midnight stars
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first new project in a while!
-- Within the darkest nights, lie the greatest treasures. I think you said something like that one early morning: above the city we were so willing to get out of, sitting with the driver’s seat all the way reclined in your daddy’s pickup, you were staring at the just-before-dawn sky with earnestness. That was the summer before last, the summer where befores and afters didn’t matter at all in our daily lives; back when the before was what we were living, and the after didn’t cause us to sit bolt upright in the middle of the night, panicked, disquiet seeping from the empty sides of beds. |
if tomorrow was yesterday
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after reading a bunch of haruki murakami, i suddenly thought i was an accomplished author or something similar and started writing this. if it gets enough attention i'll finish it but honestly the way i was writing it, it would have taken forever for me to finish. bxb, etc. usual warnings apply :p
-- Darkness marks the shape of a city. Light is creeping closer, but it’s not here yet. Porch lights begin to flicker off as families begin their lives like calculated clockwork, coffee makers sleepily hum, and dogs bark, waiting to be fed. This city is like a gigantic creature, its appendages pulsing with a rhythmic beat, stirring its awakening inhabitants into routine. The sun finally rises from behind the mountains on the west; couples walking breathe white air. Something is wrong in this city, terribly wrong, not normal— despite this, time moves on, forward. The season is late fall. No wind is blowing but the air carries a crisp chill. The day has nearly begun. The date has already changed; there is no going back. |
the next nagasaki
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ray bradbury mock up; writing practice don't come for me ok
-- The black mountains stood crookedly over the veldt, omnipresently watching over the brown and green sea of grass. Winds shifted this way and that, whispering secret songs to each other in tones of weary melancholy. The city is dead, they sang: Swim with us, twirl with us, play with us, twirl with us….. The sky, once full of stars, was mostly blanketed by a veil of dark, thick smog. The birth of winter had brought along with it a chilling frost, so if walked upon the grass would have crunched quietly. However nobody ever walked here anymore. The sea of grass and home at the mountain-foot had remained untouched for a very long time. |
featurettes
i understand, and wish to continue
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ngl this one is pretty cringe, i wrote it in like a half-hour period and then let it sit untouched until march... whoops. take it with a grain of salt (or a whiskey sour). it's about drinking so warning
-- Thanh downed his first whiskey sour, then sat up. “I love this bar so much,” he muttered to himself or whoever was listening. The Red Dragon was a common choice for him— colloquially referred to as the “that other bar” in Chinatown, its ambiance suggested there were magical things that could happen within the four dilapidated walls. A hazy cross between a dive bar and a discotheque, it was regularly occupied by a mixture of ne'er-do-wells and teenagers, of junkies and druggies, and people like Thanh who appreciated the diversity of it all. Where better can you drop the miscellany of anxieties and grievances from a cosmopolitan life in a too-fast world than at the front door of an establishment where friends/total strangers could watch you rant; where you came not for the camaraderie but the booze? |
the haziness of mid-afternoons
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i'm sorry i never finished this one... maybe i will someday :p
Jackdaw whimpered in his sleep sometimes. Nik thought it was interesting because on the surface Jackdaw was an incredibly blasé person; the mere thought of him possessing an emotion other than apathy made him wonder what else he didn’t know about the man across from him currently laying his forehead on the steering wheel. Parked behind a hopefully abandoned gas station somewhere in Wyoming, they’d driven for 17 hours since leaving the city. The cerulean hue of the sky was quickly growing darker, which meant it was nearly time to resume their drive. Nik patiently flicked his lighter as he waited for Jackdaw’s alarm to go off. |
the first day it snowed
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The alarm woke Snow, but it didn’t do anything to even slightly faze her girlfriend, who still snored loudly with one arm tossed over her head with the other around Snow’s waist. Snow shivered. The AC shut off and a cold draft of air came across them and she wiggled back into her safe little cocoon the two had managed to carve out of the numerous blankets and pillows in their tiny bed. Peeking open her eyes, she surveyed the amount of light coming in through the middle of their loft in order to decide if it was worth getting out of bed yet or not. She couldn’t see over Claire’s shoulders, so propping herself up on one elbow, she squinted into the new morning light beaming happily through the window.
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crying as a constructive mean
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due to some feedback i recieved, this one's off the site for some editing :p
I cry in the public gardens a lot. It's been a remarkably dry summer and the grass is parched; I like to think I’m doing my part. While on one of my regular 10:15 crying sessions (promptly to be followed by a 10:30 existential crisis) I noted something: the grass beneath me that was once a dry shade of burnt out green was now a deep dark hue of blue. Perhaps I had been crying here more than I thought. But such the opportunity arose where I remembered a recent calamity and the crying commenced again, chameleonic grass quickly shifting to a position of lesser importance. Another week went by and, being swept up in the drudgery of a life spent mostly normal, it was forgotten. |
story archive
behind the waterfall
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Behind the Waterfall is a breathtaking journey that follows a mother on her emotional conquest into the forest that neighbors her street. What she finds behind the waterfall leaves people changed, and hopefully healed.
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two slow dancers, last ones out
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What happens when you never really get a chance to say goodbye? Do feelings remain standing where they shouldn't? How much do people really change, anyway?
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talia, adun, and the apples
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Based on Ancient Norse mythology and the legends surrounding the creation of various Norse artifacts, join Talia, Adun, Loki, and Idunn in this short piece about never betting against a goddess. This was inspired by some classic Nordic tales that were recently rewritten by Neil Gaiman to become more accessable to a wider audience. Please enjoy!!
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thaumaturgy
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this one was maybe my favorite to write! follow nguyen-mei and ryu in their politial-scifi adventure in the city of new chicago. a classic hero's journey, this was written after weeks of studying common tropes and archetypes and preparing an intricate world and complex characters. please enjoy!
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perfection brings only pain
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perfection brings only pain is a work that was a result of weeks of practicing extended metaphorical writing, descriptive writing, and speculative fiction and creative world building. perfection brings only pain ties all of these together in nine pages, and provides the reader with a breathtaking journey along the way.
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