Rawr I’m A Dino

She/her | 20 | tired all the time | a tumblr for me to post some of my past writings for school from seventh grade to college so I can finally delete them and clear up space

[az193689]

A Defining Moment

Sensitive, melodramatic, overly emotional, I choose to care too much rather than not caring enough. At a young age, I learned about the detrimental, permanent consequences that stem from selfishness and not caring for others. How one selfish action can cause an unforgettable, scarring moment for the people I care about as well as for me(Participle). Tears and compassion build relationships and these rough beginnings always lead to a beneficial change. One specific event involving a long shower on a cold night, my older brother, and a nasty fight between my parents made me realize I needed to act more caring and considerate of others(Climax). 

Coming home from my grandparents’ house on an unbearable freezing December night, I craved the warm embrace of a steaming shower(Participle). Pushing my clueless brother away from the door, I breathlessly raced up the stairs to the bathroom. 

Behind me, I heard him mutter, “Not fair, I’m older.” 

At the top of the stairs, feeling high and mighty, I raised my shoulders and yelled, “You’re just a sore loser!” 

Feet moving at lightning speed, I raced to grab my pajamas(Hyperbole). Internally celebrating my victory, I locked the door with a satisfied smirk, taunting him in my head, I win and you lose, too slow to beat me. I rarely got a chance to best my brother in anything. I hopped under the warm shower, a heavenly waterfall of bliss(Appositive). Nothing could ruin that moment. 

Through the roaring sound of the burning water,(Participle) my parents’ raised voices cut through my joyful bliss like a knife, increasing in volume by the second. I didn’t want to leave my warm heaven and walk out into a battlefield. Maybe if I stay in the bathroom long enough, they’ll stop. However, I knew how unrealistic my wish was. They never stopped; they fought until their screams turned into nothing more than a raspy whisper. Praying the fighting would cease by the time I got out of the bathroom, I stayed in the shower, with the scalding water(Participle) cascading over my skin until it ran as cold as ice(Absolute). Turning off the water, I sighed. I could still hear my parents yelling at each other in a language I could barely understand, let alone comprehend.

Getting dressed, I devised a plan to sneakily make my way to my room without drawing attention to myself. Maybe if I leave the door open just a crack, it won’t make a sound by shutting. If I wear my socks, I can sneak out of the bathroom without making a sound. When I get to my room I can just softly close the door. My parents won’t hear it shut over the sound of their voices. Satisfied with my poorly thought out plan, I crept out of the bathroom with soft footsteps, carefully trying not to make a sound. As soon as I took one step, the screams surrounded me, filling every nook and cranny of our house. I successfully took two steps before an arm shot out of the storage closet right next to the bathroom, grabbing my tiny wrist so tightly I thought it would bruise. With an iron grip on my wrist, the arm yanked me into the closet while quickly, yet silently, closing the closet door. The handle of an old broom dug into my back every time I attempted to shift into a different position. The sliver of light peeking through the crack(Personification) between the door and the wall barely outlined the face of my kidnapper, my brother. He moved closer to light, allowing me to see the flurry of emotions passing through his eyes. Fear, anger, annoyance, and worst of all, betrayal(Climax).

In a harsh whisper, he said, “I’ve sat in here since they started fighting. It’s not fair that you got to escape it while I sat through it all. Why did you take so long? Why did you leave me?”(Anaphora)

His words left me speechless. The look of sheer terror and betrayal in his eyes when he asked me why I left him alone caused my heart to audibly crack. The overwhelming feeling of guilt weighed me down as I questioned, how could I leave him all alone? What kind of monster would do that? How could I be so cruel, so heartless as to leave my own brother, alone and afraid,(Adjectives out of Order) to endure the sound of my parents fighting? Why was I so selfish? At that moment as I sat next to my trembling brother(Participle) in the inky black of the closet with the screaming resonating throughout the whole house, hearing the sniffles and muffled sobs coming from my brother and feeling my own eyes burning with tears, I knew I needed to change. 

With my shoulders hunched over in guilt, I muttered, “Sorry, can I help?”

He stared at me with a blank look, then shook his head vigorously.

With a harsh, fiery glare, he venomously whispered, “You can’t do anything.”

My heart ached at his harsh words, but I couldn’t blame him, my selfishness and refusal to think about my brother’s feelings led to immense pain for both of us. I said nothing more, just stared at the joyful puppies littered all over my pajama pants. The chipped paint on the wall behind my brother became something of great interest to him as he picked at it to avoid looking at me. The silence between us was deafening,(Oxymoron) louder than the argument right outside of the closet door. Both of us soon got lost in our own thoughts until the thundering sound(Participle) of a slamming door broke us out of our daze. Soon after another door slammed shut, this time we heard the crack of the old wooden door giving in to the pressure of years of countless arguments. 

Once my brother deemed it safe to leave the closet, he shoved past me to rush into his room, not forgetting to slam the door in my face before quickly locking it. I rushed into my room doing the same, hoping neither of our parents would emerge from their rooms to scold us. I leaped into my bed, pulling my blanket over my head in hopes that it could make me disappear. 

