Quoting Post Archived Topic: It will not be bumped to the top of the forum. Topic The LiveWire Writing Contest Membername   Not a member? Sign Up Free (takes 20 seconds) Password   Forgotten your password? Post Font: Verdana Arial Black Georgia Comic Sans Impact   Size: Tiny Normal Big Huge   Color: Default Dark Red Red Orange Brown Green Olive Cyan Blue Dark Blue Indigo Black [ Check Spelling ] [ Post Preview ] [ LiveTags ] Quote: from [m]HXC[/m] at 3:07 pm on July 25, 2008[quote][b]Membername[/b]: HXC [b]Title of Piece[/b]: In With A Bullet [b]Type of Piece[/b]: Short Story [b]Piece[/b]: Like every other day I've lived, when I woke up that Thursday morning I wasn't refreshed, like most people are. Sleep comes hard for me, call it insomnia, or stress, or whatever tickles your fancy, I'm just not very good at it. But that night, I really could have used a good night's rest. I got ready for work and started to head towards the site, all the while trying to make sure my suit saved for later that night wouldn't get crinkled. The last thing I need is my brother thinking I don't care about what he does. Since our mom died two years ago we've been drifting apart. I do that when I feel uncomfortable. It's hard for me to continue relationships once something drastic in them has changed, it's always easier just to run. But tonight it was his movie's big premiere "In With A Bullet". It was some really artsy film about the war in Iraq that he was really proud of. (So was his production company. They should be, they spent $120 Million on it.) And he invited me, and I had to go to avoid more conflict with him. Truthfully his work is very well received, critically, in the box office, and by me. I actually am excited to see this. Once I got to the site, I was late, and it was obvious. The foreman was all over me. "Jason, it's about time you got here," he said, "get going there, kid." He was a nice guy, and didn't care much when I screwed up. I think it's cause he could relate to me, I'm not the most popular guy on the site, or in the world, for that matter, and neither is he. "Sorry boss. I'll get on it." And I got started. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Day would be the key word in that sentence. The night was something else though. I got in my truck and headed over to the theatre. "Welcome, Mr. Verando, you're brother will be very excited to see you made it. Please, let me take your truck for you," the valet worker insisted. "No, I think I'll just park over here. I'm not really planning on staying for the after party, I'd prefer to just get in and out," I answered. "Thanks for the offer though." I parked and stepped out of my car. I headed inside, were I was met with an onslaught of the richest and most beautiful people in Hollywood. I never saw my brother as the kind to hang out with these folks, but that might be another reason we're spreading apart. *************************************************** The silencers slipped on to the guns. The group of men look at each other, not saying anything with their mouths but with their eyes. "You ready?" their eyes seemed to say. "Yes." ************************************************** The movie had been playing for an hour when I had to go to the bathroom. I got up and wandered, until I found the it after a few minutes. It was while I was washing my hands I heard the first gun shots. "Everybody get on the ground and no one else will get hurt!" the ski masked leader yelled. His Henchmen were already rounding everyone up. By the time I got out of the bathroom to see what was going on, it was too late. They had everyone surrounded. I ran back inside the bathroom and grabbed my cell, to find it's battery dead. I always seem to forget the most subtle things, such as charging my phone at night. As if in response to my action, "Everyone hand over your cell phones!" the leader of the attackers shouted. The actors, writers, and directors all cooperated. I had no other choice. Whatever these guys had in mind, I wasn't apart of it. I fled. I went back to the parking lot, and first thing I was looking for was the valet kid. I found him dead behind his stand. Who ever these guys thought they were, they just got on my bad side. My first plan was to find my car and go get some sort of authorities. But once again, Lady Luck proved how much she hated me. I was on empty. I figured I might as well give it a shot. I pulled my car out and saw a shadow move. "Looks like the ski mask boys had thought this through, and left someone to make sure no one drove away," I thought. "Pretty boy, I got something to make your skin squirm." The maniacal shadow screeched as he held the