Calm.

In the wee hours that night

The air was pregnant

With suspense and dread

Come sunrise and

You would find the morning sky

Pierced with bullet holes

But for now

All those souls lived a death

In the eerie calm.


Writing prompt:

https://zoyakubra.wordpress.com/2017/09/23/october-writing-challenge/

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Vacant Stares

The river, it flows

Reflecting images in its course

It gushes forth, every second

A new image

Images never seen by humanity

Images the river hides

Images. The rocks’ secrets.

Of everything that took place

But wasn’t ever seen by eyes

The eyes that

When witnessed miracles

Nature’s greatest

Blinked.

And turned away

Often looked down

At artificial screens

In the presence of Grandeur.

So nature, in revenge,

Feeling insulted

At something the Creator

of the moon created

Being rejected,

Took away their sights

So that they never saw

And all that remained

Were vacant stares


I know I’m not doing these prompts everyday, and BELIEVE ME I had some pretty cool ideas too, but I just didn’t have the time! Also, I love how they make me think! It’s so fun. If you haven’t tried this already, why don’t you check it out here? Also, I’m doing two different prompts at the same time. So you can check out the other one in the previous post.

Check this one out here:

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2017/10/01/october-writing-prompts/

Pink Persuasion

That was them, dark

Being darker still

Rolling about,

Without form.

Then there was a crack,

And there it came, the Light

Pink. Like diamonds.

Making them,

Scatter, then dance

Becoming lighter and lighter

Until the demons finally

Were no more

And all they needed

To leave my heart in peace

Was the tiniest bit of

Pink Persuasion.


Another post for the October writing prompts.

Check it here: https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2017/10/01/october-writing-prompts/

Hunger

There was a crack in the rock. Not a very big one, but it was there nonetheless. Ever since the Earth had spurted him out, he had been cracked. At first he had been made fun of, but then severe warnings from the elders had been issued, and then finally he had been cast out of the community. According to the Grey Rules of Stone and Rock of the community, any rock with a crack must be excommunicated. No rock must ever be known to have some sort of dealings with him, or else they, too, would have to face circumstances.

Naturally, our rock was upset. He had been shunned by society over something he had no control over. Something that wasn’t his fault. In him was born a strong hunger to fill himself. To somehow complete what was after all, in nature, already complete. Little did he know.

His hate for the Earth intensified as he realised that it was, infact, the Earth’s fault he had been cracked! The Earth must have preordained it to be so. The Earth was, in fact, his truest enemy, trying it’s best to ruin chances of all survival! In his flustered little mind, this was all he could think. Little did he know.

Having now established an enmity for Earth and soil, to fill himself and relieve himself of hunger, he turned to the waters. Here were the waters: as yet innocent and pure (in the eyes of the rock), this was it. Here was something that would fill his crack, here it was at last! Looking upon its surface, not considering the hundreds of rocks it had devoured before, which lay in its not-so-innocent depths. This, this was not an enemy. This had done nothing to deform him. This was, on the contrary, something that would help rectify his abnormality! In his flustered little mind, this was all he could think. Little did he know.

The water gushed forth and welcomed it. And our rock, our innocent victimised rock, went forth to conquer society. What did he know, he could never have the upper hand there. Nevertheless, he was there and all he wanted was to drink in his victory, and drink he did. But not his victory.

There is a thing about rocks that if they are cracked (and rejected), their own sense of hunger fails them. They have been hungry for so long they no longer know how to not be hungry. That was the case with our rock too: he was hasty, he drank, he drank to satisfy his hunger. Eventually there came a time when he was full, but how would he know?! He was a rock! A cracked rock! He drank, more and more, until the cracks filled, and overfilled, and finally, began to pull the rock apart. He, in his somewhat deluded ecstasy, would still not stop. Amd eventually, it was the end. Our rock was split into a thousand fragments, to be no more, rejected by the same water he thought was his saviour, absorbed into the same Earth he so despised.


Yet another writing prompt heh. This one was because of Accidentally Inked who pushed me to write! Fenks, inky!

This writing prompt can be found here:

https://zoyakubra.wordpress.com/2017/09/23/october-writing-challenge/

What can I do? I see a writing prompt, I get excited. Thank you Zoya for these prompts! Ha here I am nominating myself lol. Never mind, bear with me.

Have a great day! Don’t let the Grey Rules of Stone and Rock get to you. You’re perfectly complete as is.

Said the Caterpillar.

