CraftyWings93

I see upon a hill, the setting sun, fleeing from the night... The moon coming above that horizon for the kill, to rise and banish to darkness all light. Though time brushes over creation, I live on, a slave to immortality. Though I was the choser of my own damnation, Twas humanity that was the cause of my brutality. Now the world around me decays, unlike my flesh and mind... Time has left my future in a haze, and the changing world has been unkind. I see upon a hill, but another slope downward, where the pointless  journey continues on... unto to no end is my existence forever moving forward Nostalgia is dead, as my past is for

It's finally over. "It's dead!" they cried while any semblance of breath left their stillbirthed lungs they unearthed the past and buried the memories, they dug up the Earth and buried the bodies "It's dead!" they cried while the rain fell and washed away any evidence of its rebirth It's finally over.

10:06pm 76 degrees partly cloudy people are dying they always are I can stand outside in southern suburbitude hearing nothing but cycling on and off and on of central air units reveling in the remains of a cooled down sunny day but it's so real now runningheadlineswebsitesradionewsyoutubereddit it is everywhere and, so they say, that it is everywhere "'We are slowly descending into chaos' Miami doctor says" "Emergency field hospital set up in Central Park" and so we stay at home wife child and I working at home learning at home spring cleaning the home weeding and watering at home playing at home living at home I research seve

1 - Gold eyes, freckled face A free spirit who won't bow And dances like leaves 2 - The shepherd's boy calls And furry ears twitch in response They're ready to serve 3 - 'In hindsight,' he thought 'Perhaps hitting on that witch Wasn't quite so smart' 4 - His voice will make mad All but the purest of souls And then there's his gaze... 8 - They welcomed her in Those children of the wild And showed her kindness 9 - Tranquil her abode Water reflecting her soul Her past took its toll --- 1 & 2 - Magic, like money Merely enhances the spark Of our true selves 4 - He had seen something Flitting between the dark trees Which began to si

They fight for blood, They fight for glory, Upon fields of mud, And inside arenas that are gory, Built for battle they fight, Until their last breath, As the crowd savors, The pungent aroma of death, If you think that is cruel, Then the cruel world, Itself is to be blamed, But I have one question, Are you not entertained?   ----Ode to the Gladiator

8 Tips for Writing Horror Stories Anybody Can Write a Novel   Chapter 2 “Genres” – Section 6 “Horror" With Links to Supplementary Material PLEASE NOTE THAT WHILE THIS PAGE WILL REMAIN ACTIVE FOR PURPOSES OF EDUCATION AND RECORDS, IT IS OUTDATED. CLICK HERE TO ACCESS THE NEWEST VERSION. The next on our list of genres to talk about is the Horror genre. I talked a bit about this on my chapter on creating a Monster; but horror does not necessarily require a monster, just like monsters do not necessarily need to be strictly within the horror genre. So I highly recommend checking out that chapter as the second half of t

We skip through time with a hurried pace Determination etched upon our face Forgetting that of which we need An echoed voice we seldom heed Stop and take the time to see The Majesty of life for You and Me All ring so true in what we say To stop and help then kneel and pray Of hearts and souls to be laid bare From nurturing friendships filled with care We lose the sight of which is meant To fill our minds with messages sent When stop is not go,  and to walk is not run Beauty is seen in the glow of each setting sun So laugh and to cry, and a simple touch To those in need is felt so much Of warmth and cold and wet and d

"The sky is gray, and so are the cities and the streets. These people are gray as well, and all they see and all they are is gray, gray, gray." He muttered this and more to himself while picking his fingernails, but I was listening on the curb with him. Listening to the tectonic engine rumbles; and the heat shimmering off the six-lane road like melted glass. He spoke my language but that didn't make it any easier to understand. When I lifted my head from the sidewalk, there were young couples painting the town red. There were vandal artists in rainbow packs marking in blue and yellow as an alcoholic throws back her hair