Mike Driver
shark vs the universe
will byers stan first human second
oozey mess
Jules of Nature
No title available
pixel skylines
todays bird
gracie abrams
★
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Love Begins
taylor price
YOU ARE THE REASON
noise dept.
Kiana Khansmith
JVL
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available
𓃗
seen from Canada
seen from Japan
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from Australia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
@crochetlaydee
Check out my profile on Wattpad, I'm thesimplaydee https://www.wattpad.com/thesimplaydee?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile Hi! I'm an aspiring creative writer looking to boost my repertoire of works. My works are all free to the reader's interpretation and constructive criticisms are more than welcome! :D
Anticipation
Monty had always hated herself; after all, she was a genius. They found she could spell fantastically, but she hated long words with passion, right down to their little aggravating syllables.
They’re why she ended up where she was at the current moment: standing in a wobbly line made of little snickering, blindfolded brats who were all buzzing positively, eager to put their peers to shame by showing how smart they were. Monty couldn’t share their sentiment. Peeking from her blindfold, she counted the number of bodies in front of her; 6 did not ease her mind.
“Subject 821-3-4559. Come forward. Your word is…optimistic,” echoed a gruff, baritone voice. The chatter hushed for a moment. It had started.
“Optimistic”, a chipper voice had started, “O-P-T-A-.”
A click. A sizzling buzz. A light thud. A shuffle forward. The chatter continues.
Monty’s body shook in aggravation as her clenched, white-knuckled hands grasped the tingly, wooden chair. This situation wasn’t fair. It was so unfair to Monty that it sent shivers shimmying all way to her gut. She took a deep breath. She had decided.
“Next,” barked a roughish voice, “Subject 129-7-2336. Step forward. Your word is…inquisitive.”
Monty trudged towards the chair. There was no repulsion for the knowledge she was unfairly expected to possess. No trace of fear as she imagined the frightening scowl she’d get by those greedy mongers who drilled their inconceivable hopes onto her. There was no remorse for those who were neglected for being failures. Instead, there was hope.
“Inquisitive.”, she quipped with a lisp.
“I-N-Q-U-I-S-I-T-I-V- “, she paused.
A brilliance of hope shined on their faces! Perhaps they wouldn’t have to give up their research! For they had truly found an intellect they could mold and press into whatever they wanted! They leaned forward, anticipating.
Monty sank their hopes.
“-H.”, she finished with a sly sneer as their flames of greed were instantly doused.
“Well, that’s certainly a shame. Another failure...,” they collectively dismissed as they sighed in disappointment. “Next!”
A click. A sizzling buzz. A resounding silence. A light thud. A shuffle forward. The chatter continues.
Bathroom Break
3:30am.
Jamie’s phone buzzed as she slugged forward out of her bed, lazily blinking away the drowsiness in her eyes. Her instincts called her to the fated spot where even the mightiest and bravest of hardened soldiers and warriors showed their weakness: the bathroom.
Grabbing her phone, Jamie trudged forward with quickness as her legs tensed. And so, there she sat, huddled over the marble white bowl as relief washed over her in gallons. She looked at the time once more before checking some random messages.
3:33am.
As she sat, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror that hung over her small sink, tilting her head left and right as her body dragged out its business. She sluggishly blinked. One, two, three. She saw the fourth blink as her hand fumbled for the toilet paper.
She froze. The lights flickered. Locking eyes with it, a pressing dread enveloped her mind as a sudden bout of stillness paralyzed her while she sat half clothed. A shatter here and a few glassy, bloody steps there. She’s standing in front of herself.
It held an uncanny resemblance to Jamie as she trepidatiously abhorred it. The only difference Jamie noticed was where the blood stemmed from. For it, it was the gaping gash from glass slicing through its ghoulish skin. For Jamie, it was the gaping hole made from that same glass that pierced her neck.
Jamie startled awake with an electrifying shock as her hands clutched her neck. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead as she shuddered in relief. She couldn’t exactly remember what she was relieved from though. She had an inkling that it was a weird, freakish dream, but then her bright screen lit up her face in the navy darkness of her room; the inkling was gone.
3:30am.
Slugging from the bed, Jamie dragged herself to the bathroom and plopped down with a start. She found herself entranced by her strangely large mirror. She unlocked her phone to watch some quick cat videos.