grenade ski high. I had no choice, I had to make a move. I grabbed the nearest thing to me in the car, a shovel from work earlier that day. As he moved closer to me, I rolled out the opposite door, lunged at him and hit him across the face, knocking him out cold. Once again, Lady Luck left me in the dust. Shadow had already pulled the pin. ************************************************** "Oh my God! What was that explosion!" "It was nothing, Mr. Andrew Verando. Please, don't worry. We'll be here for a short while, collect our money, and you can get back on with your premiere. I was loving the film so far, truly." whispered the ski mask's leader. "You'll never get away with this, whatever your plan is," Jack Warren declared. The gun shot rattled through the movie theatre. The leader killed Jack Warren before even looking at who he was. "Ah, that's unfortunate. I liked Jack Warren's films. He was a wonderful actor. But there is a reason I'm known as Cold Hard Killer. I'll kill you before I know why I'm doing it, and while we're on the subject, you shouldn't this take attack personally. It's all for the cash. That said, let's start talking business," he now yelled to the entire audience, "We will take you one by one, give you your cell phone back, and we will monitor your call. You are to tell whom ever is in charge of your finances to send all of your funds to this account," he yelled as he lifted up a piece of paper with the account number of a Swiss bank account on it, "you do that, all will be well. You try to contact authorities, and you'll be hanging out with Jack Warren. Everyone understand?" ***************************************************** I got up off the floor and brushed myself off. I got away far enough to not be harmed by the blast. My car was blown up, everything I had in it was gone. I had no idea what to do. All I had was my shovel, and my tuxedo on my back, like some kind of fancy diggerman. I had to go back inside. There was no way I was going leaving my brother like this. I went back in and start surveying. From the looks of it they had five men, two with handguns, and three with SMGs. There were three floors to the building, the canopy, the middle, and the ground. They had one sentry on the canopy, two on the middle floor over looking the hostages, and two on the floor with the hostages. I was on the middle. I snuck up on the two on the middle floor two guys with SMGs, and got a lucky break. "Dude, I've really got to go to the bathroom," one of the attackers said. "Whatever, I got them under control," his friend replied, "go to the bathroom. Just, hurry back. I have to go too." "Thanks." Now I had an opportunity. I stalked the attacker on his way to the the bathroom and watched him slip inside. I'd been in fights before, but never one's with guns. No matter, though, I thought. Who wants to live life hiding in the corner? Not me. I gently opened the bathroom door. "Hey, you have to go that bad man? I don't think boss would be happy if he saw us both off our post," he assumed. He didn't even look up at me from his member until I was headed toward him. I took my shovel and lifted it in the air, that caught his attention. He grabbed his gun, but it was too late. I brought my shovel down and smacked his gun out of his hand. And lifted it back up and slashed him across the face, the edge of the shovel slicing his neck and face a little. He was unconscious now, or maybe worse. I dragged him into a stall and left him there. Just as I was preparing to leave the bathroom, the other attacker on the middle floor walked in. "Scotty, you all good in here? Boss says we're leaving soon, he's collected $400 million from the rich pri-" just then I lunged at him. I didn't have enough time to lift the shovel and bring it down on his head, so I jammed it through his stomach. The blood stained my tuxedo. He stood motionless, with my shovel through his midsection, like a foosball player. I slid my shovel out of him and looked at his gun. I'd never fired one before, so I wasn't too sure about my ability to aim. I figured I should take it just in case though. Next I moved to the canopy. The attacker on the canopy was smoking a cigar, with his gun on the table next to him. "I thought you were supposed to smoke cigars after the mission is done," I asked. Puzzled, he turned around quickly and reached for his gun, however my shovel had knocked it aside. He punched me in the arm, forcing me to drop my shovel. He punched me again in the face, then once in the stomach, before I punched him in the jaw. **************************************************** Cold Hard Killer dragged another body from the room designated