Forum Micro-fiction: MonstersMonster. Slayer.Forum Micro-fiction: Monsters by fenicksreborn
“Murderer is more like it,” he said in a disgust-tinged voice as the last shot rang out. Grimly surveying the carnage, he lowered his weapon. Shaking his head and running his free hand through his hair, he continued, “Not like more of these things won’t just pop up tomorrow…”
“Or the next day…or the day after that…” he heard from his left. Glancing that way, he saw a woman; girl really, in faded blue jeans and leather jacket.
“What do you want?” he asked, looking away again, keeping watch for more dead rising.
“Is that anyway to greet your little sister, huh, Nicky?” she asked in a singsong voice.
Turning towards her, he harshly replied, “You’re not my sister, Jesse. Now, what do you want?”
Deciding it was better not to argue, Jesse told him, “The boss wants to see you.”
He motioned her to lead the way.
Forum Micro-fiction: Nightmares“NOOOOOOOOO!” she woke up screaming, anxiety clawing at her insides like undead fingers from a grave.Forum Micro-fiction: Nightmares by fenicksreborn
She remembered the feel of their greasy hair and wet lips moving along her neck; of being held by large hands against a wall; the cold steel of the dagger against her throat; and the sound of her garments tearing as they were roughly removed. A thin red welt now flattered her neck like a necklace of shame.
In the grey early morning light, Locke dressed. Work did not stop just because one had recurring nightmares.
Donning dark brown boots and matching mask, she strapped on her ash bow. Smirking at the reflection in the mirror, she turned and left the room that had been her home for the last few months, a spring in her step.
It was time for a reckoning.
Forum Micro-Fiction: FairytalesRunning. She was always running. Though, given that she was someone who had a habit for acquiring items through less than legal means, she understood it. Not that this made her enjoy it anymore.Forum Micro-Fiction: Fairytales by fenicksreborn
“Stop! Thief!” she heard someone exclaim. Turning her head, her obsidian hair whipping, she collided with a solid wall of giant and fell.
Sprawled on the ground, she looked up through twilight bangs. The giant loomed over her, arms crossed, glaring at her with his pig eyes. She began backing up, as the guards closed in through the crowd, her hand brushed against something round and metallic. A bright blue flash, and she was gone.
There were gasps around her. Looking down at her hand, she found the amulet pulsing blue. They could not see her, not wanting to see if they could touch her, she got up and slinked away, picking pockets as she passed.
Seeing and reading this is kind of timely for me. You see, yesterday we went shoe shopping for me. I wanted a new pair of sandals and to look into a pair of shoes for the wedding. I also wanted a pair of ankle boots I had seen on the website, but sadly, those were not meant to be. Due to various things, I have to get flats and wide width. This makes it difficult to find decent shoes at times. I had already looked at the the bridal shoe offerings online, and while I hadn't been impressed, I was hoping maybe there would be something different in store. There wasn't. All the flats offerings looked like crap, while the heels looked gorgeous and pretty. In the end, I got two pairs of the same sandal, one in white and one in black.
But this made me depressed and it snowballed into a bigger thing. I ended up breaking down on Brian twice last night. Not only am I under a tremendous amount of stress with planning the wedding and making sure we can pay for it all, but with school, my health, and going through the bankruptcy. To add this on top of it, and I just don't feel pretty...beautiful. With all my health problems and the machines/meds that go with them, I tend to feel like a freaky monster of nature. I was wearing one of my soft, elastic headbands yesterday with some bobby pins to hold it in place because my hard headband has been making my headaches worse, but all I could think about was people seeing me and comparing me to Richard Simmons like my brother did one time, and it hurt. No, I shouldn't worry about what others think, but I do. I want to look good when I go out. At times it feels like the only thing I can control.
It's hard when I have days like this. It can be devastating when little things can have such a damaging effect.
Tips For the Novice
Tips For The Novice
It's an all-too common occurrence on my periodic forays into the world of internet poetry - writing weakened by a lack of fundamental knowledge concerning the essence of poetry writing. There are no rules set in stone about creative writing. The writer that strikes new trails can make a lasting impact on the world of poetry, but the chances of a writer stumbling upon golden words without a solid knowledge base are slim to none. The following tips for novice writers are intended to help shore up those fundamentals, to help the young writer breathe the essence of life into their poems, and to better share that essence with the reader.
The most important element you can inject into your poetry is imagery. Imagery is made up of sense data: color, sound, smell, temperature, the feeling of physical contact. When we remember anything with any vividness, we remember in images. When we fantasize or hallucinate, it is i