Insane or Confused maybe both

[fallencolonistva]

Friends out here saying their writing is shit. I told em to take pride in it, then they have the GALL to suggest I. A barely sentient creature. Can do better, cause I, a cretin with NO regard for quality control, ZERO care for adherence to grammar, and a REFUSAL to learn formats my studies do not require, voice act.

VILE

To prove my point i will be posting my "works" in recent history.

NONE ARE FROM WITHIN THE LAST 3 YEARS.

IF THIS IS YOUR STANDARD THEN I PITY YOUR POOR SOUL!

[nooruk]

[writing-prompt-s]

Aw, what's wrong, little mouse? Can't handle a little roughousing? That's pathetic, you're so... oh. Oh, that's- that doesn't look good actually. Are you okay? Ooh, that looks really bad. Here, let me look at it. Oh, come on, don't be like that, let me look at it.

[itsapmseymour]

Retain this message as a response to anyone who tries to give you severe lip on the creative media you enjoy

"If you let fiction affect you this badly, maybe you're the problem. Not fiction."

[ariesrin]

Writing tips: He said, she said...

Readers don't tend to notice 'said', while it's there in the sentence, it doesn't give the sentence any life. It gets the job done, mostly...

Here are some options to try!

whispered / muttered / mumbled → soft or secretive

shouted / yelled / barked → anger, urgency

growled / hissed → danger, teasing, frustration

murmured / breathed → intimacy, vulnerability

snapped / barked / snapped back → irritation, defensiveness

laughed / chuckled / giggled → laughing, fun, playful or flirty

asked / questioned / queried / inquired → curiosity, questioning

demanded / insisted → authority or control

sighed / groaned → fatigue, exasperation, longing

When you're looking to replace said, think about why. You'll generally want to do this when you need the following:

when the tone of the line needs more context.

when you want to show emotion instead of telling it.

when your character’s body language, action, or expression can do the talking instead.

Take a look at the scene you're writing, is the character saying their line? Or are they yelling it? Screaming it? Are they enraged, or perhaps is their voice a broken whisper from grief?

That being said, you shouldn't always avoid using 'said.' It's easy to read in long sentences, and it keeps the focus on the dialogue rather than the rest of the scenes. That may be beneficial and a key component to parts of your story.

[promptcalender]

Uncommon Words / Phrases to be Inspired by

Absquatulate: to leave without saying goodbye

Cassandra Complex: a psychological penomenon in which someone's accurate prediction of a crisis is ignored or dismissed

Cicatrize: to find healing by the process of forming scars

Even a Worm will turn: the belief that even the most docile creature will retaliate if pushed too far

Fernweh: the ache for distant places; the urge to leave everything familiar behind

Hamartia: a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero

Hiraeth: homesickness for a home you can never return to

Ichor: a fluid that flows like blood in the veins of gods

Jester's Privilege: the ability and right of a jester to mock his king without fear of punishment, for nothing he says seems to matter

Lachesism: longing for the clarity that comes with living through a disaster

Lotus-Eater: a person who lives their life in a constant state of dream and fantasy

Novalunosis: the state of relaxation and wonder experienced while gazing up at the stars

Pyrrhic Victory: a victory with such devastating consequence and collateral that is becomes a 'hollow victory'

Swan Song: a final act or effort given just before death

Wanderlust: a strong desire to wander and explore the world free from any obligation

Weltschmerz: the pain that comes with the realisation that the material world will never satisfy the demands of the soul

Whistle in the Dark: to make a show of bravery despite one's fear

Yhprum's Law: 'everything that can go right will go right'

[Prompt Calender: January 9th, National Word Nerd Day]

[creativepromptsforwriting]

How to show emotions

Part X

How to show pleasure

dilated pupils

mouth half opened

increased heart rate

increased breath rate

increased blood flow

heightened sensitivity

body parts turning warm and flushed

body parts becoming engorged or wet

tension in the entire body

trembling

involuntary contractions

hard to speak, but incapable to be quiet

How to show tenderness

sincere, warm, and open smile

slow and soft movements

leaning in towards what they feel tender about

listening carefully, head held towards them

gentle tone of voice

softening of facial expressions

relaxed eyebrows

soft and relaxed eyes

a hint of a tear appearing

relaxed mouth with a little smile

gently touching or stroking who or what they feel tender about

calm breathing, not too shallow, not too deep

How to show guilt

avoiding eye contact or looking down

tightness in the shoulders, neck, and jaw

being hunched over, slumped shoulders, making themself small

turning their body away from who they feel guilty towards

sweaty palms

trembling hands

heart racing

fidgeting with their entire body

crossing and uncrossing one’s legs

shifting from one foot to the other

pacing around

knot in the stomache, not being able to eat or eating too much to compensate

a feeling of heaviness in their body

How to show curiosity

open, dilated eyes

holding eye contact

raised eyebrows

tilting of the head

leaning towards what they find curious

mouth slightly open

uncrossed arms

actively listening

holding still, so they don't miss anything

More: How to write emotions Masterpost

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[isabellebissonrouthier]

WRITING PROMPTS - Alive

Zombies are sentient in their minds, but can't control their bodies.

