1.19.2015

pain
so much pain
teeth clenched
stomach tied
i was there
but you don’t see me
i try to hold back
hold back the tears welling in my eyes
i feel like i could puke
is this what i get?
for caring?
my stomach churns
hard.
harder.
my throat hurts from trying to hold back
the sob trying to find its way out.
pain.

so much pain.

-xx Anonymous #1

1.16.2015

Sigh

One sigh.
Then another.
Pacing back and forth.
Even the stuffed animals
Get dizzy.
Eventually
collapsing
onto the bed.

One sigh.
Then another.
Thinking
How horrible you are.
How they hate you.
Why they hate you.
You know why.

One sigh,
then another.
You understand.
You just wish...
you wish so deeply, too...
that they knew.
You still care.
You still love them.
Your best friends.

One sigh,
then another.
You pushed them away.
You want them back.
But it's too late.
They're gone.

-xx Anonymous #2
ANOTHER writer is being invited to the blog, they will post soon after our evaluation. They will be known as Anonymous #4

-xx Anonymous #1
Thank you, followers! All of the blog posters appreciate it from the bottom of our black, cold hearts!

-Anonymous #1

1.15.2015

Just realized we are getting these followers because I accidentally shared my identity. lol. I fixed it thank goodness.

-xx Anonymous #1
Thanks, Maria, for being our second follower!!
Anyone else, follow her example and follow us!! lol

-xx Anonymous #2

Goodbye

// I scream from the top of my lungs. My eyes burn but I scream more.
"SOMEONE HELP HIM," I gasp for air and collapse on the wet road. I cradle 
Zayn's head in my lap, my tears dripping onto his lip. He smiles for a second.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so..." I shut up as Zayn's eyes drift away from reality.
 My throat feels like it has been stung by bees.
 I cry into his chest, his cold, dead chest.
From afar, I hear ambulances, but it's too late.
He's gone.
I kiss his wet lips, and blood covers mine.
I get up from the road and run to the trees.
"Goodbye, Zayn." \\

make your own ending.



-xx Anonymous #1


                                                                 I look up
                                                 
                                                    Into that crystal blue ocean
                                                   
                                                     That brilliant shining sky
                                                   
                                                    That calms all my worries
                                                       
                                                     All the nightmares fade
                                       
                                            The warmth of the sea envelops me,
                                         
                                              filling me with a sense of home
                                                           
                                                            It always does
                                                     
                                                      I always lose myself
                                                 
                                                  In those brilliant blue eyes


Okay, so I made my first attempt at a poem, because I am working on another story, but hopefully it's not too bad.

Till next time, loves!

- Anonymous #3

Empty

Heyy.
This is half a poem I wrote.
I only put in half because, well, the other half is to dark, and... well, you can guess why I didn't want to put it.
anyways, here's the poem...


Drip

Drip

Drip.

A little patter of water

Dripping slowly

Out of the faucet.

I feel like that faucet.

Everything that makes me

Me

Is seeping out,

Leaving an empty husk behind.


-xx Anonymous #2

1.14.2015

Random Post

Hey, anyone who read this cx
So, by now, you've probably noticed how each of our writing styles are a little different.
I will explain what each of our writing styles are like:
 
Anonymous #1 writes mysterious things. Her poems leave you hanging a lot, grabbing for more, not wanted the poem to end (at least, that's how it is with me!). I love her poems, they leave me wanted more, more, more.

Anonymous #3 writes short stories. They are often mysterious, and have at least one death in them. Also, she likes fantasy. Her stories are very detailed, and some have some slightly poetic places. The writing of her stories is beautiful.

I, Anonymous #2, am a romantic writer. I give personalities to things. I can write sad, I can write happy. My poems often have symbolism or personification. For example, The Little Golden Boat is a kind of symbolism for the moon. I wrote it because I was reading 'Anne of Avonlea', and one of the characters said that the moon was a little golden boat, and when it tipped on clods, dreams fell out. I added my own little touch to it, though.
 
I just realized how big my paragraph is in comparison to the other writers (oops). cx
I dunno why I posted this.
Just because, I guess.
 
