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posted by para-scence
I laid on my comfy bed, with my eyes closed, listening to music. This was my escape. This is what kept me in this world. Music. Without it, life just wouldn't be fair. The awesome гитара solo, sick bass, kick-ass drums, and meaningful lyrics soothe me. I took a deep breath, ready to lose myself, when there was a knock on the door.

"What?" I called over the music. It opened; it was my twin sister, Asteria. The only thing identical about us is our eyes, which are ice blue. Her pale blond hair reflected the light pouring in from the hallway, while my room was dimly lit. She was all dressed up, wearing a white dress, with pale blue lacing. I hated to admit it, but she looked beauiful.

"You need to get dressed," she said, annoyed. "The banquet's in a half hour."

"Ok, fine," I sighed. She rolled her eyes and left, closing the door behind her. She's such a pain. I went to my closet, and grimaced at what my mother had picked out for me to wear tonight.

It's pink.

I ignored her request, and grabbed a dress I had bought myself, with father's money of course. The dress was a black, which had a purple-ish tint to it in the light. It had a red corset with it. I put that on, and put my jet black hair in a long ponytail. I already had on my dark eyeliner, but touched it up a bit. I smiled at myself in my full body mirror. I turned off my CD player, and skipped downstairs.

All around, servants were getting ready for the party. Father was hosting another banquet, probably to Реклама another business he was creating. Franklin, one of our servants, smiled at me as I came down the stairs.

"Cosette, Ты look beautiful," he said. I grinned and hugged him. He's my favorite.

"Thanks--" he raised an eyebrow at me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Thank you," I corrected myself. "You look stunning yourself." He smiled and gestured to the kitchen, where my parents were probably getting ready as well. I went to the kitchen, where my parents were present, as well as my siblings, Asteria, Tzipora, Anastasia, and Demetri.

My sisters' eyes widened at me, and soon became worried. They looked anxiously at Mother, who's back was still turned to me. Demetri sighed, and shook his head.

"Cosette, I don't believe that's what your mother laid out for Ты to wear," Father said. His eyes scanned over me, and then sighed and shook his head like Demetri had. Mother turned, and nearly did a double take.

"Cosette, honestly," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Why must Ты wear such ridiculous clothing? That looks hideous!" My smiled slowly turned into a frown. Once again, she shoved a нож through my heart. "Go change!" she ordered.

I headed upstairs, and Franklin gave me a sympathetic look. I sighed and shook my head at him. I was halfway up the stairs, when he quietly called my name.

"Cosette! No time to change; the guests are already here. Why don't Ты get the door," he smiled misheviously. I paused for a moment, taking in his words. He winked. I grinned and ran downstairs, mouthing "thank you" as I moved past him to get the door.

"Good evening," I said, as if I was Чтение off a cue card. I let in a couple that I had no idea who they were. They nodded graciously, and handed Franklin their coats and purse. They went into the kitchen, and were greeted by the rest of my family. Franklin handed me the coats and purse, and we switched so he could man the door.

I hung the coats and кошелек on the пальто rack, when Franklin called. еще guests, еще coats. I went back and forth for about a half hour, helping Franklin with the guests. Honestly, I don't know why these people were wearing coats; it's spring.

Then as I was putting еще coats away, Анастасия appeared.

"Cosette, Mother and Father are looking for you. Ты need to introduce yourselves to the guests," she сказал(-а) urgently. I nodded and went over to her, and she sighed. "Didn't they tell Ты to change?"

"I was helping Franklin," I shrugged. She looked at me nervously, then rolled her eyes and descended down the stairs. I followed behind. Mother and Father were in the living room, introducing guests to Demetri and Asteria. I could hear them talking about them lovingly. They looked over to me, and I could tell they were fighting to keep up their smiles.