"Are you... alive?"

Most people, when they're born, are empty bodies that act human but have no thoughts within them.

"When did I die? When did I die? When did I die? When did I die? When did I die? When did I die? When did I die?"

Every corpse is alive, but paralysed.

"Don't die on me now, bitch."

It becomes illegal to die.

"Can you live? For me?"

[fallencolonistva]

Some remnant of an old project i was working on in College

TLDR: It was originally supposed to be a comic strip, story thing to be done as a group project in an art class. Things fell through so, didn't go anywhere. My part was making the story for the "Mid-section" of the story. It was a story about folklore and a little thought experiment and how stuff would have interacted with other cultures. It is pop-culture version of the wendigo mostly, while attempting to stay true to the actually story (i think? it's been a bit) It's a rush job in every sense of the word.

The Ringmaster Cyrus had been waiting with increasing impatience by the docks of Manhattan for the better part of two and a half hours now. He had paid the captain and the crew of the M.S Providence, a transport ship able to cross the open ocean, quite handsomely  to not only allow for the boarding of his vessel from the personnel of the traveling circus, Miraculous Wonders, but as well as the secure transport of the multitude of the circus, especially the “animals.” The crew of Providence and the personnel from the circus had hauled and loaded just about everything by the time the prized exhibit finally arrived from (Where group one found the Wendigo). The ship’s captain, a young and adventurous man by the name of Nathanial Roe, inquired what was so important that they had to be delayed from leaving port for an extra hour, eyeing the covered cage with intrigue. The Ringmaster assured him it was one of the most prized animals of the circus and only answered vaguely about what it was, leaving much to the imagination.

Allowing this specific specimen on the M.S. Providence would prove to be a very dangerous error on the part of the Captain. Members of the circus seemed just as blissfully unaware of the nature of the concealed beast as they put the cage deep within the belly of the cargo hold. After concluding the deal with the Hunters who had brought the to the docks, the ship set sail for the Circus’s next stop on their world tour, Kuwait. While the ship was in transit, rumors spread around the crew of the Providence, suspecting that something was incredibly wrong with the way the Circus had gone about securing voyage across the ponds. A deep, sinking feeling slowly infesting the crew as they became restless, some believing they heard voices in the Cargo hold despite them specifically told not to get near the circus property so as to not endanger the animals. The circus personnel were also a bit nervous as well. The more superstitious among them claiming that something evil was on board. The Ringmaster worked tirelessly to squash these rumors before they had chance to spark dangerous intrigue, hand picking two people, Damian Pride (our would be seller) and Eliza Simmons, to take care of the animals in the cargo hold while they were in transit. The ringmaster told them just enough to warn them of the potential danger one of these animals possessed, but not enough for them to know for sure which animal he was referring to.

Damian was taking decidedly long to come to the hold as he had some sea sickness, so Eliza ventured without him, a mistake that would prove to be fatal. As she was feeding the animals she pause before the covered cage, her instincts filling her with a fight or flight response for reasons yet unknown as she approached the mysterious trap cautiously. Inside, as she was grabbing the raw red meat with gloved hands he heard the voice of Damian. Stepping closer she was mortified to learn that Damian, who sounded incredibly off, something she attributed to sea sickness, was inside the cage. She called out to him and hurried to the cage, wanting to ensure the safety of her coworker. Inside the cage, something malignant stirred, woken by the sounds of movement and scent of fresh meat. It called to her, asking her to come help him. As she lifted the tarp she barely had a chance to scream as a clawed hand reaches through the bars and grabbed her. Her scream cut short, just when she had taken the sharp breath, her final words being “You’re not Damian…”

Damian would come down to a gruesome scene. Carrying a tranquilizer in the event of a rowdy animal. The hold reeked of blood and a stench he could only attribute to the scent of sewage or something similar. The other animals were dead silent, filling the cargo hold with a heavy silence that only intensified the sound of crunching and wet squelching.  As he found the abandoned bucket her Eliza his eyes widened in horror, the nausea from the ships rocks intensified tenfold as he failed to hold his lunch. Unable to witness the gruesome scene in front of him. A pool of blood around the edge of the cage, and a dismembered arm of his former coworker being dragged into the depths of the cage, where the source of the horrifically sloppy eating sounds came from. When, all at once, it paused. And from the cage he heard her voice call to him. “Damian..? Are you…ok?” all as an eyeball gently rolled out the cage. A fear unlike that he had ever known had taken him as he watched a clawed and bloodied hand come into the light. Shining a light into the cage the foul thing recoiled, hunched over the mutilated and half eaten corpse of what used to be Eliza. Her body mangled and torn to ribbons, with even bones being cracked and partially missing, consumed by the wretched beast. The starved thing let loose an unearthly shriek as he dropped the flashlight in shock. “Demon! Abominant!” He yelled as with tears in his eyes he aimed and shot the creature with the tranquilizer while it was stunned momentarily by the sudden flash of the light. Once the creature was subdued he hurried back on deck, hurling over the side of the ship once more as he stormed to the Ringmaster’s room to confront him on the evil he had allowed to exist on the vessel. Pausing half way for fear of his own life and safety, worrying what would happen to him should he reveal the secret. Deciding to take matters into his own hands he contacted a renowned hunter from Kuwait, promising him the most dangerous of game once they made landfall.