for those to call their financiers. "Another one trying to call the cops," he informed, and added the new body with the group. He was up to 6 dead bodies now. He fired a few rounds in the air, just to scare the audience. They screamed. "Now, everyone stay calm," Cold Hard Killer began, "We're almost done here. Let me just drop a line to my boys." As he said that, however, a man dropped from the Canopy, hitting the ground on his back. He didn't get up. "Shit." Cold Hard Killer remarked. *************************************************** That was a wrong turn by me. I shouldn't have tossed him off the edge, that'll scare the two left. They started to run out the building, firing a round whenever they got the chance. Not at anyone in particular, just to instill fear in the crowd. I made it down to the middle floor, and then jumped off the railing to the ground floor to see them running out the back door. Cold Hard Killer's right hand man was nearest, and he stopped and looked at me. Cold Hard Killer stood back, and watched. "Haha, it's just some actor who thinks he's an action hero, I'll kill him," the right hand man declared. I rushed him and swung my shovel. "I'm no actor, I'm a construction worker," I informed as the edge of the blade made a nice line across the neck of the right hand man. He fell to the floor. "Who the hell are you, with your shovel, and your tux. You some kind of, Fancy... Digger... Man?' Cold Hard Killer stumbled. "I like the sound of it," I replied, but in the moment I wasn't even thinking, and Cold Hard Killer took a shot at me. The bullet hit me in the shoulder, and I dropped to the floor. Cold Hard Killer escaped. Wait. I can stand, I know I can, I thought. I got up and walked out the door Cold Hard Killer escaped through. I could see him running off. I thought about the gun I took from that guy in the bathroom, picked it up and fired the complete magazine at him. He continued to get smaller and smaller. Lady Luck really hated me tonight. All I wanted was to enjoy my brother's new film. But I can't let him walk away with this, he killed too many people. I limped closer. I had one chance left. I started spinning in circles, as to build up momentum, holding my shovel with two hands. The figure in the distance was getting smaller, I had to release it, then I did. The shovel I'd been spinning in circles with like a javelin. The shovel came down, and pierced him through the stomach. Cold Hard Killer fell to the floor. Lady Luck, I knew you loved me. Just then, my brother and a few others caught up with me. "Jason, that was amazing! You saved us!" Andrew remarked. "Don't worry about it. I had nothing better to do." I replied as I lit a cigar I had taken from the guy from the canopy. I took a long drag, and walked off to the bathroom. I had to go. [/quote] FAQ Keyword Search: Post Options Favorites Manager Notify me of new replies to this topic by email Notify me of new replies to this topic by private message Original Post noraa Posted at 5:14 pm on June 26, 2008 We've got contests for pretty much everything else. Now it's time for you writers to show your stuff. Tired of contests asking for Anat Ghelber look-alikes? Sick of watching your poems fall out of the fresh topics page unnoticed? Annoyed with the dismissive quality LiveWire has towards writing? Most of us writers are. But now we have a chance to shine. Now we have the opportunity to show our stuff, to be in the spotlight for once. How it Works: The LiveWire Writing contest will start off in this thread. You will post your piece of work with the necessary information (I'll describe that in a little bit). The posting will go on until September 1st, 2008. You've got a lot of time, over two months, so perfect your work! Make it amazing before you press submit. Then, four judges and I will each pick two favorites of ours (the judges will message me their favorites). These favorites will be forwarded into a new page. They will each be posted again in the topic, and there will be a vote. It won't be a pole, since those are pretty easy to cheat. We'll pick the top 3 from the vote. A final voting topic will be posted with those 3 pieces. They will be voted on, and sorted into first, second, and third places. Points will be awarded to all finalists, and the first place winner's piece will be reposted in all of its glory.   How do I submit? Here's the format you should use for entering: Membername: Title of Piece: Type of Piece (Memoir, Poem, Short Story etc.): Piece: This format will ensure that we have all of the necessary information to judge. RULES!!! You MAY NOT post anybody else's work and if you are caught doing so you will be immediately disqualified. You MAY post work that has been written prior to the contest. You MAY NOT post work that has been professionally published/has won awards and has a chance of publication.   