I finally let a lone tear escape(Personification) from the corner of my eye as I thought more and more about how my quivering brother,(Participle) terrified and alone,(Adjectives out of Order) desperately trying to block out the sound of our broken family falling apart. My overstimulated(Participle) brain flooded with thoughts of all the different possible outcomes of that situation  What if I was the one left alone, terrified and helpless? Would he leave me all alone just like I left him? Feeling myself drifting off into a restless sleep, I asked myself, what do I need to do to change my family?

I used to look back at that memory with only feelings of regret, guilt, and bitterness. Now, I can see how that moment helped me develop a sense of selflessness and empathy. My ability to empathize with people along with my desire to care for others selflessly strengthens my relationships with others. I learned so many different things that day and changed in so many different ways after that event. At the time, I didn't know that my change of heart was the change my family needed(Epanalepsis).

[az193689]

Spot the Real Me

I don’t know who I am sometimes. I don't know the difference between the person I present to the world and the self I know. I spent a long time trying to perfect the person I present to the world to be someone everyone would like and feel safe around. I spent so long shaping that person that I lost sight of my inner self. I know I’m putting on a mask, but I don’t know what is behind the mask. 

The self I know and the self I present to the world are muddled together, leaving me confused most days. I know I’m showing the world me, but a modified version of me. There is ADHD Anita bouncing off the walls, scared and anxious Anita hiding in the corner, mom Anita keeping everyone safe, tired Anita napping the day away, daughter Anita, sister Anita, friend Anita, and many more Anitas. Depending on the time, day, people I’m with, place I’m in, and other factors, those different Anitas emerge. They are who I present to the world, but they are also the Anitas I know. They are vastly different, yet they all come together to form me, and I make minimal effort to hide them from the world. However, I mostly show the ADHD side of me. 

I’ve found that ADHD Anita is more entertaining to people. She’s more willing to talk to anyone, says silly phrases like ‘kookoo banana bread’, is friendly and entertaining, makes her friends and family laugh, has unlimited energy, flies her cousin around on her shoulders, is down to do anything (even jumping off of a roof), and is more fun in general. Although ADHD Anita appears to be the Anita most of the world prefers, she still has her flaws. She screams her lungs out for no reason when she wakes up, rants about baths for too long, bakes at one in the morning, loses her phone in the freezer, and spills her chemistry solution twice within fifteen minutes. The world likes her until she is too much. Despite ADHD Anita not giving those perceptions another thought, inner Anita dwells on them at every waking (and occasionally sleeping) moment. 

Inner Anita is composed of the ugliest parts of me from my insecurities and doubts to my shame and mistakes. She is the Anita that creates my internal conflict. She always has something cruel to say about the actions of any of the other Anitas to create inner chaos. Inner Anita sits in her room and ruminates over the words said to the other Anitas. Inner Anita takes every comment made to her worldly persona and filters them to find the ugly. She searches for words that indicate she needs to be better, and if there is no indication of improvement being needed, she makes up her own flaws. She lets her thoughts spiral out of control, turning them into an overwhelming monster that eats her up inside. She believes she is a retched person who needs to be better but is unable to improve. Inner Anita allows the doubts, fear, insecurities, and pain to consume my waking life with constant whispers in my ear and plague my dreams by encasing my mind with her dark vines. Inner Anita is the only Anita present through my lows, thriving off of my misery. When she emerges for the world to view, other Anitas hide her true nature behind self-deprecating jokes and assurances that I’m fine. Inner Anita is the most distinct part of me, but the most defining characteristic about her is that she is always there, waiting to ruin me all over again.

[az193689]

The Chaos of it All

Locked in a glass prison. I’m able to watch my world fall apart, but unable to act. This crystal crown keeps me captive. I escape, but then I’m lost. Traversing through the dark forest of the mind has me wandering in circles. The wind whispers empty promises and destructive lies to lead me astray. Finally, a bridge. The hypnotic light at the end beckons me closer to the way out. But amidst the stars circling above, the ruins of my life are looming, waiting for the perfect moment to come crashing down. In the center of it all: Mei. Beautiful.

[az193689]

Night

There are creatures hidden in the night that you won't ever want to meet, won't ever want to see There are monsters lurking in shadows searching for something pretty to eat 

There are beasts who walk among us, hidden by fake smiles and kind eyes

But in the night, you will see them for who they are

In the night it may seem dark but know that you can see clearer than ever

‘Cause the moon has all the light you need

In the night you aren't blinded by the sun making things seems brighter than they are

In the night true colors start to show

These creatures, monsters, beasts have no place to go

This is something I hope you can believe

Just stay here and trust me the dark is safer than it seems

[az193689]

Oh, the Places I'll Be

I want to be a rock. Mindless. Emotionless. Lifeless. A formidable force prepared to take on any challenge thrown at it. A rock is unphased by the trials of life until the river runs too fast and cuts through the stone until all that’s left is debris of what it once was. A rock is unbreakable until the wind blows too hard and wears away at the allegedly impenetrable surface of the stone. From a boulder to a stone, a stone to a pebble, a pebble to sand on the beach, time catches up with the rock. Maybe I already am a rock, beaten down by the world until I’m nothing but dust in the wind.

