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Daily Writing #4

My writing prompt for the day is: The color green

Walking in to Cindy’s room, one could tell that she had obsessive compulsive disorder when it came to the color green. Not only was the room covered in green items, but each was a different shade of green. The bed was draped in lime sheets with a shamrock-shaded quilt, and each of its two pillows sat at the headboard wearing a vomit-like color. Even the headboard had been painted with the color of grass, which blended in perfectly with what appeared to be walls made of algae. Cindy’s bookcase was green, along with all of the garments that were stuffed into its open drawers. Each one would probably match in some way with the dresses in the closet, which all looked like they had been slathered in mint chocolate chip ice cream. It was clear that Cindy needed help in a bad way.

Daily Writing #3

Once again, sorry for not posting a prompt yesterday. I wasn’t able to get to a computer again.

 

Just a quick daily writing today; more like a concept outline or prologue. I didn’t have much time to write.

 

Today my writing prompt is: Every time you fall asleep, a year passes instantly.

 

When I first figured out what was happening to me, I told my parents that I wasn’t going to be around for much longer. With years come age, and my years were going much faster than theirs. They were confused at first, and they didn’t believe me. They wanted to know where I had been, and whether or not I was okay. I cried. I remember that more than anything else. I was sixteen at the time, and every time I went to sleep a year would instantly go by.

I disappeared. The first time it happened, I woke up in my bed and walked into the living room as if it were any other day. My parents thought I was a ghost. They hugged and kissed me, making sure I was really there.

“Is it you, son?” My father kept asking.

“It’s really him.” My mother said.

I was more confused than I had ever been at the time. My “reappearance” was followed with trips to the police station, and then to a psychiatrist when they didn’t believe that I didn’t have any remembrance of the past year. My parents brought me home, shaken. For the next thirteen years, or days, I would be terrified.

During the third year, or day, I told my parents that I was going to sleep, disappearing, and waking up after a year had passed. I had figured it out, but they thought I had gone insane. That’s when I told them that I wouldn’t be around for much longer, and that I was going to age quickly, and die within a few decades, or days in my case. That didn’t happen.

I didn’t age, and as soon as I figured that out I disappeared from my parents for good. I started to spend my days wandering around instead in places where I wouldn’t be recognized as the missing kid that I was. Ten years passed. Then, almost instantly, a hundred years had gone by. I’m afraid of what the next 100 days or years will bring, because I’m not ageing at all, and I very well might live this way forever.

Daily Writing #2

I am sorry that I did not post a prompt yesterday. I was not able to get to a computer.

 

Please note that this writing does not relate to me in any way. It is a work of fiction.

 

Today my writing prompt is: Something you’ve been afraid of since you were a child.

 

“I hear you,” I said to the air.

“Good. Now listen.” The voice was pleasant. It was the voice of a woman whispering gently into my ear. I felt as though I could feel her holding me. Rocking me gently. Like a child.

“Who are you?” I asked. Luckily no one was around to hear me seemingly talk to myself in my empty apartment building.

“That doesn’t matter. You have to listen to me now, or you’ll miss your opportunity. I can give you what you want, but you must listen.”

“Alright.” The woman continued to rock me.

“I have business to attend to, and I need you to help me. I have been watching you for a long time, keeping you safe. But now is the time when I finally need you.”

“I’ve been hearing you in my head for years,” I whispered. “You’ve been keeping me safe?”

“Yes. I am your guardian, and I must ask a favor.” I gripped the edge of my sofa, wishing I could see whoever was talking to me.

“Am I insane?”

“You are not. You are gifted. With me.” I could feel the woman stop rocking me. I could feel her staring into my eyes. “I need you. Your body. To carry out the business I have been tasked with.”

“My body?” I asked as my voice quivered.

“Yes. I need you to let me take you. Just for a while. Then you can see what I must do. I am an angel of heaven.” As I heard the word, “angel”, the word almost sprang out of me.

“Yes!” I said. “Okay. Take me. Then I’ll go to heaven right?”

“Of course. I know that is what you’ve wanted for so long, that going to Hell is what you fear.”

“I have.”

“Then I shall take you.”

I felt my body shiver, and the spirit of the woman spread throughout my body. Then, unspeakable pain. I screamed.

“What!? What’s going on!” The fire in my body raged on. The voice of the woman was gone. It was replaced with one of darkness.

“You have given in to me. I am Lucifer. I am your God.”

Daily Writing #1

I’ve decided to do something new with this blog which will hopefully give me some motivation to write every day. From now on, I’ll be posting my response to a random writing prompt daily in hopes that this will help me get better at writing. If you’d like to follow along, doing your own responses to these prompts and posting them in the comments, feel free!

Today, my writing prompt is: “Write down a memorable moment you had with a relative”

 

Murky Day

The rain was coming down in a sprinkle, but it was still enough to wet the ground and cause my boots to sink into the soupy mud that covered it. Every time I lifted my foot the mixture of dirt and water would make a sucking sound which ended with a loud plop, and made me wonder why we had chosen today to go fishing. My grandpa held the poles as we walked away from the truck and crossed the park to the lakefront. I was seven years old.