Works without the correct submission format WILL NOT be considered. You will be notified of the problem and given the chance to repost it.   Posting works containing anything against LiveWire's Guidelineswill result in immediate and permanent disqualification. Post wisely. ANY mockery of the work of another member is prohibited, and will result in immediate and permanent disqualification. You MAY NOT edit your post once it is submitted. As Shakespeare wrote, What's done is done. You MAY post infinite works, HOWEVER they cannot be repeats or edits of former entries.   Judges : Message me if you'd like to be a judge. Judges cannot participate in the contest. To be a judge you must be a member with... ...at least 100 days active ...a rank of executive or higher ...Support leader status (please don't argue with me on this one, it's simply that I trust SLs to be more responsible). Tech or Peer is fine.   ...a fairly clean record I'm only taking four judges. If you're interested, message me by June 28th, 2008, 11:59PM(EST). Points available Check the contest page!

Replies SpRiNgS Posted at 6:43 pm on Sep. 14, 2008 From clumsy girl to boy set dreaming just barely touching separated stand in silecnce rooftar sleeping city streets living walking scheming Colorfade my vision from the sun too bright remembering what we did to each other thinking of you and my mind goes white nova bright mornings upstate Driving in silence but I like it just fine Turnpike thruway heading due north Back to the city is it already that time? Wrapped in smells of woodsmoke and life Sharing the leaves Caught in your hair Sharing the words floating away Sharing the silence taht brings us together Back home to the Start of the week heavy feet walking subway stair stomping Breath held tight against subway car heat Your body feels light and your T-shirt back's sticking You're here for a reason you can't just be leaving Your heart may be free and your life si your own Your soul is my soul clenched in my fist Drifting apart won't find me alone Moving away from standing still alone Pinch me or hit me this can't be my life i'm only eighteen i slept at least three It's not the city or family that's wrong or not right A lifetime of love and exploring and strife Leaving with you That I can deal with... Leaving as one Too much like death Meeting you later Promise you'll be there Your eyes feel like home And that's all that i'll need You're not in my thoughts more like in my blood The warmth of your skin is my own private season I know it takes courage I think that I could Never be no babe i'm ready to go From our rooftop to sleepwalking on air From eighteen years to my last night with you Mon dernier jour avec toi and i'll be with you forever xlovexmex Posted at 7:14 pm on Sep. 1, 2008 Quote: from xoxo1234 at 3:31 am on July 7, 2008 I got bored babysitting. I know I'm not going to win this contest, but this whole writing poetry thing is at least giving me something to do. Even if I am terrible. A scream, a shout, A bang, he walks out, As she begins to cry She just wants to go back Way into the past So she'll no longer wish to die. She wants to go back to the nights in his car, Talking, wishing, holding hands in the dark, While he all of a sudden turns the radio on, Blasting aloud their favorite song, And as they sing at the top of their lungs, A man passes on his nightly run, An overjoyed grad speaks to his new boss, A baby is born and another one lost, But these two teenage lovers, As they sit and they smile, Are so unaware as they will be in awhile They're self absorbed and naive And can only focus on, That one little spark in between their two arms The spark which eventually turns into a kiss, Which turns into a moment of pure and true bliss, A shared moment, a touch here and there, Which one week later turns into a scare, But together they stand, in a mutual bind, Breathing sighs of relief at that negative sign, Just like they did when the Seagulls lost, As he scored an education with that one last toss. And this poor little girl, who thought she was complete Is all alone to suffer the ultimate feat Because the bliss is all over, Only the memories remain She's even wondering if it was worth it to play the game. Forever, he'd said as he'd kissed her sweet soul, But there's no such thing as forever, as she now knows. Yet this girl is strong, she'll carry through. No matter how hard it'll be to do. She tells herself she has to survive, Because, clever