I want to be a tree. Sturdy. Unmoving. Steadfast. Firmly rooted in the ground even through the torrential rainfall of the spring, the blazing heat of the summer, the roaring wind of the fall, and the heartless chill of the winter. Through it all, the tree stays upright, adapting to the conditions around it without any hesitation. Filled with rings of proof of its survival throughout the years. No matter how thin or thick the rings, they are still there. Nature is no match for a tree, but the world is. No matter how deep the roots descend, the world will cut it down from the trunk, deaf to the resounding thunk of the once lively tree crashing to the ground, never to grow again. The world will create conditions even the tree cannot escape from as it burns down in a flood of flames, leaving nothing but ash drifting through the smoke filled breeze. Maybe I already am a tree, cut down and burnt out by the world.

I want to be anything but me. Anything to escape the barrage of thundering horse steps in my head. Anything to evade the formidable presence of my surroundings that overpower my senses. The endless white noise of the world does not drown out the chaos in my mind. It only adds to it. The relentless flashing colors of life do not mask the stained walls of my soul. They only serve to further muddle my perception of myself. 

Whether I’m a rock, a tree, or me, all aspects of the universe will be working against me. Even the gravity keeping me tethered to the earth works against me as it compresses my spine and crushes my soul. I’m constantly inundated by the waves of life. It ebbs and flows, but it never stops. Life never stops, not even for the rocks in Stonehenge, the trees in the Amazon, or the girl sitting alone in her room.

[az193689]

Ice Fishing Adventures

Hot chocolate has always been my weakness, but also my strength. It has been my light in the darkest times, but has also been the source of that darkness. It has given me warm happy feelings on the inside, but also made me ice cold (Syntax #1: Antithesis). Hot chocolate was my Achilles’ heel that had been only good to me until an unfortunate incident on a cold winter day in 2010(Allusion Extra: Historical). 

My grandpa has always loved being outside. All of his hobbies are related to the outdoors. He likes photography, hunting, mushroom hunting, bird watching, and fishing. Fishing. Regular fishing can be quite boring when the fish aren't biting, but ice fishing is more than boring. Ice fishing is dangerous. Ice fishing is evil. Ice fishing is my mortal enemy(Syntax #2: Climax and Fig. Lang. #1: Hyperbole). 

Five-year-old Anita was a wild child. She was always fidgeting, getting into trouble and harassing her older brother. She was also very impulsive. Little Anita was the kind of impulsive that would grab a sharp fillet knife to cut out the eyes of a fish just because she wanted to. She was the kind of impulsive that would cause a child to cut up tables, tablecloths and clothes(both hers and her brother’s clothes) because she liked the way scissors cut through fabric(Syntax #3: Parenthesis). She was the kind of impulsive that would twirl in the streets of NYC, nearly giving her aunt a heart attack. She also loved hot chocolate. Hot chocolate held a special kind of power over her. With a promise of hot chocolate, her family could get her to do anything, even go ice fishing on a cold lake. 

The ride to the Big Woods Lake was excruciatingly slow when she knew that hot chocolate was waiting for her at the end of the yellow brick road that was the gravel path to the lake, but it felt like 100 years waiting for her prince charming(Allusion Extras: Historical).

When they arrived at the lake, she jumped out of the car to scream about how much she loved hot chocolate. She deflated like a balloon(Fig. Lang. Extra: Simile) when she found out her grandpa had to set up all the ice fishing equipment and drill the holes before he could get started on the hot chocolate. On the lake he drilled two holes into the ice. Immediately Stephen, her brother, plopped down on the ice and stuck his line in the water, eagerly waiting for a big fish. 

The top of the water hole was still a little shiny on the top. She thought it was so impressive that the lake was so cold that the water refroze instantly. Five-year-old Anita was quite dense, so she figured it would hold her weight. The swirling dark water looked so inviting under that thin layer of ice. It was calling her to step into it (Fig. Lang. #2: Personification). The hole was the perfect size for her boot. It was meant to be/It was destiny. As soon as her boot hit the ice there was the unmistakable audible crack of the ice breaking under the weight of little Anita. Her leg plunged into the ice cold water, water cold enough to make Elsa shiver(Allusion #2: Contemporary-Frozen)  

Her eyes widened like saucers when she felt something latch onto her boot, pulling her further under the ice into the deep dark abyss of cold lake water. She let out a shriek of terror loud enough to make a banshee cover her ears(Allusion #2: Historical-Irish/Celtic Folklore). Her brother refused to leave his spot next to the other fishing hole claiming he had caught the biggest fish ever, but he at least had the decency to call out to their grandpa for help.

Her grandpa finally arrived to rescue her after what felt like hours in Antarctica. When he pulled her out the only thing she could think of was warmth. Her leg was soaked to the bone in icy cold lake water(Fig. Lang. #3: Idiom). He took off her boot to warm her up with his long stocking sock, but he noticed something shiny on the bottom of her boot. Looking closer, he realized it was a fishing hook, and it didn’t take long for him to realize her brother had just lost his “big fish” when she was pulled out of the water. He knew it was time to go home and get little Anita some hot chocolate.

Finally receiving the hot chocolate that had gotten her into this ordeal she vowed that she would never go ice fishing again and would never ever let herself get into another predicament like this no matter how much hot chocolate was offered to her. Unless there were cookies to go with the hot chocolate, then maybe she would consider it.