   -xx Anonymous #2
 
PS: We are all writing a story together. Cant wait to post the first few pages (once we writing them cx Also, those are our favorite colors cx

Mute, a short story

      




  August was your typical 13-year-old, bubbly, outgoing, and loved to be social and be around people.  His appearance was a little different, because he had spiky black hair, sparkling sky blue eyes, and rather pale skin. August had loving parents, a teasing younger sister, and life for him was great. 

August was out on the basketball field one day with his friends, Liam, Marcus, and Trevor.  Marcus was sort of stocky and muscular, and a bit shorter than August, and had dark brown hair, tannish skin, and murky brown eyes.  Liam was blonde, lean, and tall, and had greenish blue eyes, and was a bit taller than August, which gave him an advantage in basketball.  Trevor was the younger one, a couple grades below the rest of the guys, but was just as fun.  Trevor had dark green eyes, light brown hair, and was still a bit short.
               “
       Aw, come on, August, that’s impossible!”  Marcus complained good-naturedly.  They were playing Horse, and August had just scored while throwing the basketball backwards, his back to the hoop.  He now grinned at Marcus.  

     “Sorry I’m so awesome,” August joked, high-fiving Trevor as he went to the end of the line.  Marcus groaned, then attempted to make the shot, just missing the hoop.  When he did, the other guys said “Oh!” all at the same time, then started laughing.  Marcus pretended to look annoyed, but couldn't help a grin.
               
          “Well, dude, that’s an R for you,” Liam chuckled when they calmed down.
               
        “August!  Come on, buddy!”  August’s dad called out of the rolled down window of his car as he drove up, a smile on his face.
                 
        “Sorry guys, see you in a couple of weeks,” August told his friends, smiling at them.
               
         “Man, why do you have to go on a road trip?” Marcus complained lightly.
              
          “My family hasn't been on one in a while, and my mom thought it would be fun for all of us,” August replied, shrugging.
               
          “Well, we’re going to miss you,” Liam said, frowning a little.  August punched him lightly in the shoulder.
               
           “I’ll be back before you know it! See you guys,” August said, then ran to his dad’s car.  August’s dad smiled at him.
               
            “I was about to honk the horn!  You, sir, still have to pack,” He teased, and they drove off.
               
             August and his dad arrived at home, and August walked into the kitchen, from which there were tantalizing smells drifting.  “Hey, mom,” He greeted his mother warmly.  August’s mother was beautiful, with reddish brown hair, warm green eyes, and pale-ish skin, and a lithe build.  She grinned at her son from where she was making Asian stir-fry.
               
            “Hey, honey!  How was your day?” His mom asked, turning back to her stir fry.
               
            “Great! Where’s Sarah?” August asked, smiling.
               
            “In her room.  She might need help with her homework,” His mother remarked.
               
              August nodded and hurried up the stairs, knocking on his little sister’s door quietly.  “Come in!” A rather high-pitched feminine voice came from inside, muffled a bit by the door. August walked in, to see his 9-year-old sister lying on her stomach on the floor of her neat, girlish room, staring down at a math sheet.
               
              August chuckled a bit.  “Need some help there, Sara?”  He asked.
               
              “Would you?!” Sara gushed, making August laugh. He nodded and sat down beside her.
               
                A couple days later, August, his parents, and his sister were in a car, bags packed, to some unknown getaway.  No one but August’s dad knew where it was, and he was apparently sworn to secrecy.  “Come on, Dad, where are we going?” Sara whined from where she sat with August in the backseat.
               Their dad chuckled.  “Sorry, sweetheart, can’t tell you,” He replied from the front seat.
                
                August chuckled as well. “Give it up, Sara, he’s not going to tell us,” He remarked.
              
                Sara glared playfully at him, but suddenly there was a loud screech, followed by a yell from their dad.  For a split second August could see a truck coming straight at them from Sara’s window, and the terrified look on everyone’s face, before he heard metal collapsing, glass cracking, and felt instant pain ram into his side and his throat, before everything went black.
               
               August woke up for a few seconds, to hear sirens blaring, and see the car in ruins around him, and a few flames.  He instantly felt almost unbearable pain in his throat and arm and thigh on his left side, but sucked it up and tried to see if his family was okay.  August saw that his dad was gone, someone must have taken him out, but his mother was completely motionless, blood pouring from her mouth.
               