girl, she knows this is life. And life is a beautiful, complicated thing. But most of all it is huge, And certainly surprising. And she has to trust fate, and rewake the dying Part of her deep down inside, Who just wants to give up, just wants to hide. All these years this part of her soul Hasn't needed to come out, because of her beau But now that he's gone, she needs to be brave She'll expose her whole self until she can firmly say, That she can stand on her own two feet, That she can live even through defeat. That she can cope, even alone, Just like it says she does at the end of this poem. this is my favorite of all i have read so far. it's absolutely amazing. Prince o palities Posted at 8:49 am on Sep. 1, 2008 Don't want my work just lingering on LiveWire. Prince o palities Posted at 8:38 am on Sep. 1, 2008 Don't want my work just lingering on LiveWire. Prince o palities Posted at 8:36 am on Sep. 1, 2008 Don't want my work just lingering on LiveWire. XxPaperFlowersxX Posted at 8:30 am on Aug. 29, 2008 Membername: XxPaperFlowersxX Title of Piece: HeartBroken Type of Piece : Memoir. Piece: I loved you and you loved me, where did we go wrong? Time at first passed quickly, being drunk with joy and happiness being in love. After so long being alone and pondering to give up completely on the chance of true happiness. Leaving the past behind me i dove blindly into the comfort of your arms. Little to know you still clung to previous events and my dark past with a death grip. Jealousy and rage do horrible things to a person. My love for you burned bright while yours for me dimmed with each passing day. Others around you assisted in your inner hatred. Turning my once bright lover into a hurtful non-caring monster. Knowing I would never leave your side, i became your emotional punching bag. I took the rage and hateful words for others actions. Instead of holding me close you pushed me away leaving me feeling my past would never let me be, my lonliness to be eternal, constent, and never ending. Covering your emotions and drowning your gentle nature with temporary escapes, alcohol and drugs. It seemed to me you were drowning in everything. Constantly i reached out to you, hoping to be a beacon of light in your storm of despair. The more i attempted to save you the more distant you became. Eventually your words once loving and comforting, hurt worse than physical abuse. You broke what self-esteem you had given me with hurtful words leaving me crippled and feeling worthless, disposable. Desperate i continued to try and amend things. Taking your rude comments and ignoring them. But after days upon days, months upon months, of constantly trying to convince myself everything would be alright, that soon things would return to being like they were in the beginning. But diving blindly into your arms for the comfort of love i blinded myself to your faults and problems. So desperate for love i forgot to guard my heart. Wanting everything to work out like in fairy tales I dropped all defenses and walls around myself. Trusting you with my frail and vulnerable heart. But like many times before my trust was misplaced. Accusations and harsh words exchanged, I realized it was pointless, you cant save someone who doesnt want to be saved, let alone someone who refuses to believe he's losing himself. Breaking my bond with you was painful and shattered my heart into a million pieces. My soul crying out for your love, wishing and reminicsing about the past. So much passion, lost. Letting you go i had to depend on myself. Everything you built and crushed I have to rebuild, this time for myself. Learning to depend on myself and not others for happiness. Time will heal my wounds. Everyday that passes this rift between us widens. A constant reminder of what was and will never be again. Ill love again one day. Love is spontaneous and unexpected. Not to be treated like it has an on/off switch. I'll always care for you, for the temporary happiness you gave me away from my depression. Fate cant be avoided only accepted. Though I will always love you, i have to let go. in losing yourself im scared of being/becomming lost with you. Maybe you'll let the next love that comes into your life save you from the monster you've become. For now i cant...I have to save myself. Alabamarama Posted at 7:06 am on Aug. 22, 2008 Second submission. Member Name: Alabamarama Piece Type: Dialogue, Reflection Piece Name: Death Through Innocent Eyes. Piece: What is it?              My arm. ... Again?              Yes, again. Where is it?              Here. It isn't deep. Alright, well, let's get this cleaned.              Thank you. I thought you'd moved on?              No. Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?              Should I have? Of course. I'm here to help you.              Right. I'm sorry. Would you like to talk about it?              If you would. Well, I'm open for discussion. Go on then.              I still miss her. Yes. We all do.              Yes. Don't move.              I won't. And the dreams?              They aren't dreams. Hm. We could always go back to the doctor if they bother you.              No. They don't bother me. You're sure?              I'm sure. Well alright then. If you change your mind...              I won't. Just try not to hurt yourself anymore. It really is quite frightening.              I'm sorry. I'll try. Alright well, off you go now. I'm very busy.              Yes. Good day. Good day. I miss her. Every day I do. And the others do as well; I feel it every time I see them. But they never ask her back. I see her every night. She can't hear me. I try to follow her, but I trip. I can't reach her. Why don't they talk to her? The red water that came out of her head. It's the same red water that's come out of my arm every morning. But I don't leave. I hope she comes back soon. I miss her. Alabamarama Posted at 6:50 am on Aug. 22, 2008 I agree. No lingering on LW. Candy Junkie Posted at 3:44 am on Aug. 21, 2008 Membername: Candy Junkie Title of Piece: Fatal Thirst Type of Piece: Short story I guess Piece: Her body shakes violently in the vinyl chair stationed behind the reception desk. For the young man, it's cause for alarm, but the cleaner continues to clean and the painter continues to paint, not even slightly phased by the drama. After what seems like a lifetime, the shaking halts and the woman resumes her work as if nothing has happened. She gathers bits and pieces, hands them to the man and begins to explain the ins and outs of his stay. The shower takes a few minutes to heat up so be patient; extra blankets are in the bottom drawer of the closet if he needs them; under no circumstance is he to approach the ginger cat; breakfast is served from 7am to 9am in the dining room. But tonight, he'll choose no shower over a cold shower and be woken up constantly through the night by the harsh cold. In the hallway the next morning, he'll receive a rude awakening by a sadistic feline and move into the dining room to discover the kitchen is closed. Things might have run more smoothly had he payed attention to the receptionist's instructions, but he instinctively gawked at her bizarre, frazzled appearance; and felt overpowered by the unusual, metallic odour of her breath. After a much needed nap, it's back to the dining room in time for lunch. Missing breakfast is starting to have an effect on the man, and the moment he steps into the dining room, he receives a sharp blow to the head. Physically, he's untouched. His senses, however, are thrown into a state of chaos. Unsure what to be most horrified by, his ears tortured by shrill laughter; his eyes suffering from the shock of what lies before him; his nose in agony from the intensified odour of the receptionist's breath. The small dining room is now filled with staff and permanent guests alike; dining on various strange meals and guzzling down their water. Never before has he been in the presence of such an odd gathering of people. Seated at the table nearest to the door is the receptionist, convulsing madly; her frizzy, untamed hair bouncing freely. The other positions at the table are occupied by characters equally as peculiar. A frighteningly frail woman tries her best to recover a half-eaten sandwich from beneath the gentleman passed out on the table, hopefully just sleeping. Meanwhile the painter, the chef and the kitchen-hand are engaged in a rather heated argument regarding the overall state of the world today. Despite the increased challenge that the painter also happens to be employed as the chef and the kitchen-hand, they really do seem to raise some interesting discussion points. A piercing shriek is heard from the far side of the room, and a woman dressed in the attire of a maid jumps to her feet. She begins screaming profanities at the man seated across from her, and once he can take no more, he throws a handful of coins at the table and storms out; his grubby robe dragging along the floor. The maid, pleased with herself, leans back in her seat and takes a swig of her water. The young man starts to wonder if the dining room is really the kind of atmosphere he wants to be in right now, then decides to take his lunch to his room. Sitting in the middle of the king sized bed, surrounded by dirty plates, he lets out a sigh and loosens his belt. Picking up a