[az193689]

Baths: The Silent and Disgusting Killer of Fools

Baths are stupid. I don’t know who first thought of a bath and decided it was an effective way to clean oneself. What better way to clean myself than marinating in a porcelain bowl filled with my own dead skin cells and dirt. I would certainly feel refreshed and clean emerging from a bath that redispersed all the grime on my body to different parts of my body. Realistically, no one hops in the tub covered head to toe in mud and blood, unless of course they just came back from slaying a dragon and defending themselves from an ambush of blood thirsty ogres. But nevertheless, it’s still gross. 

During the day, thousands of millions of skin cells are shed from just the outer layer of human skin. Not all of them stay on the skin, instead some blow off by the wind to float aimlessly until they land on another, poor, unfortunate soul who has not the slightest idea that someone else’s dead skin now resides on them. 

Aside from dead skin, there are so many other disgusting organisms that can conglomerate on the surface of a human. For example, bacteria. Bacteria is everywhere. On hands, tables, door knobs, and the box of cocoa puffs on the top shelf of Walmart that you have to jump to reach (not that I know anything about that as a barely five-feet tall child). That’s why I wash my hands. I do not fill the sink with water and then soak my hands in it for an hour. I power blast the millions of bacteria and skin cells living on my skin off and watch them swirl down the drain to meet their demise (at least that’s what I like to believe happens), so why wouldn’t I do the same with my whole body?

A bath is the equivalent of a human soup. I truly believe that baths were invented by cannibals that didn’t have the money or materials to buy a hot tub. They instead opted to follow the DIY route of soaking their food in hot water, rather than boiling it to kill off the germs, because if you’re a cannibal, I highly doubt cleanliness is high on your priority list. Maybe they convinced themselves that the extra germs, skin, and salts added a little flavor, or a little spice. 

Baths are also dangerous. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people die in a bath. You could drown, be electrocuted, crack your head on the side of the tub stepping out of the bath, or even be brutally murdered by an intruder because you spent several, precious seconds clamoring out of the bath rather than using them to escape. Every single outcome would be your fault for being foolish enough to take a bath. 

I can't bring myself to understand why anyone in their right mind would opt to take a bath over a shower to clean themselves, especially considering the risks taking a bath poses. I suppose if everyone was smart, no one would be. Baths are disgusting and dangerous, but I have nothing against those who prefer baths. Afterall, it's their death, not mine.

[az193689]

Holy Mother of Confusing Things

A creative adaptation of “The Holy Mother of Dongling” from Ge Hong, and Robert Ford Company, trans., To Live as Long as Heaven and Earth: A Translation and Study of Ge Hong’s Traditions of Divine Transcendents (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 2002) and “Confusing Similar Things” from Lu Buwei, and John Knoblock and Jeffrey Riegel, trans., The Annals of Lu Buwei: A Complete Translation and Study (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2000). 

A long time ago there was a woman named Zheng Ying. She was no ordinary woman, for she was born with the powers to appear and disappear as she pleased, transform into other beings, hide herself from those who intended to harm her, and heal those with ailments. The power she utilized most often was her ability to heal. She went across all China healing the sick. During her travels she came across Liangjing, a small village filled to the brim with sick people. Never before had she encountered such a large group of people that all needed healing. Men and women, young and old, all suffering from an unknown disease. She went from home to home, healing the children first, then the women, then the men.  

Finally, she made her way to the last family to heal Lin Ming, the son of Lin Chunlian and Lin Jingping. She made her way into their home to assess the condition he was in. She could sense that his sickness had progressed more than most of the others she met. She knelt beside his bed and allowed her healing to wash over him, soft as morning dew on green meadows. As he awoke, he locked eyes with the beautiful woman who cured his ailment—He fell in love instantly. He demanded her hand in marriage and she reluctantly agreed under the condition that he allowed her to continue her healing journeys.  

He adored her compassion. He adored her joy in the mundane. He adored the way she selflessly healed others, despite what it cost her in time. 

He adored her, until he didn’t. Until he resented how much time she spent away from him. Until her relentless positivity annoyed him. Until he grew jealous of her talents. 

Things only grew worse after she bore him a son, Zheng Rong. Ming demanded she stay by his side and raise their son while she insisted people needed her to heal the sick. In a fit of rage, he accused her of forsaking her family due to her neglect of her son and had her imprisoned. While she knew the bars of the jail cell could not hold her there, she remained imprisoned to see her son, her presence being the only thing to protect his mind from the poisonous lies his father spewed of her crimes against their family. 

Many years passed with her imprisoned, seeing her son once a month for only enough time to tell him she loved him. She had learned that a new disease was spreading across the country. She couldn’t stay couped up in her cell when she knew she could do something. In the dead of night while the prison guards slept, she disappeared, leaving behind a single feather pen and a note for her son detailing the reasoning behind her sudden departure. She was never seen again.  

Once he discovered she escaped, Ming turned their village upside down in a desperate attempt to find her, but he came up empty handed. The only evidence of her existence were the people she healed and the tokens she left behind for her son, tokens stolen by Ming, never to leave his pocket and never to be seen by his son. 

