Sorry everyone, I thought it was about time I put everything about me here, in this thread. By that I mean everything i've written and ever will write. I've recently realised that the only creative talent I have is being an okay writer. I would definately not say I'm very good, but I enjoy it and seem to have a knack for it.
So i'll post anything i've done here, be it written stories, poems, lyrics, doodles, etc.
First few works'll be posted in a sec. I'd love to hear your feedback, and if you'll would kindly not post your own works in here, thanks?
so, this is what, Like, your think tank? or just a memo thread, or what?
whoa... the longer I stay here, the more inspiration courses through my body... yes... yes! INSPIRATION ACHIEVED!
Don't ask how I got it from you when i post it, Jezz, 'cause honestly, it has nothing to do with what I read here, but I know the next thing I'm going to write!
so, this is what, Like, your think tank? or just a memo thread, or what?
Its a thread for everything about me. Everything i've written and everything thats been made for me (Like Cen's drawings) It's not a think tank. That's Poison's thread :P
Next to come: -The first part of my new story -The poem Nicho is writing for me
ah! I knew i had heard that term somewhere before. I half thought I had made it up on the spot. it was from pois0n. euh... sorry pois0n. but, uh, yeah. keep up the good work. I'll just be kickboxing over here.
Mweh... It's not getting enough traffic... In fact, the last post was a day ago by me... Oh well, I be an eternal optimist, so I'll deal with it. [/offtopic]
Hey jezz! I have an idea! Want to combine my thread with yours? Its fine with me if you say no.
Erp sorry, no. How would that work? Call me selfish, but all my work goes here. I hope you write many more stories for your thread!
Back ontopic: *Not sure when Nicho's poem will be done. Just know that it will be spectacular. *I have a scary-ish story to post later. Its called "It"
I re-read it and it doesn't seem as scary as when I wrote it at Christmas =/ Kay, this short story thingy is kinda rubbish. But its not bad
~IT~
Awake. No. Not Awake. Deeply Asleep. But so, so alive. Real. It has to be real. Itâs like nothing that can be dreamt of. Imagined. Staring. No, not staring. It canât stare. Just existing. Unexplainable. Squatting there. Waiting? Mocking. Itâs just a presence of darkness. A shroud of frightful hatred. The worst thing is, I can see it, yet I donât know what it looks like. I know its there, but I donât know why. And I know its going to do something. I just donât know what. If I look at it I am terrified that it will move. But if I look away I donât know what it will do. It could creep up to me. Slide towards me. Itâs quivering flesh. NO I donât know what itâs made of. Itâs as shiny as a snake and looks both a solid and a liquid. Some nights itâs opposite me. Shivering in the middle of the floor. Watching me with no eyes. Acknowledging me. Some nights itâs tucked away under the desk in the corner. I can see its bulk in the moonlight. Other bad nights itâs at the end of my bed. Still watching. I can feel the cold energy through the blankets. It soaks me right through. I darenât move. I just canât escape. Every night I lay awake until early morning. Until I can barely stand it. Willing myself not to go under. But every night I do. As if itâs silently dragging me under so it can keep watch. One terrible night. I sleep too late. I fight it. Stay awake. It gets light outside. Then I am pulled under. I feel different. Cold. Icy cold. Yet unfeeling. No emotion. I then realize I am it. I can feel a warm presence and I know itâs the real me sleeping. I feel sad. My own emotions feel sad for it. Unseeing. Unfeeling. Just existing. The next night I sleep quicker. Sitting up. Knowing the more I attempt to escape, the less I am able to get away. I canât fall asleep because I already am. I need to take action. Do something about it. I stare defiantly at it. Pull off the bed covers. And stand up.
Aw no! I forgot to do it in Notepad. To make it easier to read.. here. (Extremely sorry for the DP)
~IT~ Awake. No. Not Awake. Deeply Asleep. But so, so alive. Real. It has to be real. It's like nothing that can be dreamt of. Imagined. Staring. No, not staring. It can't stare. Just existing. Unexplainable. Squatting there. Waiting? Mocking. It's just a presence of darkness. A shroud of frightful hatred. The worst thing is, I can see it, yet I don't know what it looks like. I know its there, but I don't know why. And I know its going to do something. I just don't know what. If I look at it I am terrified that it will move. But if I look away I don't know what it will do. It could creep up to me. Slide towards me. It's quivering flesh. NO I don't know what it's made of. It's as shiny as a snake and looks both a solid and a liquid. Some nights it's opposite me. Shivering in the middle of the floor. Watching me with no eyes. Acknowledging me. Some nights it's tucked away under the desk in the corner. I can see its bulk in the moonlight. Other bad nights it's at the end of my bed. Still watching. I can feel the cold energy through the blankets. It soaks me right through. I daren't move. I just can't escape. Every night I lay awake until early morning. Until I can barely stand it. Willing myself not to go under. But every night I do. As if it's silently dragging me under so it can keep watch. One terrible night. I sleep too late. I fight it. Stay awake. It gets light outside. Then I am pulled under. I feel different. Cold. Icy cold. Yet unfeeling. No emotion. I then realize I am it. I can feel a warm presence and I know it's the real me sleeping. I feel sad. My own emotions feel sad for it. Unseeing. Unfeeling. Just existing. The next night I sleep quicker. Sitting up. Knowing the more I attempt to escape, the less I am able to get away. I can't fall asleep because I already am. I need to take action. Do something about it. I stare defiantly at it. Pull off the bed covers. And stand up.
Next to come: *Teh poem by Nichodemus *A long poem thing I wrote 2 years ago
