Provoking Stories

Merely subject your mind to the wonders of our world... This is a series of poems that diverge into the very nature of our glorious planet through events and items that although may not appear to have deeper meaning... can actually reflect on the nature of the known universe.

just a random collection of my poetries

"I like the way you mad, how close we are, i like how you have your hot breath against me." 一Hendery + an sm rookie's hendery fanfiction + english language + sm rookies series + typical drama scenes started on; 29.08.2018 published on; 23.11.2018 ended on; -.-.-

yada yada yada.. sometimes there's the urge inside of me that wants to write i just fight it over.... but it is strong enough so i'll try my best to right this thoughts in my head until it bleeds (not literally though) -I published this recently but it stayed on my story board for quite sometime. The first part was when I was "caught in the moment" of maybe desiring to be a writer. June-01-2018 -For curious people, I think I have to tell you that I was never in love yet not the way others have felt (I suppose). I have never been hurt by boys nor cheated on but disappointed by them?Yes! Not directly but from reading stories and then ended ranting my thoughts about boys, how they treat women and how I wanted to revenge the women in the story I have created- although not as whole but a glimpse of it. June-01-2018 -The second poem, I don't know what I was thinking but it came out that way. So yeah. It sounded like a love story- broken hearted one- but if you read well you'll realize it is not. OR maybe I intended it that way, just like an iceberg, you'll only see the surface if you wanted to, but if you dig deeper you'll see that's its huge, vast, and deep. If not, then you will not. Hahaha. June-01-2018 -All I wanted to say is that: first- I wanted to rid off grammatical errors. I will try to continue the story but I don't know where it's gonna end: happy being single or happy being in a relationship. Second: I did not expect someone to put it on her/his reading list so for your sake, I am editing it. You know who you are because you're the only lucky one. So yeah.

My Forever built into your finite.

This is the story of - A troubled past and a lethal curse, A burning passion for tombs and a thousand little secrets, Hunger for answers and an impossible mystery to solve, Courage to break a centuries-old curse and a promise to keep with the last breath A renowned archaeologist and historian, Ken Hudson, the tomb of Tutankhamun or KV-62, and the curse of the boy king. WRITTEN FOR THE VERSIFICATION CONTEST, CHALLENGE PROMPT - PROVOKE. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Excerpt from the story - I placed the glistening amethyst into the depression that seemed to be made just for the magical stone. The odd shape of the amethyst fit perfectly inside the hollow. As soon as it was placed there, it began to glow. I could feel the strong magic behind the purple glow. It appeared as if some forces were moving inside the amethyst causing waves and ripples in the solid stone. Purple light made its way through the design toward the coffin. My heart was beating faster than ever. A lot happened in a single moment. As soon as the light touched the coffin, the holy amethyst cracked. The walls of the long-forgotten tomb began to shake. I was afraid that the ancient structure might collapse, taking us down with it but nothing in my seven years of research could have prepared me for what happened next. The lid of the coffin of the vicious emperor moved. Then came the rotten, shriveled yet somehow alive corpse of the nineteen years old pharaoh, Tutankhamun himself. I had provoked the ancient forces with that amethyst and the result couldn't be good. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ken Hudson has provoked the wrong sort. What will he do now? What forced him to wake the ancient forces? How will he survive when Flight isn't an option and Fight seems to be impossible?

"I am broken in ways you can't see." A tear drips from my eyelashes and lands on my withered fingers. It feels like nothing. I feel nothing. She gently covers my hands with her soft touch. I stare at her hands, gleaming in the sunlight, adorned by unforgiving knives. She reaches for me in the suffocating nothingness of the ice. I let myself feel the warmth of her fingers on the frozen stillness of my skin, and I wonder if I will bleed. "That's all right, darling," I look up at her, and I see her own scars that mark her shadows, "So am I." We stay there, whispering nothings to each other, and I let the ice melt, taking the blood and roses with it.

What happens when a daughter raised in logic confronts a mother who's already survived the ruins of faith? Set against the fading light of a winter dusk, Saldek - The Dance of the Dead is a haunting and intimate dialogue between Zehra and her daughter Akifah. As the sun sets and fire crackles in the hearth, a lifetime of inherited beliefs unravels-layer by layer. This is not just a story about religion, but about caste, conscience, and the quiet violence of social labels that survive even in exile. Through piercing conversations and painful memories, the story questions what it means to truly be free. Is God the liberator-or the cage? Are we believers... or just beautifully dressed puppets dancing to the tune of systems we never chose? Blending philosophy, intergenerational trauma, and poetic rebellion, Saldek doesn't offer easy answers. But it dares to open the window-and let the wind in.

Basic context. I have some decent ideas and probably won't make a majority of them into story. Therefore I'm going to shove them all into here and develop them probably never. Good luck trying to find "plot" in these random scraps of my deteriorating mental state. Apparently I have the mind of a poet I really didn't know it

This is a ghost story that, in turn, isn't about the ghost at all.

everytime i feel something odd i write it down in poems here -a poetic form of journaling

In two hours, John Washington will be dead. As the clock ticks to his final seconds, he only asks for three things; a pen, some paper, and your time. In exchange for the above, he sacrifices what time he has left with hopes that perhaps his story will possibly save others (possibly you) from a similar fate.

"I'm from a world where every negative comment from other people is permanently marked on my body. And I'm one of the only lucky ones that doesn't let it get to me. Although, this hasn't always been the case."