"Ah, there's the last of them. This is our daughter, Cosette," Mother said, nearly through her teeth. I moved gracefully to her side, and she put her hand on my shoulder. "She's Asteria's twin; and our youngest daughter." The man and woman they were talking to looked at me, confused and slightly surprised. I wasn't though. I don't look much like my family, like I said, except for the eyes. My whole family has pale blond hair, and slightly tanned skin. I have black hair, and my skin refuses to absorb sunlight или something.

"What are your interests?" the woman asked me.

"Music," I shrugged.

"Ah, Beethoven and Mozart?" she smiled. I shook my head.

"Avenged Sevenfold and Bullet For My Valentine," I сказал(-а) confidently. They stared at me for a long while, then restarted an old conversation with my parents. I shrugged and guessed I was free to go. I slipped out from under my mother's hand. I sat on the stairs, and started people watching. This is a fun thing to do whenever Father has a party. I can easily tell who's pretending или lying. I held my chin in one hand, and was watching a man talk to another man, with his arm around a woman. His touch seemed distant; reserved. He didn't really Любовь her. Her body seemed rigid. She didn't Любовь him back.

"What's going on?" Franklin asked, taking a сиденье, место, сиденья Далее to me. I told him about my observations of the couple. He nodded. "Yes, I heard they are in marriage counseling..." Музыка started playing softly in the speakers placed throughout the first floor of the house. Couples started dancing. I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling laughter. Most of them looked ridiculous. Franklin held out his hand. "Care to dance?" I giggled, and put my hand in his.

Neither Franklin или I can dance; we just imitated the others who couldn't as well. I laughed the whole time, and we almost fell over twice.

"Ahem," someone said. We stopped. It was a young man, maybe a год older than me. "May I steal this young lady for a dance?" Franklin nodded, and handed me off. I sighed. Fun's over. The boy had neatly cut brown hair, and green eyes. "My I ask your name?"

"Cosette Hayner," I said. "Any Ты are...?" I asked, trying to sound the least bit interested.

"I'm Harland Berkley," he said. "My father is the vice-president of your father's technology company."

"Wonderful," I said. I tried not to sigh, или Переместить my eyes away from his, или anything my family who consider "rude" или "un-lady like." Harland went on to discuss something about what his father does, but I heard nothing. He was so boring. I held my breath when I felt a yawn coming.

Then as we were dancing, Harland did something... un-gentleman like to say the least. His hands moved down my back, and touched my somewhere I'd rather not be touched. I took my hands off his shoulders, and kicked his shin. Hard. He gasped, and held his foot in his hand, hopping on one foot for a while like they do in movies.

"Cosette!" Father exclaimed. "What are Ты doing?!"He came up behind me, astonished. I'm guessing all he saw was me kicking Harland.

"He--"

"You apologize this instant!" he shrieked.

"But--"

"Don't back talk to me! I ordered Ты to do something!" People were starting to stare. By now, Harland was able to stand up straight. He stood there waiting, with an amused look on his face. I curtsied slightly like I was taught, and cocked my head slightly.

"My apologies," I сказал(-а) sarcastically. Harland nodded once, and then turned and left.

"Young lady, go to your room for the rest of the night. I don't want to see Ты until morning," Father said.

"Fa--"

"Cosette. Enough. You've been an embarrassment enough already." The room got painfully quiet. Everyone was sure to have heard that. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my nose began to sting. I quickly went upstairs, slamming my door behind me. I cried only for a little bit, then got into my sweatpants and tshirt. I washed off the makeup in my bathroom, and let my hair down.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn't like them.

I got in bed, and turned on my CD player again from where I left off. It went to "Weight Of The World," by Evanescence. I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself again.

I'm the odd one, strange one, freak, monstrosity, weirdo, malformation, grotesque one... I was different. All these things my parents have called me, but they all were referring to one thing. I was different. Being different isn't bad. I'm just unique. I have my own way of seeing things. I like different things, have different interest... Different is not bad.

