A Bit Of Everything discussion

Here you can post stories, poetry, or anything you have created, for everyone to see, and we'll give you feedback! :D

This is a poem I wrote while I was in a mood. I tend to write peotry when im depressed, music when im hurt or fantasizing, and novels when im happy or neutral. Anyways...

Not Enough
By me

Not enough dark
To hide the smoke.
Not enough light
To hide the fire.

Not enough hurt
To hide the hate.
Not enough left
To hide the break.


And this one was a school assignment. It's a parody of peas poridge hot.

Mama's Chili
By me

Mama's chili hot
Mama's chili cold
Mama's chili in the pot nine days old.

No one likes it hot
No one likes it cold
No one likes it in the pot nine days old.

They are wonderful Cici!

I write depressing poems too.
Here is one of them:

To End This Pain
By Me

What's the use of trying
To be a friend at all?
Most people will ignore the nice
Push hard until you fall

To be alone, neglected
Like a walking parasite
Everything I do and say
Nothing seems to be right

The evil darkness over me
Will soon come to an end
The haunting laugh of all the folks
That I tried to befriend

I cry myself to sleep at night
Just wishing it would stop
Maybe tomorrow it will cease
Then again, maybe not

I felt everyone had left me
It made me want to die
Cause I can only take so much
That makes me want to cry

I can’t take this any more
So I end this pain today
Of the burden I carry inside
I make it all go away

I give in to pleasure
That is twisted and dark
This pain that's within
Will soon leave its mark

The mark that it leaves
Will be what it does crave
The mark on my tombstone
As I lay in my grave

I hold no more fear
No pain and no hate
I lay still in victory
With death as my mate

At last I am free from this pain
It brings me great relief
But now I am the one to blame
For my family’s endless grief

How could I be so selfish?
Leaving this world in pain
Hurting the people who loved me
It brings me great shame

How I wish I could go back
And undo the things I did
I never knew that my actions
Would hurt those I was amid

Sometimes the easiest way
Of ending someone’s agony
Is not wisest of choices
For it will only end in tragedy

And:
Memories Of You
Also by Me

Fire and blood, the smell of smoke
The pain covers me like a cloak
The twisted metal of a car
My heart bears the only scar

My screams echo into the night
Can’t get the images from my sight
Thrashing and turning with tortured pain
The darkness slowly turns me insane

∼•∼

Haunted each night with the memories of you
Wishing it wasn’t but knowing it’s true
Since that terrible tragic day
My world has turned so ever grey

The memories of you, so vivid and clear
It’s easy to forget that you’re no longer here
Your absence, like a hole in my heart
Leaves me suffering in the dark

Thats sad.

Yeah, I was struggling through depression 'cause I was bullied quite badly. Let's just say, I was starting to question living life. :C

The Shadow
By me

I walk and am seen
But never noticed.
Stepped on, crushed
Without care or thought.

I cry and hurt
But am left.
I am near invisible
But everyone knows im there.

But do they care?
No, for I am a shadow.
A shadow of pains
A shadow of grief.

Can it die?
Without the death of me?
Or are the one?
One and the same?

I must go on
But must I go on with this?
Pain and hurt and grief.
For I am a shadow.

Shadow of a girl.
A girl who once was.
Overpowered by pain.
Pain, grief, and misery.

Wow. That was a sad and powerful poem.

Here's my writing.

http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/7...

Yeah, I liked that story of yours Veronica. :D

The Darkness in my Head
by me

This darkness that follows me
Plagues me
Drowns me

Is it really there?
Following me?
Drowning me?

Or is it just in my head?
Controlling me
Breaking me

If it's in my head
Is it fake?
Or still real?

If I fall down
Will someone catch me?
Save me?

Or will they leave me?
To be consumed
Consumed by my darkness.

If I leave
Will it follow?
Or anyone else?

Where should i go?
Down, down, down.
It is darker as I fall.

This darkness in my head.
It drowns me.
Plagues me.
Follows me.

Will it ever end?

After This

After this
I ran.

After this
i couldnt tell

After this
there isnt a sole who understands.

After this
im permanently scared.

After this
i cant forget

After this
I can never trust.

Nice. Great short story Alex. :D

Ah, no problem.

May I post an excerpt from a novel I am working on?

You may.

Thank you. This is the first part of the second chapter of my work in progress, tentatively titled "We Own the Day: Part 1." It's a vampire story set in 1860's Montana, and the main character, Rachael is 16 years old. A little back story: a group of mysterious women has moved to the Bitterroot valley. Shortly thereafter, residents start dying from some sort of animal attack. I hope you enjoy it.
Bob

