these are the beginnings to the novels i'll never write.



these are the beginnings to the novels i'll never write.
three hundred sixty five stories that begin and never end.

Blog Archive

Showing posts with label writing project. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing project. Show all posts

Friday, April 30, 2010

Muse 86: Flight

found via sadbats

I've been asked what it feels like to be in love. I asked them how they know, and they said, "It's the way you smile. The way you move when he's around, I can just tell. Your eyes light up." And I kind of understand what they mean. I feel like stars fill my body and there's no way I can fall. "Sometimes when you walk there's a skip." I think they call it walking on sunshine or floating on clouds. "And you've just been so happy lately, I hope he's good to you." And that's when my face fell. I wished they didn't say anything because... the truth is - He just made me feel this way by being there, and it would feel worse whenever he mentioned other girls.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Muse 69: In the Dark


He could barely make out the edges that framed her silhouette. If it weren't for the glowing light behind her, illuminating the shape of her, he wouldn't have seen her at all. As he approached her carefully, the steps of a hunter searching for his prey, he watched the smile grow on her face. She had been waiting, god knows how long, waiting specifically for him. And suddenly it didn't matter to her, or him, how long they had been waiting, or of the arguments that were weaved into all the shadows. All that mattered was the light behind her, and the light separated her from the dark. He loved how she softly began visible to his sight with each closing step. 

Friday, March 19, 2010

Muse 59: Birds

found via tumblr

It's always when the quiet is the loudest that I get scared the most. The fear approaches me like birds. Birds - I always hear the birds before I see them. Their wings flap like sheets of paper whipping against each other, and the noise grows louder, freakishly louder, until I'm pretty convinced that the birds are here to eat me. They're vultures in my mind. They're chasing me in vicious circles - cycles - until I drop down dead. "I don't want to go," my voice is mildly pathetic and I fold my hands over my face. I'm scared of the birds. I hear them before I can see them. They warn me I'm already dead.