Is it?
posted by vampiress015
I presuming we all joined this spot 'cos we Любовь to write, right? If so then Ты all know what I'm talking about when I say that we all Любовь our main characters and sometimes want to make them the best people in the world.

B-O-R-I-N-G

Yes, we want to make our main character gets the best out of the story, since it's their story. But if they're the best people in the world it doesn't really make them believable and then the reader just doesn't care about them (which is hard to understand cos we as the writer Любовь em, but unfortunantley it's true)

So here is my step-by-step guide to make sure that...
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posted by Sweet_Pants
Just a poem. I hope it isn't much of a bother to rate.

I dream of all things

Uncertain of dark deeds and pasts

Within these thoughts as dark as sea

When once those wings of black

Hung over all

Shadowing but of the wretched white

That blinds me of all beauty.

I dream of all things

From happiness to highs

Let down these pills

или I’m gone, retreat inside my mind

Where none but the darkest thoughts

Swallowing twilight

I dream of all things

From the stories told by hidden scars

Unable to Показать themselves

Under this intense scrutiny

That makes up this world’s attire

To the times that I could be happy

Without a drug to create

The much-needed illusion...


I dream of all things
No matter of their contents
Because, well,
Nightmares are still dreams.
posted by mrs-mindfreak
I decided to do a story where I put my iPod on shuffle and start writing. Lucky for me, all the songs were basically sad или angry music. So this is what I came up with :)

The rain pattered on the windows drowsily, drowning out Alana’s choking sobs. She sat in her Избранное wooden rocker, and buried her face in her hands miserably. Her black hair clung to her sweaty face. Her clammy palms were wet from tears. She never wanted to Переместить from that spot again. Although she was filled with irrevocable remorse, she felt comfortable there. No one in the house, rain falling softly outside, and just...
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‘You shouldn't have shot the dog.’ That single thought reverberated inside my head, knocking from side to side, smashing at the sides of my skull until I had to put my hands to my temples in a futile attempt to stop the pain. The man sitting Далее to me took a swig of his whiskey, the glass bottle knocking against his yellowed and rotten teeth. His other hand held onto the steering wheel, maneuvering the car down the winding and deserted stretch of highway. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, willing my head to stop pounding. From the radio, the soft strains...
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 The Writer Behind the Words
The Writer Behind the Words
Luck has little to do with link. A long lasting Письмо career doesn’t just happen. A writer can burst onto the scene and quickly disappear. Another can have a series of hits then write a bunch of flops and never be heard from again. The difference between a long lasting career and one that burns out is strategy. Here are seven rules to help Ты find the right strategy for Ты and get Ты started on your journey to long lasting success.

Learn the power of focus. For most of us, we have еще than enough to do on a daily basis. And when it comes to any Письмо project the Список can grow exponentially-...
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The fragrance of scotch pine and blue ель is pungent in the air, amplified by the heat of late June. или so Ты think it is June. This place feels oddly void of time. Ты open your eyes to see a sun hazed over by stratus clouds. From all angles Ты spy familiar wooden structures.
You are back.

You sit up with your legs tucked under your bottom and bask in the estival air and all of the scents that waft within it. Ты furrow your brows, thinking that it is not as clean as before. Even so, the place hums with earthy energy. A stronger gust of wind picks up the hem of your рубашка and flutters...
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posted by Epismatic
The Man With No Eyes Collection (3): Mask




When the curtain rises, all is forgiven.

I’ll brush it all off with a movie-star smile,

A genuine laugh, but my eyes must be hidden,

The truth they contain is considered too vile.

My voice is a song that will play through your ears,

And invite Ты to dance to the sound of my tune,

I take a bow, deeply, and drink in your cheers,

I’ll always remain here,

You’ll come see me soon.

A new день is dawning,

“Quick, put on your mask!”

And hurry outside, meet the crowd.

“Where’ve Ты been?”

