Let the Lamps Shine

Writer's Block: Seven

2009-02-05T22:09:36Z

Which of the seven deadly sins—sloth, greed, lust, gluttony, anger, envy, and pride—are you most likely to commit?

View 502 Answers

lust
:D

CHANGE IS COMING!!

2008-11-05T04:32:36Z

HE WON!
HE FUCKING WON!
MY WORLD IS SAVED!!

:D

a poem for st.augustine

2008-08-18T06:10:14Z

Reverie

Never stood right beside

And revealed everything

That I can’t become

But I can dream

That you had no power

And in turn

I got the fantasy

Oh, reverie

Writer's Block: Six-Word Story

2008-08-15T04:24:14Z

Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only six words. His response? “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” He is believed to have called it his greatest literary work ever. Can you write a story in six words?

Submitted By femspectre

View 506 Answers

1) The words changed my life forever.
2) She finally floated ashore in October.
3) Ghosts never rest, we never sleep.
4) It all ends where it begins.
5) "You leave behind what meant most."
6) Use the words that hurt most.
7) I think it would've been romantic.
8) Usually, they all look like gtter-trash.
9) We all knew where he went.
~~10) I shouldn't write pain with this pen.~~
11) It's really complicated, but it's simple.
12) Survival is found in every sunrise.
13) Heroes and villains remain the same.

if love and hope was enough to get us there, we'd be gone already

2008-08-10T21:23:38Z

You ever wake up with that feeling that you’re in the wrong place? The bed you’re in is not yours; the room you know you’re in is not where you should be.

But it’s where you are.

Maybe that makes it wrong.

It’s not something that should be a typical feeling, this unfamiliarity with your surroundings.

But I don’t think I want familiarity, or the comfort that should come with it.

I like being in the “wrong” place, because the “right” place never feels right.

Maybe that’s what makes me want to give up a house- I have to keep searching for a home.

Home: Is it really a place? Or is it a person? Or is it all in your head? Maybe it’s just whatever you’re comfortable with, wherever you’re comfortable. Maybe home is peace; at least, peace with yourself and the moment.

Yeah, that’s peace.

Yeah, that’s home.

And as waves roll in and out, I know I want to find a home here, or anywhere like it. A place like this is where you find peace.

A place like this is where you find home.

If The Moon Falls Down Tonight, Pt. 2

2008-08-08T10:46:35Z

Recollections

She was the most beautiful person I’d ever known, inside and out. Long, flowing hair that was so soft to touch; eyes that sparkled and shone with her smile; and skin so smooth and warm. She was the one who sang me lullabies when it rained, the one who held me close on Christmas morning, the one who went wide-eyed at every single small accomplishment I ever made, the one who held my hand but gave me enough confidence to let go and walk on my own.

It seemed when I walked, I walked too fast or too far away. I scared her, the way I was going too fast, but she couldn’t catch up to me. She could reach out all she wanted and she couldn’t get my hand back.

I never even looked back to see if she was reaching. I just remember walking, dashing, sprinting, running far away from the hands that held me.

When she died, I didn’t stop.

I was so used to her absence that it felt no different than the daily routine.

It felt no different than running, with one exception:

The wind was no longer with me. It was cold, and it pushed against me with all its force.

It tried to stop me, tried to reach out and hold me back.

It tried to reach out and hold me, like my mother used to.

“Kline!” I found Jason’s smiling face as he waved me over.

Pats! I smiled and headed over.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Holan kept me back, I failed the math test.

“Bummer.”

Who gives a fuck? I laughed, punched him in the arm.

It was October 12^th of last year. We were all shimmying into our hoodies and shuffling onto the bus, trudging toward the back. Jason and I sat together, of course. We always sat together, and I always got the window seat. The sun was nice and high in the autumn sky, with the colored leaves darting the wind best they could. These were the days I was comfortable living in a small town, the days where just sitting beside my best friend to keep warm after a whole day of cold could make me happy.

“How pissed will your mom be?” he asks, his arm falling over my shoulders.