Chapter 2
I will never forget my father’s face when he entered our home on that chilly autumn evening. He’d left with a group of men that morning, and the town grew thick with rumor as the day wore on. By dark, they had not returned. In spite of my fears I continued with my normal routine, preparing the evening supper: salt pork with roasted potatoes. I had waited, prayed, eaten and prayed once more before he finally walked through the door. My joy was tempered by the expression on his face. He looked drained, colorless, sad.
I stood up from the table and took his cloak, stiff and cold, like the frigid air from which he’d come. He did not smile at me, as was his custom. He looked down at the floor, his face drawn and thin.
“What is it?” I asked. I knew the explanation would be unpleasant, so I steeled myself for the worst.
He sat down and motioned for a glass. Even without words, I knew what he wanted. I retrieved a bottle of rye whiskey from the pantry, a necessary medication for a man in my father’s line of work. I poured a double measure in the goblet reserved for the purpose. He drank it like water. Only then could he look at me and deliver the news.
“Anders Svenson was killed last night.”
I could feel the breath being sucked from me. I knew the man well. I had frolicked with his daughter when we were young, and I had helped his wife, Martha, with her chores before she was overcome by the fever two years past. He had suffered much loss in his life, and now he was lost, as well.
“What happened?” I could think of nothing else to ask.
“An animal attack of sorts.”
This was not unheard of. Situated as we were, with jagged, snowy mountains all around us, autumn brought a downward migration as the elk, moose, and sheep sought out a more temperate place to winter. They were followed by the predators: wolves, cougars, bears. The people of Dalton Mills were thrust into close proximity with these beasts, and every year or two some poor soul would be taken. My father had investigated these deaths before, but he had never returned looking like he did on this night.
“What kind of animal?”
“That’s it Rachael. I just don’t know.”
I could see how troubled he was. I walked to the fire and returned with his supper, still warm. I set it in front of him, and while he didn’t push it away, he didn’t eat it, either. He more or less ignored it, which told me how deeply he was affected by what he’d seen. I sat down next to him and took his hand in mine, as if the parent were suddenly the child.
“Tell me about it.”
He took a deep breath and began. “I’ve never seen anything like it. His throat was torn, like a cat might do, but there were no scratches on him. When a cougar or a lynx attacks, they come in with all four feet, claws grabbing hold of anything they can. A wolf will go for the throat, but the others in the pack will bite the body to distract their prey. A bear will tear with his claws and bite at a man’s head. There was nothing like that. His throat was torn and he was bled out.”
I cringed at the description. Anders Svenson had been a tall, powerful man, yet kind to all. I could not imagine him in such a state. But my father had seen death before, many times. It wasn’t like him to be shaken so. There was more, I knew it.
“Tell me the rest.”
He paused, like he didn’t know how to continue. Finally, he looked me in the eye and spoke. What he said left me cold.
“There was no blood.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the ground, on his clothing: there was no blood.” He turned away and spoke softly, but I had no trouble understanding what he said next. “He was so pale, it was like he’d been drained, but I have no idea where the blood went.”
“You don’t suppose he was moved?” I asked.
“No. We looked all over the area. We found no blood.”
A chill came over me. I’ve never scared easy, but I am not naïve. Very real dangers exist outside the walls of our little cabin, and from time to time it’s impossible to ignore them.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s only passing through.” He said it like he knew it wasn’t likely.
“What do we do?”
He looked at me firmly. “We don’t do anything. Until we get this thing, I want you staying here, near the cabin.” I could feel my face turning red with anger and shame as he said this. “We sent for an Indian tracker. He’ll be here in the morning. Some men from the town and I are going out to hold this animal to account.”
I admired my father’s resolve, and his general optimism. Evan Dougherty had taken the job of Sheriff in this town because he was possessed of such an optimism, and it served him well as he attempted to keep the peace in a place that contained an unstable mix of riches and broken dreams. Gold had built this town, and gold caused many of its problems, but this was a danger of unusual degree.
“What about the women?” I asked. “Do you think they will be troubled by this beast?”
“The women of the town?”
I looked at him in a way that let him know what I meant.
“Oh. Those women.”
“Yes, father, those women.”
“I suppose they should know about this.” He began to stand and simultaneously reach for his cloak, suddenly resigned to the fact that his day was not yet over.
“Let me go with you,” I said.
He gave me a concerned look. “You’d be safer here.”
“I’d be safer with you.”
He had no argument. I know he was concerned for me, but he could never deny my wishes. It was a weakness that he readily acknowledged. I grabbed the repeater from next to the fire.
“You think you’ll need that?” he asked.
“You tell me,” I said, cradling the rifle in the crook of my left arm like I had been born with it there.
“If it makes you feel better.”
“It does.”

I've just created two videos for two of my books - does that count? If so, I'll post the links.

That's great! Thanks. :)

Found this from ages agot

/no title/

Her smile was strained
Her eyes were a show of pain
She tried to keep back the tears
But her struggle was in vain

She tried to fit in
She tried to joke along
She tried to be just like them
She even sung there song

She walked home every day
She walked home all alone
She even lied to her mother
Why she didn't bring friends home

I wish i could help her
I wish i was her friend
But my best friends the bully
And our friendship will end

One day she didn't come to school
The teacher was in tears
Teacher says shes dead,
She planned suicide for years

I looked at my best friend
She had no look of shame
Why didn't i stop her?
Am I the one to blame?

The teacher found out who it was
The one who caused this pain
I tried to help all i could
But still felt i was to blame

So help all who are bullied
Be nice, be there friend
Because if other people aren't
It could be the end

Wow, that's very powerful, and sad, and really brings you to think about your actions, and those of others.

Found this in one of my old school book's

I was a pumas purr, a lions roar and the zebras stripe. I was the seal; the shark that it battles, and the oil deep in the sea.

There was life in the mountains where birds would fly high. There were tigers in the forest where small bugs would fly

I need help, need healed, need to be left alone. Why wont you help me, rebuild me, bring back what you lost. Because i will run out soon and all at your cost