Forum Thread

“𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔”

𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊’𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎! 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚝𝚜, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒-𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎. 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.



my inspo and people you should definitely check out for their amazing skill:
Daiko’s stories | Immortes | A Wolf’s Library

[𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚]

[]current status: complete
[]progress report: 100%
[]proposed deadline: achieved!
[]proposed word count: —
[]type: poem (not really)

weak hacking coughs, a bluish nightgown
and a frail arm clutches the fresh bouquet
the other arm, occupied.
a limp figure in hand
the glass vase shatters
the shards soar above her head
but still the hand clutches a thorny rose
the thorns pierce her pale snowy skin
deep red a contrast to her fair skin tone
the curtains close, the stage light dims
and lo, with a cry, she opens her mouth
“this is my swan song”
the last words she spoke
her final breath
as all the feathers turn black
tattered and torn like that a rodent had gnawed
with thorny white roses that dripped a dee p blood red
the puppet strings break
as strong and fragile as a spider web
yet….not enough
and the performer takes her final bow
hear the angels sing
their sweet soft lullaby
and the little babe, in a deep sleep.
the grubby pens, the crayons
oh those little stubs
the coloring books, seemingly untouched
yet falling apart, and rotting rather fast
everything wasting away at its touch
the soft padded shoes
the matching white dress
the babe lets out not a single sound
like a calm lily field
the night birds chirp
and the flowers sway gently in the breeze
Finally, finally,
mother and daughter reunite at last

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[𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚]

[]current status: complete
[]progress report: 100%
[]proposed deadline: achieved!
[]proposed word count: —
[]type: poem (not really)

her body was warm, shimmering skin aglow
with dark brown hair and eyes black as coal
her dainty hands clasped around that bear
as she held my gaze with her piercing stare
i crooned softly as she rose from her bed
“come on sweetheart, time to play”
and then we went together
to the stables near the creek
there she picked out a horse so sweet
I helped her get on, and we rode for miles
across the starry sky that had no bounds
and when we were done
we lay to rest
amongst the lily fields to catch our breath
then the weeping willow extended her loving arms
welcome, little one, to the world of stars

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[𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭]

[]current status: incomplete
[]progress report: 0%
[]proposed deadline: sometime in 2023…
[]proposed word count: 500 words
[]type: short story
[]summary: in which a girl finds herself wandering the museum late at night. but she soon notices something is rather off…

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