the Alpha House is not something to be taken lightly…

Deleted user

Avery slipped onto a train, walking through the crowd of people to find an empty seat. He sits next to a young adult male with silver hair, the silver hair was not uncommon. But what drew Avery's gaze was the man's eyes. The eyes were white, well more like pale cream, they looked like they had no iris. A stark comparison to Avery's eyes, which were dark brown almost completely black. Avery studied the man, taking in the familiar features. Where do I know him from? He thinks.
its a work in progress, an actual part of my story.//

@blue_topaz

Morrigan's heart beat in terrified tremors that shook her whole body, an earthquake of regret and fear and memories and years upon years of confusion. On her face was a mask of fierce calm, her eyes sending out the message 'leave me alone'. The train conductor was making some sort of announcement in the background, but she could hardly hear it over the sound of her painfully loud breathing. It was as if she was submerged under water, a current of memories dragging her deeper and deeper. An icy numbness had begun to overtake her, and with it, a detached determination. She slipped out of her compartment and into the aisle, letting her tangled curtain of black hair partially obscure her eyes. Everything was moving in slow motion around her, the constant chugging of the train engine muffled in her ears, the chatter of passengers fading to almost nothing as she made her way to the dining cart, in some sort of trance. Colours and smells blurred past her, the only word she could think filling up every thought, unearthing memories and re-opening the wounds she had so carefully stitched back together. Barry. The only thing she could hear was the sound of his laugh echoing through her mind. The only thing she could see was the hazy image of his face that her brain was constructing. All of these were in her head. It wasn't until they became a reality that she snapped out of her daze. Her bubble popped. The colour and sound returned.

And there he was, all messy brown hair and glasses and button-down flannels and laughter. Sitting at a table only a few meters away, lifting a delicate teacup to his lips. Barry. The sight of him only strengthened her resolve. Morrigan straightened her back and dipped a hand into the messenger bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. Her fingers brushed cool metal, a nozzle, a handle. A trigger. The reality of it made her want to laugh out loud. She was on a homeward-bound train to London, in the same compartment as her best friend and worst enemy, with a gun in her bag. She was coming home, and she was returning with a dead body.

Barry laughed again, the sound of it steeling her nerves. She wet her lips. Dipped her hand back into her bag. Wrapped her fingers around the handle of the gun. "Hey, Barry!" He paused, looking around confusedly until his eyes feel on her and the teacup fell from his hand, shattering on the floor. Morrigan raised the gun. Pointed it at him. Someone screamed a warning. She pulled the trigger.