A lot, probably, I mutter. We both know I don’t care what she thinks anymore.

“Will she let you go out?”

Even if she doesn’t, I’ll get out, I growl. Why?

“No reason.” He mumbles shuffles a bit. This is Jason when he’s nervous.

I never get to ask him why he’s being such a nerd because the bus stops. We get off and start walking home. I always trudge on the sidewalk, while Jason’s a good five steps ahead of me. He usually winds up getting fed up with me and throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me home.

Today, he sticks his hands in his pockets and keeps my pace.

Why are you being so weird?

He squints at me. “What?”

You’re being weird, man.

“You’re on crack,” he laughs. But it’s the laugh he laughs when he’s nervous. I know him too well; I know this laugh too well.

So that’s what I tell him. I tell him, You’re not telling me something.

“Jess-”

Out with it.

He sighs, stops, then scans the street. “Can you come over my house?” he whispers.

I look around. Why the hell are you whispering? I shout

“Jess!”

I laugh at him. I was going over your house anyway, fool. C’mon.

I take his hand and start dragging him toward his house.

Looking back on it, I wish I’d asked him the deal when we were on the bus. I wish he’d told me on the sidewalk. I wish I hadn’t opened the door.

We buried her October 15^th. It was cold and gray; it felt more like winter than fall that day. Jason stood by my side the whole day, giving me his shoulder to rest my head on, picking me up when I had to stand, being my support when I felt like my knees were buckling.

I didn’t cry that day. Not because I wasn’t sad, but because the only thoughts running through my head were: Well, that’s that. It’s over now. My mother and I are over. She’s over. It’s all done.

You think that when the day finally comes where there’s peace in the valley, you will be happy. But peace is only ever a result of war. Peace has its cost.

Rain fell like snow as they laid her to rest. I wondered what the hell we’d been fighting about all that damn time. Years we fought, from twelve to sixteen. Four years of our life together, gone.

Gone with her.

“Jess?”

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. I’m sorry, I must have zoned out.

“It’s okay, Jess,” Jason said. “Everybody’s leaving now.”

Let them leave, I said. I don’t want to leave yet.

Jason tensed up beside me. I knew he wanted to go- cemeteries make him anxious. He’s never had anybody close to him die before, so he’s never been in one.

Until now, of course.

If you want to leave, go ahead. But I’m staying.

He stayed.

We watched them fill up the empty square with dirt, dirt, dirt to the very top. We watched them pat it down into a muddy mess. We watched them try to arrange the headstone in the mud; it ended up crooked.

We watched them leave.

By the time they left, we were soaked.

By the time they left, I’d felt myself fall to the ground. I forgot how to differentiate between my tears and the rain.

My father never spoke to me after that. It wasn’t because he blamed me or anything; he just didn’t know what to say, even if it was “I love you” or “Sorry”.

But I’m a big kid, I can take it.

I’m a kid, though, and that means I’m stupid.

His name was Brown. At least, that’s what I liked to call him. The kid had stuff I never would try on my own and did stuff I would never do. “Try it all,” he’d say. “Do what you can and forget everything that’s not this.” And whatever I did gave me as much focus as it gave me distraction.

I owed Brown my false sense of security, my ideal of happiness.

But I wasn’t willing to pay the bill- at least, not the way Brown thought it should be paid.

Brown didn’t like not getting his way.

This is what I think about as I make my way into Hiker’s Forest, pushing through trees until I finally see Clearwater Creek and the boys standing on the bridge above.

When you’re in your final moment, you think of every moment that led up to it, and wonder they were worth this, your last breath.

I hold my breath and go find out.

**Notification**
This is an original work.
This story- the plot, the characters, the words, everything- are mine, so don’t steal.

nicohhurt @ 2008-08-08T04:55:00

2008-08-08T09:04:02Z

If you were here, I know I’d want to be warm. I know I’d want that fire to burn me the way it does whenever you’re around. You’re something special, something good. And I need you, I know that. In the small ways I can have you, I do.