Blinded by grief, anger and resentment, Ming turned to alcohol, leaving his young son to fend for himself. The bitterness in both Rong and Ming grew over time—the man’s bitter feelings targeted at the wife who escaped from his grasp and the son’s bitter feelings at the mother who he was told abandoned him and the father who beat him.  

Many years passed after Ying’s departure. Rong was now of working age and spent long hours doing manual labor to make just enough money to feed himself and his father. However, most of the money he made went towards funding his father’s alcoholism.  

One night, Ming was out drinking away his sorrow as he often was. He was returning home from the bars, stumbling into barrels and walls. In a drunken stupor, he caught sight of his former wife. In disbelief he repeatedly blinked to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, but when he looked again he realized it was just his son. He called out to Rong to help him home, but Rong ran away. Unable to chase him in his drunken state, Ming trudged home, his anger toward his son stewing. 

By the time he returned home, he was enraged. Ming demanded his son tell him why he abandoned him on the streets. Annoyed, Rong repeatedly explained that he had been working all day, but his father kept insisting that he encountered him in the streets several minutes prior. Rong saw his chance to rid himself of his father forever and seized his opportunity. Rong convinced his father that what he saw on the street was a demon and all Ming needed to do to rid himself of the demon was get drunk again and talk to the demon disguised as his son. Ming eagerly listened to his son and decided to follow through with the plan, but with his own changes. He decided he would kill the demon rather than talk to it. 

The next day, Ming did exactly as his son told him to do--he went out and drank all day and into the night. He stumbled down the same street hoping to catch a glimpse of the demon that assumed his son’s identity. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadowy figure move. Ming gripped the hilt of his knife and called out his son’s name, hoping to get the demon to reveal itself. Rong emerged from the shadows with his knife glinting in the moonlight. They both lunged at each other and stabbed each other in the chest. They both fell to the ground clutching their wounds.  

It was at this time that Ying revealed herself as the being hiding in the shadows. She rushed to her son’s side, desperately trying to heal him before he bled out. The man gasped upon seeing his wife after so many years as his blood spilled out of his mouth. His blood bubbled out of his mouth and back into his throat, filling his lungs, drowning him in his own blood. 

Ying spared no attention to her lifeless husband lying next to her as she put all her energy into healing her son. Relieved to see her son breathing again, she quickly explained the circumstances that led up to her leaving. Rong was still skeptical until she pulled out the note and pen from Ming’s pocket. Looking at her, Rong could see the sincerity in his mother’s eyes and chose to believe her.  

Then, with a smile bright enough to shine through the darkness that had plagued his life, Rong grabbed the knife from his father’s limp hand and stabbed his mother in the chest. It seemed only fitting he stab her in the heart after she broke his so many years ago.  

[az193689]

Watery Vengeance

A creative adaptation of “Li Jing the Demigod” from Zhang Guangqian, trans., Into the Porcelain Pillow: 101 Tales from Records of the Taiping Era. (Beijing:Foreign Language Press, 1998) and “Spitting Water” from Pu Songling, and John Minford, trans., Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (New York: Penguin, 2006).  

During the Tang Dynasty, there was a renowned general called Li Jing. Late at night after an intense battle, Li Jing found himself separated from his men. He was left wandering the woods, lost. Far ahead in the distance, he spotted a light. As he came closer, he realized the light belonged to an extravagant mansion. Tired from his travels, he decided to seek refuge with the owners of the mansion.  

Immediately after he knocked, the door swung open, and he was face to face with a weary looking woman in her twenties. Li Jing explained his situation to her. She contemplated his request for a moment before explaining she would need to talk to the woman of the house because her husband was out on official duties. The maid, Lu Fei, explained the situation to the sisters, Zheng Mei En and Zheng Li Ying. Together they decided they couldn’t leave Li Jing defenseless out in the woods and let him in despite the man of the house being out.    

Not long after they let him in, word reached the sisters that the drought in the nearby village had reached a point where the crops were dying and people’s livelihoods were being impacted. Unable to send rainfall themselves because they had to watch over the house as the women of the house, they weighed their options: let the people suffer during the drought even more until the men came home to bring rain to the village or do it themselves and risk the estate falling apart if they left and being severely punished. Li Jing overheard their dilemma and decided he would do them a favor and offer himself to bring rainfall to the village. He claimed that he had won many battles, so bringing rain fall was nothing in comparison. The two sisters were still reluctant but eventually caved after Li Jing reassured them that he was capable and they had no other options. The maid, Lu Fei, was skeptical and objected to sending a strange man who couldn’t even find his way home to help the village--but the sisters insisted it had to be done that night. Lu Fei begrudgingly set up a dragon for Li Jing to ride on to bring rain to the village. Mei En gave him a vial of what looked to be water and instructed him to pour out one drop. She heavily emphasized that pouring out any more than one drop would result in disaster. Li Jing promised he would do what they said and took to the sky. 

Once he saw the village, Li Jing observed that the drought looked worse than described and decided he knew better than the women who had been doing their job for years –He poured out 20 drops. Upon returning to the mansion, he boastfully mansplained to the sisters that the drought was worse than they thought, so he took matters into his own hands and poured out twenty drops rather than the one drop they told him to. Each drop equated to a foot of rainfall.  