When we reached the water my grandpa handed me my fishing pole. “Make sure you don’t snag the hook on anything, alright?” He said like he always did.

“Okay,” I whispered. My grandpa pulled a worm out from his tackle box and wrapped it around the hook for me, making sure that the sticky flesh of the worm concealed the menacing metal.

“Alright. You can throw it in now.” I turned toward the lake, and stared at the blackened water, but then threw my arm back and forth, casting the bobber and worm a good twenty feet out. I had done it before with my mom, and though most kids would have had trouble, I didn’t think it was all that hard.

My grandpa cast his line out too, and we stood there in silence, watching the two bobbers float up and down in the repeated ripples of the lake water. The rain pittered and pattered on my coat, making me all the more wet, but at least the coat offered some protection.

The silence was mostly my fault. My grandpa and I didn’t speak because I had always been a quiet kid. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t have even gone fishing with my grandpa if my mom wouldn’t have made me do it. I remembered being at my grandma’s house, peeking into the room, listening to my mom and her talk about how I needed to get to know my grandpa more, and so, there I was out in that murky day, staring at a lake.

When the bobber floated close enough to me, I decided that I would reel it in and cast the line out a few more times, but just as I was about to do it, I looked down into the clear shore water and saw the most massive fish I had ever seen.

I stayed quiet, like I always did, staring at the fish as it drifted in what looked like empty space, not moving an inch, and then I screamed, “Grandpa! Grandpa! Look at the fish!” From what I could tell, the fish had heard me yell, and it took off like a bullet into darker waters.

“You saw one?” My grandpa asked.

“Yeah! Yeah! It was huge! The water was clear and it was right there! It got away though!” My grandpa stared into the water for a moment, and then he laughed.

“Well, at least we know they’re in there.” We fished for another hour, and didn’t catch anything at all, so it was difficult for my grandpa to get me to leave the lake.

“We gotta come  back again,” I said as my grandpa loaded the fishing poles into the truck. “That fish is still in there.”

“Oh I’m sure we’ll be back.” In that moment, the rain faded away, and the sun shined out of the clouds.

Epic Orchestra Music

Though most of this music is made with computers, I still love the epic sound. This is a song that has inspired a story of mine, which I might write someday. Right now, I’m working on other projects, but I just thought I’d share this.

Van_Gogh_-_Starry_Night_-_Google_Art_Project

I think that another thing that inspires me to write is art. Specifically paintings. Starry night represents to me the idea of looking at things from a different perspective, which I think is amazing. I look at the image above, and then the image below and see how the perspectives change, and I hope to do that with my writing.

Since I began writing in an art museum during a convention for young writers, I feel very attached to art, and this painting specifically. I have a poem written about this, and I’m sure that I will post it soon.

 

All credit for the image below goes to: http://fineartamerica.com/featured/starry-night-alex-ruiz.html

starry-night-alex-ruiz

Two Steps From Hell

If you want music to write to, look no further than “Two Steps From Hell”. These guys make music for movie trailers, and I write to the tune of their music constantly. Here’s an example of what they do.

Visions (Poem)

Creativity_is_boundless_by_Pixelnase

The bows of violins strike strings to ring out sweeping beauty.

Drums like guns fire shimmering sparks to shoot darkness to dawn,

And the woodwinds shine light in the clouds to set a glowing shadow

Which illuminates in joyous hearts a vital sense of awe.

Instinctually the piano keys erupt elusive visions

Of worlds known true by dreaming souls, but never reached by Gods

Who fired and forged the golden brass to fight off imperfection,

And sway batons in gentle turns to keep their children strong.

 

 

A True Statement

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A Fear of Angels (Poem)

A Fear of Angels

 

When I was a child I was afraid of angels.

Night terrors of golden light,

And enveloping, feathered wings,

Would wake me up nightly,

And cause me to scream.

 

My parents were concerned,

By my fear of what is holy,

So they brought me to a Catholic church,

To face the angels,

To sleep again.

 

But the echoes in the empty church,

Only made my fears grow worse,

And my nightmares came more frequently,

The fear of angels,

Unending.

 

But one night a dream settled in,

I did not wake or scream,

And I slept for hours, in my bed.

The most peaceful sleep

I’ve ever had.

 

When I woke, I told my mother,

All about my newest dream.

“I saw God. He showed me Heaven”

“He was big. He held my hand.”

“He said I shouldn’t be afraid”

“And the angels were nice too.”

 

I don’t remember that dear dream,

But I recall the fear of angels,

And a single scene,

From my dream of Heaven

That with growth will never fade.

 

The angels all around me,

On the shores of a reflecting pool,

And standing there,

As a small child,

I hold the hand of God.

 

 

If you are wondering, this is a true story. I’ve always been rather agnostic, but this is one of those moments in my life that always makes me think God might be real.