30 Days of Writing
  • Reads 1,325
  • Votes 54
  • Parts 30
  • Time 2h 25m
  • Reads 1,325
  • Votes 54
  • Parts 30
  • Time 2h 25m
Ongoing, First published Feb 04, 2015
Writing Challenge with @mere_inkslinger with irrelevant illustrations by @Mori_art_ti
February/March 2015

Variety of topics, weirder the better.

Excerpts:
mere_inkslinger:
Day 3: 
"To me, being a person means feeling emotions, even if you know you will crash. It means riding a wave of light, even if you are riding into darkness. It means looking crazy on the outside, because it's the only way to feel peace on the inside.

I believe no one else will ever understand."

Day  6: 
""MOM! PUT SOME POP-TARTS IN THE TOASTER!" I screamed into the kitchen from the bathroom."

Day 12:
"I opened my mouth to scream, because I was terrified I was about to die.

What little air I had left floated away from me and towards. The sun. I looked to it, and saw a figure coming towards me.

Please... Max...

Suddenly I saw stars and everything was black."

minipage:
Day 6: 
"Knowledge isn't necessarily power.

We all feel so determined to know everything. We want to know why we exist. We want to know how small an atom is. We want to know why Timmy broke up with Jessica's ex-best friend, Mary's sister's cousin because OMG that is so important.

We want to know when we'll die."

Day 8: 
""Dezzy, I'm scared," Charlie said.

"There's nothing to worry about," I said.

Pieces of heavy fabric began falling on top of our bodies, lined up perfectly within our castle.

Charlie still struggled. I moved my fingers from around his wrist, into his hand, interlacing our fingers.

"Friends forever," I insisted as we took our last breaths."

Day 10:
"When prison life couldn't get any worse, the budget cuts came.

The first thing they got rid of was the pudding."
All Rights Reserved
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Pinwheels and Dandelions by cjacks1124
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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Pinwheels and Dandelions

177 parts Complete

I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.