“You Own everything that Happened To You. Tell Your Stories … ” - Anne Lamott

Shattered Reflection

This was the me who didn’t make it. Not just the one who hadn’t accomplished her dreams, or the one who had given up on what she’d wanted in life. That may or may not have been true, but that wasn’t the first thought to come to mind.

Her neck was bruised, and maybe it was just me, but they looked very ominous. Perhaps it was just me, considering I was the one with an imagination that was as vivid as it was limited by what I already knew. Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, making shapes recognizable only because it was something I knew and something I could identify. Maybe it was fear, feeding an apprehension deep inside my stomach that grew the more I looked at her.

 Her face had some shallow but long scratches. Her arms looked an ugly mixture of purple and yellow, gashes appearing every few inches or so. They also seemed to have the same kind of marks that her neck did. Handprints. Marks of a struggle.

It took me a long while, and when I finally looked back up at her, I saw my own dark brown eyes staring back at me with an icy numbness. “Did I die?”

Keep reading

I Promise I’m Not a Murderer: The Story of a Researching Writer

AlumniGenisis

This was a project I was super proud of several years ago, mainly because I felt like I was really branching out doing anything science based when that had always been my worst subject. I stopped writing it because, well, science was always my worst subject and even with this little beginning I was being more narrative as opposed to science oriented so I never felt I could do it much justice if I continued. But, even still, I’m pretty fond of my first attempt. 

Keep reading

Immortal Print

A light for those who need it in times of darkness.

I got my major fandoms in here holding a beacon of light for anyone who needs it in times of sadness and despair  I wish I had a chance to fit a few more fandoms in.

The Writer's Creed

This is my pen. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My pen is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

My pen, without me, is useless. Without my pen, I am useless. I must write with my pen the truth. I must write the words and thoughts that are bursting from my mind and soul. I must write them before they kill me. I will…

The Archer’s 1000 Picspam —> #19: Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom

The Goddesses of Hyrule

What Never Made it to Print (Part One)

They always knew they’d end up together at the end of the line, they just hadn’t imagined it would be in this way. In hindsight, maybe they should have had some clue as to what that kooky old fortune teller meant when she said, ‘Together forever, and not a day more’.

Kyle had brushed it off as a cop out, saying the old woman had no way of knowing anything else about them-they really hadn’t given her anything to work with during their introduction and had yet to do anything more than give very short responses to inquiries she used to make her so called deductions- so she had gone with the usual thing that psychics always said. That there was someone out there that they would be with until their dying day, someone who they seemed to care about more than anyone else in their lives. He would admit that she had a unique sense of style, claiming that the two of them would be joined at the hip until the inevitable as opposed to their current girlfriends, but that was about all he was impressed by. Considering that it was nothing he didn’t already know, she was lucky to get that small bit of admiration out of him.

Shawn just didn’t see the point of putting any merit to the predictions. They might have gotten him excited when he was five, and Kyle’s mom had threatened to move hundreds of miles away if the boy’s didn’t eat their vegetables, but that was twenty years ago and the white lie was nowhere near palpable enough. Kyle was not going anywhere, and Shawn was not planning on letting any argument split up the only long lasting ‘relationship’ he had ever had in his life. If the fates had not seen fit to separate the two of them by now, it just wasn’t going to happen. So he was not to going to be inexplicably terrified of the thought of losing his best friend. While he believed that anything could happen at any given second, he also believed in facts and statistical data. The area they both lived in, the crowd they both ran with, the backgrounds they both came from, and the jobs they both had, were not conducive to a tragic outcome. They were both safe in the lives they created for themselves and as long as they were careful, it was always going to be that way.

So how they ended up here, out of breath and clutching to each other as if there was nothing left while literally staring down their demise, was pretty much a shock to both of them. Looking back on things now, it really shouldn’t have been.

(Sometimes I begin writing something, and while I decide at the end of my writing time that I like what I have so far, I never quite find a place to put it. So I put it on a shelf for later and occasionally look at it again to see if something comes to me. This is one of those times, and I still have no clue.) 

Robert Frost