If only they knew how jealous I was. If only they could see me through a time less traveled. I was a mere caterpillar; they magnificent butterflies. Soaring up high, exploring the skies, seeking things unsought. While I, ugly, fat and indecently crawling. Destined to stay rooted with the Earth, degraded to a mere being of disgust. They: flying, flying, merrily, from this flower to that, traversing this air current to there, imbibing sweet nectar, nectar which my preliminary digestive system couldn’t even digest. I was reduced to eat and chew tasteless green leaves, forever chewing, chewing, rolling each piece down. They: metamorphosis complete, creatures of beauty, creatures sought by every soul. I: denied my chance to even wrap my cocoon, and every time I did manage to do so, it was sabotaged. Sometimes, a mere rip, like a mild attack at a self esteem, quick to heal, forever scarred. Other times: the cocoon destroyed completely, like a shattered self of shards of glass, almost never healing, a self that does not believe in itself anymore. It always occurred to me: I call these people my friends, I stood by them in their metamorphosis, and they? Am I to dry out as a caterpillar? Am I not to fulfill my destiny? Or is this my destiny, and I should resign to it? Have I been fated to never reach the epitome of desire, and inner beauty? Would I die as is, and they be the embodiment of every ounce of my desires?


*this piece of writing claims no scientific accuracy.

Image is subject to copyright.

Hey there! Pt. 2

Take off your shoes. Don't worry, this is dirt, but it's clean dirt. Like the Earth. The un polluted, pure parts of the Earth. Walking on this will actually make you feel better. So anyways, come on in, lonely soul. Yes, we have established the fact that you might not be a lonely soul. But if you are one of the rare people who have found their soulmate, please hold your tongue. You wouldn't want to offend your host? Especially since you are in the host. I mean in my brain. But here we are, and off we go once more on the tour.
So I know last time our goodbyes were a bit rushed and abrupt. What can I do? Management had a fit. Management was still so against having you over again. But what can I do? I had to.
So that's the path we took last time. This time, Management told me to lay out the rules before we went inside. I know, tedious. Anyways: just don't touch anything, ESPECIALLY A MEMORY, and keep to the path. Stick with me because trust me, you do NOT want to get lost in here.
So I thought I would take you to the Insomniac Sector. This is where I am when I can't sleep. You might find that this is covered with crazy colours, but that's just how it is. So come over here. You see this tube? It's like a tunnel but I don't think anyone can fit down here (even if you are skinny and small enough don't try it) but this is also the most unfortunate connection. This connects my brain to my legs. In other parts, similar hollow tubes connect my legs to those other parts. So basically, when I can't sleep, I get this urge to move my legs, hence the tossing and turning. Moving on, we can see over here how the Bad Memory Sector is linked to this part too: every stupid and cringy thing I may have done or said is revisited and re-evaluated. As you can see: the Over-Analysing Sector is also connected. The Fear of The Unknown and The Fear of the Near Future are also located behind that black box. The Fears are actually part of this Sector and we just provide connections when they are required in other Sections or in other times. I can't open this black box in your presence. I'll tell you what it contains: an overwhelming concentrated colour fusion. Opening this will keep you awake for hours, until you feel as if you are loosing yourself and your soul into this. After that the Colours will trick you into the Void. Here, the Void will strip you of your identity and defence. The Void will strip you until you are raw and bare and then it will target you with everything you have ever avoided or defended yourself against. You think you're so smart that you can just choose to not go into the Void? Do you not know of the sinister nature of these colours, enticing you with their ways, luring you in into a seemingly merry world and then… The Void. Many a man has lost his sanity here. You remember when I took your coats at the door? I didn't just take your coats. I took away your material existence. So take a look at yourself. What are you? A bare soul. Vulnerable. So the only material existence here is the one that I possess. Nevertheless, let us continue!
Any questions? No?
Your sanity?
My sanity? You see, this is my brain. My brain is the guardian of my sanity. So yes, I have been in the void, and yes, I have survived it.
The insomniac Sector gets its own access to the Eyes. You know the little innocent light of the street lamps outside which slips in through the tired old curtains and dances on the ceiling? My brain stares at the light until it reaches the intensity of the Sun and becomes unbearable. Aah the connection with the ears: this is what makes me think that my brother breathing in his sleep sounds like a train going around in my head, whistling away in my ears.
This is the overall-over sensitivity of the entire body: usually, I can sleep anywhere no matter how hard or soft it is. But in insomniac times, the slightest bump feels like a huge knife trying to pierce my skin.
Over here, this is the Past and opposite this is the Future. I spend a lot of time inside these rooms. The space in between is (quite obviously) the Present but I guess during Insomniac times being in the present gives me anxiety, even though the anxiety is in anticipation of the future….
So here we are in the Conversation Room. Here I go through any conversations I may have had, online or offline, and think how I could've answered differently or said something wittier if only I had taken an entire insomniac night to think before I answered. Not that there's something wrong with what has been said. But what's an insomniac night without over-analysing and worrying about something completely useless and unproductive, right?

Anyways. I don't want you to start thinking you know everything about me or atleast about this Sector. There's lots that has been left unsaid. It's safer that way. That's the door right there, if you want you can leave, if you want we can have a coffee or something. It's up to you but I won't show you more. I think this is enough for this time.
So what do you say? Coffee or "Rab Rakhan"?