I have this picture in my head of someone who could replace you, someone who could make me happy and I could make feel safe. This person, this dream isn’t you, though, and while that should be a comfort, it irks me. I’m childish when I don’t get what I want, aren’t I?

Sometimes, I just think there’s a need to fill this dull ache with anything- pain, love, laughter- so that there’s some sensation in its place, something that makes me feel alive. And healthy. And happy.

It’s killing me, knowing who and what I am, and knowing that it’s not what you want or need.

Maybe you need me, but it’s not the same.

In any case, I'll be headed to sunny shores soon. And I can forget, just for awhile.

it's practically all i've been thinking about...

2008-08-08T04:53:39Z

nononononononono
i'm going to repeat it because it's the fucking truth.
i'm right.
i'm right, i'm better, i'm right.
i don't care if i turn out dead wrong,
but i know what i want to scream at the top of my lungs.
i know who i want to be now.
and i don't think i want to be stopped.
i think i want to be wreckless,
and see exactly where it gets me.

maybe i'll do just that.

pickmechoosemeloveme
<3

If The Moon Falls Down Tonight, Pt.1

2008-08-06T13:13:14Z

“Are you coming home tonight?”
Probably not.
“Where will you be?”
Who knows?
I can hear the frown on his lips, so I surrender a bit.
I’ll call, okay?
He grumbles, and I take it as a yes.
I’m gone.

-----

You can’t get into much trouble in this town- unless, of course, you create it yourself.
That’s usually the part I play. I get you into trouble; I get myself into trouble. But they can’t catch me, because I never go home. I’m never the same place twice. And, if you’re in a town this small, that says something.
Smoke spirals before my face, hazes the scene before me. The little green island I’m standing on is just a sliver in the middle of the highway. Colors and headlights speed by, toward and from the sunset.
Look left.
Look right.
Run.

----

“You’re going down, Kline.”
In your dreams, Pats.
I fake to the left, then swing right and throw it up.
Swoosh!
That’s, what, ten to five? I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dribbling the ball.
Jason Patterson is my best friend. He’s got the brightest, curliest blonde hair. His eyes are green behind those thick-rimmed black glasses. He’s about 6’3”, which is a hell of a difference from the shrimp he used to be back when we were five.
Around here, you know someone for your whole life. If you’re lucky, they stick around forever.
For once, I’m lucky.
“Kids! Dinner!” Mrs. Patterson calls from inside.
“Okay, Mom!” Jason throws the ball onto his lawn. “You hungry?”
No, I say. It comes out too quick, too stern.
But the smell of lasagna and macaroni and cheese makes my stomach rumble.
Jason’s eyes narrow.
I roll my eyes and walk past him into the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smile.

----

In the middle of dinner, my phone rings.
Quinn, the I.D. reads.
Sorry, I mumble. I get up and leave the table.
I press accept. What do you want? I spit.
“The Bridge. Tonight.”
What fucking bridge?
“The one over Clearwater Creek.”
For what?
“I don’t know, but some shit’s going down, so I figured-”
Who told you?
“Brown.”
Shit, I mutter. It’s not gonna be pretty.
“Why?”
Did he tell you to call me?
“No, just thought you should know.”
Quinn, I need to know something right now.
“Jess, I swear that’s all I know, I-”
No, dumb ass, not about that! I…I need you to promise me something.
“…Sure, what?”
Have my back tonight?
“Do you really think-”
Damn it, man! I shout, and I can hear everything in the other room freeze. I whisper, but urgently: Damn it, Quinn, will you have my back tonight? Yes or no?
“Jess, c’mon, I-”
Yes. Or. No.
He sighs. I can just hear him rubbing his forehead, trying to will his headache away.
If you don’t, fine, but-
“Of course I have your back, Jess. You know I do.”
Then I have yours.
End conversation, end call.