At first the people of the village celebrated, grateful that the dragons had not forsaken them in their time of need. However, their celebratory cries soon turned to cries of suffering as the rainfall grew stronger, showing no signs of stopping. Fields flooded, houses were swept away as the village in the valley resembled a river more than a town. All the inhabitants in the village fell victim to the water and drowned. Among the drowned was a young woman by the name of Wang Yi. 

Since the tragic passing of many in the village flooded by Li Jing, the sisters and their maid found themselves plagued with nightmares of all those who had died. One night, four years after the tragedy, all three women experienced the same dream. A young woman no older than twenty with striking, icy blue eyes that held an endless, profound amount of contempt. Her jet black hair was streaked with white as though she had aged several decades in mere minutes. Her hair was stringy, dripping with water. Her clothes were drenched. She danced around the yard, frequently letting out gargled screams, desperate and painful. The dream concluded with the woman whipping her head around to make direct eye contact, saying “It’s your fault”, and rushing up to them—then they wake up. They all come to the common area and discuss what they saw and they hear gurgling from outside as if someone was drowning. They looked out the window and saw exactly what they saw in the dream. The woman said the same thing and rushed up to them in a blink of an eye and sprayed them with water.  

A pounding pain in her lungs and head brought Mei En to her knees in pain. The pain and pressure built up until her head burst open. Nothing could be seen in her head except for a pool of water. Not long after her head burst, her chest did the same, water leaking from the wound. 

Li Ying’s lungs and stomach filled with blood. The sheer volume of blood distended her abdomen, then crept up her esophagus and dribbled out of her mouth as the blood in her lungs did the same in her esophagus. She tried with no avail to cough the blood out as she asphyxiated on her own blood for several minutes before her organs shut down and she went brain dead. Her heart pumped one last time before combusting in her chest, leaving a gaping hole in her flesh from which water poured out of.  

Lu Fei watched in horror as the two sisters met their gruesome demise and turned to run away from the gore. In an instant, she felt all the air leave her lungs clutched her chest and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Dark spots flooded her vision, growing until the combined into complete darkness. She fell to the ground letting out shallow breaths. 

People came and found them. The husband let out a sound of pure agony that would remain ingrained in the minds of all who heard it as his own grief penetrated their souls. They found the maid alive and woke her up. The maid told them what happened and the dream of the woman that was from the village. The husband spent days excavating/ripping apart the village in search of the woman who ruined his life. At the very edge of the village, he found the woman’s corpse. Her skin was sloughing off, exposing the rotten flesh of her decomposing body. The only hint that she was the woman from that night were her icy blue eyes. Blinded by rage the man took his shovel and struck her corpse with a force equal to the grief and anger he felt. Upon impact, the woman’s body immediately turned into water, maintaining her human form for a few seconds before splashing down into the ground below. The ground the water touched turned into a deep pit of water. It deepened more and more,  swallowing up the husband and the remains of the village.  

The river was all that remained. 

[az193689]

The Cost of Distance

A contemporary adaptation of “The Chaste Wife of Qiu Liu” from Anne Behnke Kinney  (translator), Exemplary Women of Early China: The Lienü zhuan of Liu Xiang (New York:  Columbia University Press, 2014) 

Newlyweds, Wendy and Kevin, found themselves in a less than ideal situation when not even a week after their wedding Kevin took a promotion that required him to move from America to Singapore. For the next five years, Kevin spent his time building his life in Singapore while Wendy tended to his mother and worked part time in America. As time passed, Kevin communicated less and less frequently with his wife until they were practically strangers, forgetting what each other looked like as their faces matured and their appearances changed. 

Five years later, Kevin was transferred back to America. Shortly after his plane landed, he took his rental car and drove home. When he stopped at a gas station, he found the gas station attendant to be attractive and lingered in the station, attempting to flirt with her. Disinterested, she didn’t respond to any of his words. Taking notice of her disinterest, he attempted to gain her favor by offering to take her on a date. Offended, she angrily exclaimed that she worked hard at her job and at home to take care of her family. She didn’t want his money. The only thing she wanted was for him to leave her alone. Dejected and embarrassed, Kevin left the gas station and made his way back home. 

Upon arriving home, he was met by his mother and offered her expensive jewelry as gift. Noticing the absence of his wife, he asked his mother where his wife was. When she told him Wendy worked late into the night to make money for the family, he decided to stay up waiting for her to come back like a good husband would. When she arrived, he found himself face to face with the gas station attendant from earlier. He was mortified, and she was furious scolding him for his behavior in the gas station. She told him that after five years of not seeing his family, he should’ve eagerly returned home rather than try to trying to get with another woman while his family were anxiously waiting for him to return. As a result of his egregious actions against their family, she didn't want to remain married to a man as immoral, unfaithful, and disloyal as him. She ended her speech by telling him that her divorce lawyer would be in contact with him shortly and all communication between the two parties would be through their lawyers because she never wanted to see his face again. She then left and was never seen again. 