With fanciful Ответы to all that Ты ask,

I’ll always wait here for...
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posted by WritingBookWorm
So, one of my New’s Years Resolutions this год it to write more. So, I decided to make this:

The goal is to write something every day.

Starting on the 31st of January, every день there is a vague word, idea, object, question, statement или anything. Ты can take it anyway Ты want.

Then each день Ты should write what it tells Ты too или something inspired by it. Whether it be a poem, a small scene, a character description, journal entry, short story или even just one really well crafted sentence.

Even if the prompt confuses you, или Ты have no ideas just write something! It’s a great exercise...
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This guide was inspired by a Вопрос recently Опубликовано by link on this spot. The user was looking for ways to put a twist on fairytales. I began to write an answer, but my answer soon developed into an article. So here it is.

Note that these aren't specifically for fairytales; they can be used on any old, well-known stories. After listing some ideas on how Ты can put a twist on such stories, I'll give a few examples of Фильмы that have done used one или еще of these ideas.

1. Swap the genders of the traditional characters.
Do any of the characters behave especially "typical" for their gender?...
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posted by floraisbest1
Ms. Farogonda asked for the winx to come down to her office. when the winx reached ms. farogonda's office she told them that diana wants to speak wth one of you. she didnt tell me who but she told me to pick two extras. ms. farogonda can i go, bloom asked her. flora will be going along with musa and aisha ms farogonda told them. hmph bloom pouted, can we at least go with them bloom сказал(-а) quikly. fine all of Ты girls can go and im bringing the specialist. ok stella сказал(-а) in a sing song voice. lets go сказал(-а) the winx. they met the RF boys outside and went in the owl. winx: WINX BELIEVIX
AT THE амазонка
flora: let's get going
aisha: see ya winx
bloom: meet back here in an час k
ok bloom musa said
( diana appears in front of them)
GUARDS take them away
what??!
(to be continued)
posted by LunaNotLoony
Anna flicked the T.V from channel to channel, bored: there was nothing worth watching. Sighing, she left the news on and flopped back on the sofa, not really intending to listen.
'The war in Iraq-.'
'Oh no, Ты don't,' Anna muttered, grabbing the remote. Her Dad had joined the army after her Mum had died of an overdose. Anna didn't really blame him, she'd have got out of the house as fast as possible too if she was an adult. The whole house was contaminated with the memories of Mum, of her laugh, of her accident... suicide... whatever it was. Even so, Anna missed Dad like it was painful. She'd...
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posted by Ichigo127
An Amuto one-shot
hope Ты enjoy!

‘You know, Amu…,’ he was sitting there again, on the ledge of the window, staring wistfully outside. ‘All of them think you’re gone. But I know better. Ты are alive, I know it. Somewhere out there, you’re thinking about me too, aren’t you?’
He was talking again, talking to the moon. ‘You’ll never admit it but Ты have already fallen for me,’ he smirked at the moon. No, not the moon. It was Amu’s blushing face that he saw and it was her voice that he heard, ‘Shut up!’ he didn’t know it was the echo of his memories because he thought...
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A shadowy figure silently brushed the silken curtains aside as she slipped through the open window and stepped into the dark chamber. Passing a small таблица and a bed, the лиса, фокс quickly headed towards a cabinet that stood against the far wall.
Beaded necklaces hung above a oval mirror that was set in the center. Her eyes rested on a miniature strongbox half hidden behind the mirror.
Paying no heed to the deafening clatter coming from the oblivious guest downstairs, she skillfully picked the tiny lock and raised the lid. It was hard to tell what was what in the darkness, so she emptied it into...
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posted by Ichigo127
Yo! this is the first poem i wrote with a sane mind xD do tell me if Ты like it =)

Tears,
a combination of helplessness and anger,
a combination of joy and gratitude.
what different meanings it holds!
sometimes of love,
sometimes of hate.
with what different feelings we cry!
but those tears are the same.
they dwell inside the eye,
ready to attack,
the peace of our heart.
to flood the face,
with undoubted Любовь and care,
with undoubted anger and hate,
with undoubted pain and despair.
pain? yes, and despair too!
the breakdown of our heart,
the dawn of the truth,
leading to flood the face,
with our sentiments undoubted.
Act like you're not
okay when Ты are and
that Ты are when you're
not. Run barefoot in
the snow. Stand out
in the rain for an hour
and think about anything
and everything Ты can.