3:33am.
In the mirror, she quickly blinked once, twice, and then thrice. She saw the fourth blink as her hand fumbled around for toilet paper. She froze. She remembered what her weird dream was about. The lights flickered.
Dedication
Mornings were Theora’s favorite! They were the start of a new day when she could see her beloved. He rose gloriously out of his bed, heading to the bathroom while closing the door behind him. As Theora’s clock struck 8:45am, she watched him bolt out the door, snagging his fingers onto his backpack and phone, and down the sidewalk he went. She flew after him.
As the classrooms were in sight, the bell chimed for the start of class. Theora dazed over the figure of her crush as time became a stingy blur; the sunrise became sunset, and the classrooms turned into a soccer field framed by dusty bleachers and grassy hills.
As he shouted in victory with his soccer teammates, the myriad sky gorgeously reflected in his honey-colored eyes. Truly, it was a sight for Theora to behold, and indeed she did in the shadows behind the bleachers.
Night fell before Theora. The streetlamps flickered with caution in the silence. She was still new to this type of thing. Still, she loved him too much to be away from him for so long. She needed to get closer.
She climbed a tree here, unhooked a latch there, and then she stood at the place in her recurring, blissful dreams. His bedside. She hovered over him, not letting the film roll touch his face as she took in his ethereal glow through the tinted lens.
Tiptoeing to his small bathroom, Theora found a bin of treasures! A rotten, half-eaten apple that still had his teeth marks!
“How irresistible!”, Theora quietly rejoiced as she beheld the national treasure in her hand.
Pulling a few maggots out the apple, shivers of delight crawled over her body as she tenderly licked and nibbled on the brown skin. Even better, she found his baby blue toothbrush! She passionately slurped it, hoping to share an indirect kiss with him. She plopped the treasures in her satchel with the photos.
A chirp broke through the silence as a subtle light invaded the room. Time, the stingy fellow, once again stole her joy as her film was ejected from the recorder. She emerged from the dark corner by his clothing rack. She hooked a latch here, climbed down a tree there, and darted across the street to her cozy little home. What a joyous night it was for Theora!
Skipping past her two cats who hadn’t eaten in days, she placed her new treasures with the others from her previous escapades. Sinking in bed, she wondered if he knew he existed just for her. She loved him so much, and she eagerly wanted to tell him. It would be okay if he didn’t know though. He would soon.
Collateral Damage
In a slummy warehouse disconnected from the rest of the bustling district stood a young man of twenty-five years of age. He had found himself in a rather peculiar situation that night; the temptation of luxury was much too sweet to resist.
In front of him was indeed a tricky situation: a suitcase filled with undiscovered treasures that could free him of his stresses and a fleshy child, a tender twelve years of age and the reason of his tossing and turning, shivering in a wettish puddle with a sharp metal muzzled against her head. A heavy tension suffocated the atmosphere as the plea of sheer desperation made her honey brown eyes quake.
Despite this, the young man could only stifle in hesitation. He mulled over the times back when he left his meal to the worthless thing in front of him and starved for a full five days until a butcher took pity on his shriveled form and tossed him week-old expired ham. He thought of the times when goons dressed him with agonizing bruises and threatened him for refusing to relinquish those few sheets of paper, which he obviously didn’t have. He recounted the sleepless nights when, after the worthless thing had finally drifted to slumber, he’d huddle in the corner of their little alley, trying to remember the proper way to tie the knot for the noose his wife used to escape the debt. His mind halted.
The young man refused to witness the consequences of his decision, knowing they’d make his joys taste so bittersweet. With a swift sweep, he latched the suitcase under his dirt-cased fingers as he gazed at the quivering, snot-nosed child who gaped in utter disbelief.
“Who cares if it dies,” he grimaced with a penetrating sneer. He turned towards the exit illuminated by the bright moonlight.
He took a step forward, and the guilt eroded. A muffled, broken wail of agony pieced the silence as a desperate shuffle squirmed its way towards the back of the young man. He kept his stride faced forward with no halts. No sooner than when he stepped outside with the new taste of a future filled with the luxury of three meals a day were the shuffles silenced with a fleshy thump echoing through the silence as the crisp scent of iron permeated the air.