Some people would focus on the wife’s devotion to her husband and family while others would focus on the husband’s shallowness and unfaithful actions toward his wife. The observant one would take note of both their traits and the contrast they provide. Facebook user, fakeaccountforclass22, would say “Wendy was a good woman married to an immoral man. In the end, her good nature could not/did not allow her to remain in the presence of immorality as it would be akin to remaining in a room full of poisonous gas”.    

[az193689]

Hunting the Hunters

Hunting the Hunters 

A horrific adaptation of “How the Hunters’ Mother Became an Oni and Tried to Devour Her Children” from Marian Ury(translator), Tales of Time Now Past:Sixty-Two Stories from a Medieval Japanese Collection (Berkeley University of California Press, 1979)  

Adrenaline coursed through Sarah’s veins as she ran through the woods. Leaves crunched under her feet, but all she could hear was the blood rushing in her head. Branches poking up from the ground scratched her ankles and rocks dug into her bare feet, but she couldn’t stop running, not when she was so close to freedom. The opening of the woods was so close. All she had to do was make it out and she would be safe. She was just inches away from making it out when something snapped around her ankle. Metal teeth dug into her flesh, piercing her bone as she let out a silent scream of agony. Tears cascaded down her face as she tried to crawl out of the woods, determined to make it out alive. Not a moment later, a shadow was cast over her. She looked up at the men with tears in her eyes, silently pleading for them to let her go. The two men looked at each other momentarily before one took his knife and plunged it deep into her stomach and her world went dark. 

The morning sun peeked over the hills and illuminated a small house in the woods. Inside the house one could find two devout sons, Jack and Stephen, caring for their mother, Annabelle, who was rapidly deteriorating in health. She was so close to death that most of her days were spent bedridden waiting for her sons to come back from hunting.  

On the last day of the month, the brothers would have a special night long hunt. In preparation for their hunt, they would go out the week before and find what they deemed to be the perfect prey.  

As usual, they staked out the road for women whose cars had broken down. They weren’t looking for just any woman. She needed to be young and fit enough to run from them the whole night. She needed to be someone like Sarah. Sarah was clearly a runner and could put up a fight, as displayed by her resistance when they found her. She clawed at the men, screamed for help, and desperately tried to get out of their hold, but she was easily overpowered. It wasn’t difficult for Stephen to gain the upper hand despite her attempts to fight back, especially with the help of Jack.  

With her subdued, they brought her to the shed behind their house and tied her up as they prepared for the hunt.  

The brothers were generous when it came to hunting her. They gave her water and food and gave her an adequate head start. After all, it wasn’t fun when it was easy.  

Stephen sat perched in the tree, looking across the forest, trying to spot any sign of movement from Sarah that would give away where she was hiding. He enjoyed the smart ones. They made the night so much more fun than the boring ones that wouldn’t play along and just begged for their life. 

In the eerie silence of the forest, Stephen heard the unmistakable sound of clanging metal followed by a scream of pain. He smiled as he made his way towards the sound.  

He reached her bruised and bloody body moments later. Jack was already waiting there for him, his eyes filled with amusement as he watched her try to crawl away from them. He handed Stephen the knife. It was only fair since Stephen was the one who spotted Sarah on the road. Stephen knelt down on the ground and grabbed Sarah’s leg, dragging her mangled body towards him. He lifted his knife and plunged it into her stomach. Stephen lifted his arm, ready to stab again when a hand shot down from the branches above and grabbed his throat, lifting him into the low hanging branches. The feeling of the sharp teeth digging into his arm made him feel as though all the nerves in his arm were on fire. The monster dug its teeth deeper into his arm before ripping out a large chunk. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. As the monster made its way to the other parts of his body, ripping him apart with her teeth and hands, he let out a guttural cry of pure agony. 

From the ground several feet away, Jack couldn’t see anything that was happening in the trees--he could only hear the distressed screams of his brother and the sounds of skin tearing and bones breaking. Panicked, he notched an arrow and shot blindly into the trees. A shrill scream resounded throughout the forest followed by a heaving thud of a body hitting the ground. Jack rushed to the base of the tree to help his brother. Jack blindly reached out to grab his brother and made contact with a hand. He pulled as hard as he could hoping to pull John up from the ground, but only the hand came with him when he pulled. Horrified, Jack looked down again at his brother. As his eyes adjusted, he realized his brother was no longer recognizable as anything other than a pile of dismembered body parts and bones. Jack backed away in horror, frantically looking around the forest to catch a glimpse of the creature that mutilated his brother. He looked back down at the withered hand he was still holding. In the moonlight he could make out a ring on the ring finger of the hand. Recognizing the ring, he ran back to the house, still clutching the hand adorned with the stolen ring of his mother, concerned that the monster had gotten to her, desperately hoping she hadn’t suffered the same fate as Stephen. 

Jack reached the house and locked the door behind him. He went to the window to see if he could spot whoever was chasing him, but he saw no one. The moonlight peeking through the window shone directly onto the severed hand Jack still held onto. In the moonlight, Jack could clearly see the glint of the diamond ring passed down through his mother’s side of the family. Upon confirmation that it was indeed his mother’s ring, he dropped the hand, running to her room. He swung open the door to find her bed empty and her window wide open. Before he could think of what to do next, a bony, withered hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the room. 