Fall in Любовь with
riddles and things that
aren't real and the
way some stars
shine. Cry when
you realize that life is
just one big sham and write
one hundred cliché poems
about it, and then write one
that Ты actually mean.

Use profanity. Be the
one fucking introvert
in a room full of
extroverts and scream
shit just for the fun of
it. глотать, ласточка every goddamn
metaphor Ты ever dreamed
of and write them down
with your own blood.

Eulogize...
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Hi Everyone!
I've been working on a book for a while now. Im not gona post all of it at the same time, but I Will post the Prologue. Please tell me what Ты think! I invite constructive criticism to make it better! THX!


Prologue
    “Tanya! I don’t understand what’s so different about this kid! He’s done nothing to make me see him as special!” Tanya glowered at her obnoxious boyfriend. “Don’t Ты see?” She сказал(-а) icily, “He isn’t like us!” Virgil and Tanya looked at there new child. He wiggled around in his детская кроватка and giggled happily. The child crabbed...
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What do Ты want from me?
A tortured body?
A broken soul?

What do Ты expect to happen?
As Ты kick me down
As Ты rip me apart

Tell Me!!!!!!!!!!

What do Ты want to happen?
As I close my eyes
And take my last breath

I сказал(-а) I would stay
Till I took my last moment
But now I'm leaving
A victim no more

I lived with your love
The Любовь Ты showed with your fist
I died because of that love
Your Любовь was only Hate

Now someone else will take my place
Will live with your kind of love
Now someone else will receive your lies
Will know your treachery

What did I expect?
That you'd change?
That you'd learn to love?

What did I ever...
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One afternoon, Sapphire sat in her room, on her bed, quietly Мечты with her headphones in. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was in her own magical world.
Sapphire entered the sparkling cave in the middle of the forest. Her blue dress was tattered, and her misty розовый fairy wings were damp from the moist, warm air. But she was feeling fine.
Sapphire took a few steps into the sparkling cave. It was made entirely of ice and crystal. Trickling water could be heard as miniature streams fell continuously from the ceiling. Icy stalagmites stood firmly in the cold crystal floor. Icicles hung from...
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posted by Attirox2
The air was still as if it were holding its breathe waiting for me as I approached the ledge. I could feel myself pushing back tears as I clutched the fragile locket in my hands; I traced its dainty designs with my finger. "So mom and dad are getting the divorce after all. I guess Ты were right E. I don't know why I ever doubted Ты about that one I mean it was obvious! I guess I tried to block it out like what happened......" I muttered looking up at the milky white moon. It seemed to look down at me with sympathetic beams of light. My hands gripped the marble ledge tighter. "Eliza it's been...
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It’s the color of you
Ты always wore it
It’s the color we shared
As we hid from them

With it we showed our true selves,
Though no one cared
Our оранжевый book bags
Were our shields from some of the pain

We protected each other
But it wasn’t enough
We were like two оранжевый crayons
When everyone else was green

Then Ты left me alone,
All I had was our color orange
As they hit me
I took peace in knowing
Ты were in the оранжевый field in the sky
Ты always сказал(-а) was there.

The оранжевый of the sun set
Is your smile
Even though Ты left too soon

Orange…

Now it’s my color
My way of remembering you
Now I am the lone оранжевый in the rainbow
Without Ты here

I protect my own
Though I wish Ты were here

Now оранжевый is my color
A color for your bravery
A color for my survival

оранжевый will forever be our color
Even though death took Ты away

Forever оранжевый for you,
Sweet Cassidy.