             August felt a heavy lump in his throat, and turned to look at Sara.  She was lying motionless, eyes closed. Sara? August tried to say, but there was instantly a sharp pain in his throat, so he couldn't say anything.  Sara? He tried to say again, but couldn't.  August felt tears on his face, but it hurt a lot to sob.  He remembered someone’s, probably a firefighter’s face before he blacked out again.
               August woke up now to the beeping of a heart monitor, and white-washed walls.  As he processed his surroundings, he realized he was in a hospital.  What’s going on? He wondered, when suddenly he remembered.  The crash.  Were Dad, Mom, and Sarah all right?  August tried to move, but felt pain in his left thigh and left arm that stopped him.
               
             “No, don’t try to move,” A doctor insisted when he walked in, putting a hand out.  He was a man in his 30’s, and was carrying a white board and marker.  Are my parents and sister okay? August tried to ask, but felt pain in his throat.  “No, don’t try to talk either.  Just write,” The doctor insisted again, handing August the white board and marker.
              
             August furiously scribbled out what he had tried to say and showed the whiteboard to the doctor, who sighed sadly.  “August… your parents and sister are dead.  Your mother and sister died on impact, and your father died not too long ago… I’m so sorry,” He murmured.
                
            August’s eyes welled with tears, and they spilled out onto his face, running down his cheeks uncontrollably.  The doctor walked out slowly, knowing August would need some time alone.  August cried himself to sleep, replaying that split second he had seen the truck, over and over again in his mind.
              
          Turns out, the impact of the truck had sent a piece of glass at his vocal cords, severing them.  So, August was a mute.  Also, there were severe scars on his left thigh and shoulder from the accident, forever reminding him of what had happened, and how he had lost his family.  He could no longer speak, and he never wanted to.  After what happened, he was put up for adoption.  No one really knew his past, because he never told anyone.  Or, I guess, wrote it.
               
         One day another kid from the adoption center, a guy about August’s age, whose name was Crevan, heard August crying from inside his room.  Crevan had bright red hair, and striking blue eyes, and was a good kid, and always assumed August was just shy.  “August?”  He called, opening the door cautiously.  There was August, laying on his bed, crying his eyes out.  Because August’s vocal cords were severed, his sobs sounded strangled and gasping.
              
        Crevan rushed to his side and set a hand on August’s shoulder.  August eventually calmed down, thanks to Crevan.  “What’s wrong?”  Crevan eventually asked gently when he was sure August had calmed down enough.  August gestured to his throat, and the scar that was there, and made a gesture of refusal.  Crevan suddenly understood, and promptly handed August a piece of paper and a pen.
               
        August and Crevan came to an understanding with each other.  Crevan found out about what happened to August’s family, and said he understood.  His parents were actually murdered during a break-in by accident, when the robber just intended to scare them when he was little, and that he had been here a while.  August had written that he was sorry, and he and Crevan started a regular conversation.

               
        The two became friends, playing basketball together, joking, laughing (August at least attempted to laugh), and playing sports.  When August go sad, Crevan was there to comfort him and remind him he wasn't alone.  And August believed him.




Thanks for reading my first short story on this blog, loveys!

- Anonymous #3

Two Sides




imagine
if you did one thing,
and there were two sides.
one adored you.
while one mocked you.
you try to listen to one side,
then the other betrays you.
you try to please the other side,
but you get scolded.
what would you do?
would you run?
hide?
oh but if you do that,
both sides get upset
so you try to listen to both of the voices
screaming in your head,
but one person can only handle so much.
so every night you die,
just a little inside,
until one day your thoughts collide
like crashing waves on rocks.
so you break down.
then both sides comfort you.
but only long enough,
then the cycle begins again.

-xx Anonymous #1

1.13.2015

This poem is almost like a different view point of Katelynn Kenyon's "Do you believe me now" poem.
it is from the point of her friend that she can't see


Katelynn's Poem:

I told you this has gone too far,
Who knew it would leave a scar,
I asked you to stop,
My anger was filled to the top,
But you didn’t believe me,
I said this is getting rough,
Too far, too rough,
I said all I am is pain,
I truly believed you are insane,
Do you believe me now?
I told you no more,
Is that too much to ask for?
I told you this wasn’t fun,
I told you I was done,
Do you believe me now?
I left running in tears,
From all the pain and fears,
And didn’t come back,
Because of your attack,
Do you believe me now?
As tear ran down my cheeks,
I cried for weeks,
I left for good,
From the past that stood,
Do you believe me now?
I moving now,
Because you still don’t know how,
Any of this is because of you,