The next day the police searched the forest where Sarah said she escaped from her captors. They stumbled upon a small three-bedroom house in the middle of the woods that looked like people had been living there. Upon investigation they discovered the mutilated bodies of two men on the floor. One of the men looked like he had been attacked by a wild animal. Chunks of flesh were missing from all over his body. They finally made their way into the last bedroom and found an old woman lying peacefully in a bed. Unsure if she was alive or not, a detective pulled back the covers to see if she was breathing. She seemed fine other than a missing left hand that was found lying on the dresser next to her was a severed hand. 

[bookofademigod]

MASTER POST OF THE TARGET EMPIRE OF STORMS SHORT STORY

again. enjoy the story. 

Keep reading

[aelin-and-feyre]

Me: *is grumpy*

Me: It's been more than a week since you read Chapter 28 of Queen of Shadows

Me: *reads it*

Me: *isn't grumpy anymore*

[studyingisfortheweekend-blog]

Alternatives for 25 overused words in writing

1. Interesting- note worthy; thought-provoking; fascinating; attracting; appealing; attention-grabbing; captivating; gripping; invigorating; engrossing; engaging; electrifying.  

2. Beautiful- striking; stunning; magnificent; lovely; charming; gorgeous; radiant; dazzling.

3. Good- acceptable, wonderful, exceptional; positive; brilliant; first-rate; notable; stellar; favorable; superb; marvellous; prime.

4. Bad- awful; lousy; poor; unacceptable; crummy; dreadful; rough; inferior; substandard; atrocious; appalling; dreadful; defective.

5. Look- glance; fixate; observe; stare; gaze; peer; scan; watch; study; browse; eye; glimpse; review; inspect.

6. Nice- lovely; superior; pleasant; satisfying; delightful; likeable; agreeable; correct; adequate; swell; fair; okay; approved.

7. Very- extremely; exceedingly; exceptionally; immensely; tremendously; abundantly; particularly; remarkably.

8. Fine- satisfactory; worthy; respectable; exquisite; suitable; well; imposing; decent; admirable; praise-worthy; decent.

9. Happy- cheerful; delighted; pleased; content; amused; thrilled; elated; thrilled; ecstatic; on cloud 9. 

10. Really- genuinely; truly; honestly; actually; undoubtedly; certainly; remarkably; incredibly; downright; unquestionably; extremely.

11. Sad- miserable; gloomy; devastated; down at heard; distraught; distressed; dispirited; sorrowful; downcast; feeling blue; desolate.

12. Big- massive; huge; giant; gigantic; enormous; large; colossal; immense; bulky; tremendous; hefty; sizable; extensive; great; substantial. 

13. Shocked- taken aback; lost for words; flabbergasted; staggered; outraged; astonished; astounded; stunned; speechless; appalled.

14. Small- tiny; petite; mini; miniature; microscopic; minuscule; compact; pocket-sized; cramped; puny; undersized; limited; meager; modest; minute; pint-sized. 

15. Angry- irate; enraged; touchy; cross; resentful; indignant; infuriated; wound-up; worked-up; seething; raging; heated; bitter; bad-tempered; offended; frustrated. 

16. Know- understand; comprehend; realize; learn; perceive; recognize; grasp; sense.

17. Change- alter; transform; replace; diversify; adjust; adapt; modify; remodel; vary; evolve; transfigure; redesign; refashion; advance; transition; shift; adjustment.

18. Old- aged; ancient; matured; elderly; senior; veteran; decrepit; seasoned; venerable; past one’s prime; doddering; senile.

19. Think- ponder; reflect; conceive; imagine; contemplate; consider; determine; realize; visualize; guess/assume; conclude; envision. 

20. Funny- comical; ludicrous; amusing; droll; entertaining; absurd; hilarious; silly; whimsical; hysterical; joking; witty; facetious; slapstick; side-splitting; knee-slapping.

21. Go- move; proceed; advance; progress; travel; walk; journey; depart; exit; flee; make one’s way; clear out; get underway.

22. Give- grant; donate; hand-out; present; provide; deliver; hand over; offer; award; bestow; supply with; contribute to; send; entrust.

23. Get- acquire; obtain; receive; gain; earn; gather; collect; buy; purchase; attain; score; secure; take possession of; grab.

24. Easy- effortless; simple; clear; smooth; straightforward; uncomplicated; painless; accessible; apparent; basic; plain; child’s play; facile; elementary; cinch. 

25. Fast- agile; brisk; rapid; nimble; swift; accelerated; fleeting; high-speed; active; dashing; winged; hurried; turbo. 

[a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby]

I snorted to hard I started coughing

[blessed-fireheart]

“There is nothing I can give you. Nothing I want to give you. You are not owed an explanation for what I do outside of training. I don’t care what you have been through or what you want to do with your life. The sooner you sort out your whining and self-pity the sooner I can be rid of you. You are nothing to me and I do not care.” -Heir of Fire, chapter 33

“I love you. There is no limits to what I can give you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between stars, I will love you.” -Empire of Storms, chapter 38

ROWAN WHITETHORN EVERYBODY.

[aelin-and-feyre]

Me: *is grumpy*

Me: It's been more than a week since you read Chapter 28 of Queen of Shadows

Me: *reads it*

Me: *isn't grumpy anymore*