half-empty glass of water prompts him to wonder if there's another bottle. Three bottles lay in the floor next to the bed, but all are empty and therefore useless. No matter how much water he drinks, his thirst remains unquenched, and suddenly he feels a headache coming on. Dizzily making his way back to the dining room in search of more water, he passes a photograph hanging on the wall. Stopping for a second glance, he recognizes the building as what would have been the Inn in it's glory days, and the people gathered out front as the employees. The young girl bears a striking resemblance to the receptionist, but she lacks the wild look in her eyes, and seems far too ordinary to be the shaking screwball the Inn is home to today. Continuing his journey to the dining room, the young man begins to ponder the quirkiness of the Inn's residents. How does one establishment attract such numbers of strange characters? Were they ever regular people? The man's vision starts to blur. Darkness begins to overwhelm his line of sight, and leaning forward to find the wall only results in a hard impact on the floor. Trying to pick himself up and failing miserably, he suddenly feels an incredible itch creeping up his leg. Scratching wildly, the itch continues to spread. Soon enough, the man is thrashing around on the floor, trying to relieve the unbearable itch. Darkness overcomes him, and the sweet embrace of unconsciousness soothes the itch. He awakens to find himself in the grip of several employees. His mind tells him to struggle, but his body refuses to obey. They take him back to the dining room, and prop him up in a chair. Everyone returns to their seat, and continues with their unusual behaviour. He attempts to stand, but his legs wont budge. Wanting to collect his belongings and get as far away from this place as possible, he tries his hardest to gather the strength, but part of him has lost the desire to leave. Suddenly, this place feels more like home. The woman seated next to him is scantily clad, especially considering her elderly state. She shoots him a sly grin, and passes him the bottle of water. He takes a swig, and the metallic odour fills his nostrils. Suddenly, he feels an itch creeping up his leg.... Candy Junkie Posted at 3:40 am on Aug. 21, 2008 It's not my best work, but it's the best I could churn out while watching So You Think You Can Dance..... Corrupted Innocence Posted at 7:00 am on Aug. 17, 2008 Membername: emma19911 Title of Piece: Passion Type of Piece: Poem Piece: I see fire burning in your eyes, The passion between us is undeniable, Neither one of us can resist the other, The moment we touch sparks fly, After the sparks come the shivers, You know just where drives me crazy. The moment you walk through a door, My skin goes all tingly, I don't even have to look up to know your there, The connection makes my tummy flutter, My thoughts always come back to you, Even when you aren't around, I just can't help but think of your smile, I don't have to be around you, But reminders still remain, The scents, emotions and memories, I will never forget what I felt, Nor will I ever regret it, The passion and excitement remains, Even when I'm alone your still there. marine chic Posted at 9:30 pm on Aug. 16, 2008 Membername: marine chic Title of Piece: The Perfect Storm Type of Piece: Poem (Sestina) Piece: From the east come the clouds. Exploding and boiling over the edging hills, Breathing with a sweet, Malignant breath, Mown grass and dead insect dust. "Here, be still, it cannot find us." Alone with us, Trying to escape the vicious clouds, Nestled in the sill on a bed of dust, A feather, a deceased martyr looking toward the hills. A soundless vacuum sucks away my breath. "Trust me, my sweet." And it is sweet. Since nothing is here with us, We can save our breath, I can listen to your reassurance and the roiling advance     of the clouds. And feel your hands run over the hills And planes of my back, soft with lingering dust, From where you tried to keep me from getting dust On my new sweater, the color of the sweet Tea that we would be sipping on those hills Were it not for the problem of "us" In the first place, because the gods in the clouds, The ones with the malevolent breath, Wish our combined breath A quick and healthy return to the dust. To be swept carelessly of, trailing the clouds For eternity, which could be sweet, Except that we would never remember the "us." I shudder, bury my face into your shoulder's hills, Then think better of it and straighten, watching the    distant hills Disappear completely as my breath Fogs the window that is saving us.   