Do you believe me now?

why are you crying?
why won't you speak?
i don't know what's wrong
i feel like a freak.
all you ever do is look sad,
behind your fake smile.
please forget them,
won't you stay for a while?
they don't know what they are saying,
they don't know the damage.
if only your pain could be healed
with a bandage.
i am your friend,
why are you leaving?
oh, you are moving away?
moving this evening?
now it's my turn to cry.
Is this the end?
my best friend is moving.
was i not a good friend?
why won't you talk to me?
i am putting an end to this now.
i was there for you.
do you remember now?
well its my time to go,
you were all i lived for.
goodbye dear Kate.
of me, you'll hear no more.



-xx Anonymous #1



Time

time
such an odd thing really.
we always run out of it when we need it
but when we don't,
too much of it is there.
so much things
so little time
like a glass on the verge of falling,
time lingers over us.
waiting to be shattered.
or waiting to shatter us.


-xx Anonymous #1

Sleep



This is a poem that I wrote.
I dunno why.
Im nothing like this moody girl who hates life.
Well, not on 364/365 days of the year.......
but I think everyone has their days........
anyways, comment and tell me what you think.......


I sit here,
On my bed.
My room dark.
Im alone,

Unknown.

My little notebook,


Ripped pages,

And broken dreams

It sits here,

On my lap.

My pencil

Sharpened.

Unused.

I fling everything,

My book,

My pencil,

Across the room.

I think

Part of my soul

Is thrown away,

Too.

I sink into my covers.

My pillow stained

And wet.

Slowly,

I fall asleep.

I hope

I don’t wake up.


  -xx Anonymous #2

New Blogger

Hey!
Anonymous #1 and I have recently let a third blogger join us.
She will be Anonymous #3.
She will post mostly stories, due to the fact that she's not a poet like Anonymous #1 and I.
More poems and stories are yet to come...


     -xx Anonymous #2

Thank You

Lizzie, congratulations on being our first blog follower! Thank you!

Sincerely,

Anonymous #1 and #2

Announcement

if you have not figured it out yet, i just let someone else blog with me. This person will be Anonymous #2, so you know who writes what. Thank You.

The Little Golden Boat












A little golden boat.
It rises into the sky.
You can see it...
if you know how.
It sails across the sky,
the clouds tipping
that little golden boat,
Dreams spill
Into the sleep of children.
The bright light
of that little golden boat
casts the world below aglow.
Suddenly,
a shadow comes over
that little golden boat.
The world turns dark.
The dreams shatter.
But...
the little golden boat.
it comes out of this shadow,
with new dreams
The little golden boat
starts to sink
making way for the new day.
It sails away,
but tonight,
if you look closely,
you might catch a glimpse
of that little golden boat.

xx Anonymous #2

1.12.2015

Narcisuss


I kneel down.
The grass is wet with morning dew,
But I ignore it.
Something else is there.
I peer over,
My mouth open in awe,
Like a child on his birthday.
Who is this?
He puzzles me,
This man.
I wave,
And he returns it.
I ask his name, but he stays silent.
I kneel here,
Unaware
Of the sun rising and setting
Again and again.
Im lost in this man’s face.
I can’t stand it,
Not any longer.
I lean forward,
My hand reaching to his cheek.
And I am falling.
Down,
Down,
Down.
I sink.

xx Anonymous #2

1.07.2015

Time

.


people talk like they know.
like they know how everything works.
how it is.
but they don't.
they copy the originality of another to steal as their own.
for their own way of living dissatisfies them.
does your way of living dissatisfy you?
do you pray to the sky for a change?
for a change in who you are?
does your life not satisfy you?
do you wish you could be someone else?
someone different?
do you refuse to stare back into the mirror for you are afraid at what you will see?
time will change darling.
time will change.



-xx Anonymous #1


1.03.2015

Skate


// I push off the board, and place my hands by my sides, all in one movement.
The pink sun travels between the trees just right, and covers my face in it's warm embrace.
I smile as the wind pushes me forward, and I roll down the road.
The trees whiz past me and i catch a glimpse of the pond.
"Beautiful." I say.
"Wonderful." I think. \\



-xx Anonymous #1

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