-----

After dinner, I said I had to go home. My dad had called, we’d had some words, and I got grounded. Mrs. Patterson frowned, but said, “Okay, sweetie. Call us if you need anything, alright?”
The woman cared more for my well-being than either of my parents ever had.
It made my stomach churn.
Jason walked me out.
“Tell me where you’re really going.”
Home, I mutter.
“Fuck the bullshit, Jess, I’m not my mother, I know when you’re fucking lying.”
I always get Jason pissed when I do this. It’s not my favorite part of the job, but like I said, I’m trouble. It’s why he worries, and when he worries, we fight.
I don’t like fighting with him.
It’s nothing, man. Just a meeting at the bridge. I move to make my exit, but he grabs my arm.
“What bridge?” he growls.
The fucking bridge! I struggle free. Take your pick, asshole, there are over twelve in the county! I’m rushing onto the sidewalk, but I know he’s behind me. I half want to take a swing at him, half want to let him pull me back into his house.
“What did Quinn say?” he calls.
I freeze.
None of your fucking business, I mutter.
That’s when I run, before he can catch me.
Before he can save me.

**Notification**
This is an original work.
This story- the plot, the characters, the words, everything- are mine, so don’t steal.

when plans get broken, we get upset.

2008-07-30T21:59:06Z

It’s not right, really.
I know that.
I accept that.
But I still hate it.

I remember it, clear as day, that’s why I can barely talk to her anymore. She sat beside me, rested her head on my chest. I laughed at her and put my arm on hers, because she shivered. Then I just looked at her face, and I wanted to ask her what was wrong. There was that look, that confused look, that “something’s wrong” look that I know too damn well ‘cause I wear it myself.
That threw me a bit, I’ll admit.
And if she was so cold, why was she so warm?
I didn’t understand, I still don’t, but she squeezed me tight. And she didn’t like it when I left.
But that’s just dreaming, right?

I had a dream, and you died. It fucking terrified me because, as unrealistic as it was, the threat was there, the threat was real. And when I woke up, I wanted to call out for you, but I remembered: you don’t live here, you don’t live with me. And I want to ask you to, because at least then I wouldn’t be so worried about you.
Because, in the dream, when I hugged you, you woke up.
You were okay.
Maybe we can save each other that way.

the brighter the picture, the darker the negative

2008-07-24T08:02:00Z

peace can only be accomplished after war.

and P>S>

2008-07-16T04:53:54Z

I can make all of this sound so poetic. Maybe it's unoriginal to hide in words and metaphor.
But it's the only safe place I've got.

Somebody should know. I've got a fever to tell.
But I've spilled enough secrets for today.
You coaxed enough out of me,
I don't want you to hear anymore.
Because, hey, let's face it:
You're your own person, and you don't give a damn what anyone thinks,
Even if they're thinking in your best interest.
Fuck your best interest, your best interest is you
And getting your way.

Recognize this:
Me, I pretend to be stuck in fiction
To escape from the real world.
You, you're just stuck in fiction.
There's no pretending.
Just like there's no pretending
For those of us stuck in reality.

Yeah, I'm righteous.
You walk a mile with my headaches,
With my aching shoulders,
You wouldn't last a minute.

And nobody will say it to your face
Because you're wearing too much goddamn make-up.

Hit the lights, honey,
I'm leaving.

i wonder where i'm going with this

2008-07-16T04:37:33Z

There are secrets I swear to keep, and I’ll keep them. You look like a diabolical playground with the way you swing those hips everywhere. And I’ll never say anything, I’ll dance with you, babe. Because I can take that trust you gave me and twist right on over to you, because I’ve twisted myself to believe that the secret is hope.

You said you didn’t want to tell me; you said you needed to tell me.

I feel like I fucked up. I feel like I can’t make anything better. It’s this powerless feeling I feel like getting rid off when I’m eighteen, when I can leave. It’s better if I do leave, I know. I need to stop all these useless addictions, send myself to this rehab I’ve created in my head, send myself off to this life I’ll create in reality. And all the looks and all the words will just stop, because I’ll have some sort of power. And that power will blind me, that power will blind all the blue and black.