Then, I notice the stirring of dust, Under the bottom pane, taste the sweet Chill of poison, and am suddenly watching my vision    cloud. Sand clouds my breathing, making hills and dunes in   my throat. Your arm brushes me blindly.  I turn to watch the dust   sew your sweet lips, steal your breath... And we watch from within ourselves as the dust covers    us. ElephantStone Posted at 11:20 am on Aug. 16, 2008 membername: Elephantstone Title: Membrane Genre: Short story extract (too long to give the whole thing, but since its the quality of writing youre looking for this should be acceptable) Hailey, was always drunk whenever we went out. She has no self constraint, she has no self control. She just does what she wants to and when she does something stupid, I have to pick up the pieces.            Hailey is sick. Hailey is very sick, but not because of alcohol. Hailey is an awful person. After Hailey and I go to bed and fuck. I fall asleep and Hailey uploads the videos she has secretly filmed of us having sex onto the internet. She sells them to some amateur porn site, and keeps the money. She gets quite a lot. I guess she’s smarter than I ever gave her credit for.               But that isn’t the only money Hailey gets from selling her body. Every Thursday Hailey gets three cheques in the post from three different teenagers to masturbate on a web cam for them. Hailey loves this, Hailey feels sexy and in control doing this. That is how Hailey thinks.               I bet you think I'm not so lucky to have her now. But you know that saying - "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer", well there’s a lot of truth in it. So when I found out what Hailey was doing, Hailey can't keep secrets and can't remember what she says when she’s drunk. I just pretended it never happened. I listened to her fake an orgasm three nights a week on top of me, under me, in front of me, whichever position she seemed to think would look best on film. I didn’t say anything when I found the dildos hidden in a desk.                I don’t love Hailey. I love when I come home to my 1 bedroom flat in a reasonably respectable area, and there’s someone at home, finished her shitty job in a shop, and I’ve got 2 hours till I have to go to work in a bar, and not a word passes between us, until she wants something.              "Davey, honey, Davey, I need...." and then I’m in power for those few seconds.          I always say yes. ElephantStone Posted at 7:02 am on Aug. 15, 2008 Membername: Elephantstone Title: Footprints Genre: Poem Walking back Across the sands… God knows I've Been here before, Following our footprints Where we walked. Put myself in your position, Think that’s the way To sort it out? How you're feeling is written in your footprints, They're deeper in the sand than mine. I even think your footprints are beautiful, How could you have doubted me? Twenty paces of constant crying Haven't shown me anything. The truth is pretty clear though, It’s written here in every footprint. I should have said something, Even if I didn't do it, One word could have changed it, But it was something else. I was a fool not to notice... Looking at your footprints. allornothing4u2c Posted at 10:02 am on Aug. 14, 2008 Memebername: allornothing4u2c Title of Piece: Breathe Deeper Type of Piece: Poem Breathe Deeper Inhale the smoke surrounds her and the giant puffs of air bring her close to you She belongs to you and you to her but the fog separates you it pulls her away from you as if you two weren't meant to be She's pretty you're ugly She's tall you're short She's black you're white but you inhale deeper puckering your lips into a vast black whole you're hungry hungry for the smoke hungry for the fog hungry for love wishing, hoping, praying that when the smoke clears she won't see the pimples, the scars, the bifocal glasses, the braces, the limp, or the ear that's larger than the other, but She will see you and recognize the familiar face you're the guy that stops breathing when She breathes, stops eating when She eats, stops singing, stops dancing STOPS to gaze quietly through the fog, wishing you were on the other side Defrost you enter the cold clouds step by step drawing closer to her, longing to be lost within her Earthly brown eyes you emerge the fog thins out the smoke floats away the clouds ascend back where they belong this is the moment afraid you won't make it to her, you take a picture Flash She's gone with the wind you stand still gazing into the picture no girl just smoke thick grey smoke just fog cat like fog just clouds large confusing clouds you're still in them and you realize she never left and neither did you Exhale Most recent 15 of 111 previous replies displayed.