I don’t like the music I’m listening to. I want to make my own, just so I’ll like it. Because it’s a sad day when the music that’s become the soundtrack to my life gets tossed out into the rain because I hate it and want it permanently destroyed. It’s a sad day in general, because I’m the kid that can’t get anything right. I say I’ll do right yet I apparently do wrong.

So sorry, not really.

Really, I’m taking the job because I need money. I refuse to make anymore so-called “sacrifices” in your name. I don’t want to do it; I need to do it, so I’ll do it.

I really just want to puke.

You make me so nervous that I want to puke.

I don’t want to cry, though, and I take that as a good sign.

If you hadn’t noticed, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Let's stop playing martyr and pretend we're okay.

it hasn't gotten any better OR worse

2008-06-21T05:31:09Z

what's wierd is this:
i don't feel a damn thing.
maybe anger, if you can spark that fire.
but i just feel as cold as ever.

it's not right, right?
there's not a hint of anything.
no hate, no love,
no remorse, no rejoicing,
no happiness, no misery,
i laugh.
i sing.
i smile.
i frown.
i yell.
i don't cry.

and i don't want or need anything.
i just, i don't know.
i had a great day...
tell me why i can't feel it,
why i can't feel anything anymore.

and i'm almost out of time...

you know what?

2008-05-21T01:31:32Z

i believed in a human magic.
i believed that having faith in hope would be enough for love.
i believed love, or some connection with somebody, was a very, very powerful force.
i believed if i persevered, there would be some kind of reward.
i believed the words i put on the page would somehow find their way to reality.
i believed in the family that surrounded me, in the friends that i chose.
i believed my life held significance somehow.
i believed in you, most of all.

but one way or the other,
we all grow up,
and that golden image we grew up with
gets tarnished and scratched.
we realize maybe we just can't fly
like we told ourselves we could.

i'm not saying i'm going to stop trying,
i'm just saying it's disheartening,
trying to overcome the ashes of all you once loved.

and you know what?
it can't matter in the morning.
because i keep waking up,
i keep taking breaths that keep me alive,
and no matter how old this town gets,
the days are always new.
so it just can't matter.
and i just have to keep going.

i'll just have to keep searching for that magic
that i lost, if i ever had it.
but when i find it again, or if you ever find it,
it can't go to waste.

now, for a proper introduction:

2008-03-24T01:10:03Z

my name's nico. that's what i like to be called, anyway. it doesn't seem to register with some of my family or friends, but i'm really quick to correct them.

writing is my life. it's going to be my career someday, so i do it often and only let people read what i feel is my best work. yes, that's right: you, anonymous reader that you are, are reading my best work if it's on here. maybe i'll tweek it if or when i find it's not exactly perfection,but as long as i feel it's perfect, you'll get to see it.

i'll give you stories, poems, songs, everything and anything i feel the world needs to hear. somebody has to listen, right?

so. on with it, shall we?

ranting hasn't solved anything.

2008-03-23T08:08:09Z

Note: none of this makes any sense to you, i know, but it's not meant to. ranting never is. you try and solve it for yourself.

it's unfortunate that my family means so much to me- unfortunate for me because i've finally realized the battles being fought are both mine to fight and to stay out of. there's no winning with either maria or kathy: they can't love anyone who they don't control, and since we all have free will, we're unloved. it's not the lack of family feeling either ofthem have, it's the fact that they cause so much...war. no one wants to admit we'd be better off with them gone, where they'd go, i don't know, but anywhere but here would be fine.

i didn't want to leave today, like i did. i cried so much coming "home", but no one noticed. i feel like such a bitch- someone explain to me why it's this way everytime. i know the answer, i just want to hear someone else say it for a change.

she doesn't go away. she's always on my mind. i would love to tell her i love her, however late it seems for that now. she won't even look at me, even though i won't look at her either. she's always on my mind, though.

this place doesn't smell or feel right. i'm waiting for ma to see that, praying she does soon. or she will lose me, because if i get the chance to leave, i'm gone.

"who could love me? i am out of my mind!"