Alhamad was listening intently, his aged eyes sparkling with interest as he listened to Damian's offer. He doubted Damian could truly provide anything he hasn't seen before, but the tremble in the poor bastards's  voice left him pitying the man. Out of curiosity and perhaps pity he agreed to meet Damian, promising a price that would set Damian for life. 

Damain hadn't cared about the money, and found himself letting go of the breath he handn’t known he was holding as he found himself promising to meet Alhamad at the site of the circus.

Once landfall was made, the Ringmaster thanked captain Nathanial for providing in his words “charitable charter across the blue.” Damain went carefully into the cargo hold to ‘help’ with unloading the animals with his fellow coworkers. He stared at the foul demon's cage and found his eyes widening in horrific realization that, despite the generally foul smell having so many animals in one place over a multiple day voyage,  the scent of a body was no where in the air. And as he was loading the Wendigo onto  a  waiting freight train that would take the Miraculous Wonders Circus to its final destination, he realized there was nothing left to prove what had happened to Eliza. Anything to tell tale of her gruesome fate was gone, devoured by the caged devil. 

At the promised location of the circus stood a tall, aged, stoic looking Kuwaiti who was checking his premium gold watch when, almost as if on cue, the train had arrived.  Damian was the first to meet him, the Ringmaster paying a passing glance to the man as he was focused on setting up. While everyone else was moving and unloading a variety of things Damian led the man to the back of the train, near the caboose, where the animals were kept on the train ride.

Alhamad looked from bear, lion, and the other beasts with an increasingly unimpressed look. “Where is this, so called, ravenous creature?” He demanded, his time valuable as he began to suspect he had wasted it in this meeting. That was when the pair of them heard a woman's voice come from one of the cages in the dark back. 

“Damian?” Eliza asked from in the depths of the cage in a voice that was worryingly more believable than previously. Damian stopped Alhamad from getting close to the cage as he used one of the metallic leads to carefully pull back the curtain over the cage. His grip shaking with fear as the Wendigo slammed its body against the bars and reached for Damian, who dropped the metal lead in fright.

Alhamad stared into the black, empty  eyes of this creature from beyond the ocean. His eyes wide in surprise, satisfied delight, and instinctual fear. He found himself shaking slightly as well as he lit a cigar to calm his nerves. A satisfied smile on his face as he shook Damian's hand, handing him a stack of cash that rivaled any paycheck he's ever gotten for his job in the past.

Damian ensured every other animal was loaded off, allowing the old hunter to leave with the train as it slipped from the station and headed off to his private island. The train briefly stopping in Kuwait city for but a moment. A moment that seemed to last an eternity to the starving Wendigo. A moment that would be the catalyst for something disastrous as Alhamad left the thing in the train car alone…

[itsapmseymour]

Post this sleepy elf while no one is looking

[writing-prompt-s]

You've recently been bitten by a werewolf, and after your first werewolf experience you wake up in a den next to a lady who has the same scars as the werewolf who bit you

[homunculus-argument]

Consider:

Me in my ratty underwear, no shoes no shirt, walking room to room of your house with the unsure footing of a newborn alpaca, glass of red wine in both hands, a weed pen hanging on a thread around my neck like a baby's pacifier, wound tape over bruises on my stomach, singing O Mio Babbino Caro over and over on a loop with more passion than vocal chords, while stone cold sober.

[itsapmseymour]

Hey bro, you good? You stopped dead in your tracks when the auto-save prompt hit in front of this open field of white flowers, and now you have that grim pale look on your face…

[fallencolonistva]

Part two of my cringy short story, because I can

A Lonely night in Nova

The light of the Violet Moon had begun to dim as malicious clouds that blended in with the blackened sky had begun to roll in, gazing down on the derelict town with vile intent. The sound of tin garbage bins being knocked over echoed throughout the town as Kajus groaned in pain as he propped himself up with his hands, drawing a sharp breath as he winced slightly. He grimaced. His vision was blurred, as if just being able to see after exiting a dream, or surfacing after being submerged in water. It was eerily quiet in the town, save for the squeaks of rats nearby. Shakily he pushed himself up, rubbing his forehead as he stumbled to his feet. His legs felt as if they burned, unsteady and uncertain as the blurry world spun around him. Kajus took a moment to focus on an object that was laid out before him. His vision slowly refocused, having focused on the sight of the metallic object in front of him as it glittered and sparkled in the ever-diminished light of the Violet Moon. He squinted his eyes slightly for a sharper image as he took a sharp inhale to ease his heart which pounded against his rib cage, the act forcing him to produce a hacking cough. He stumbled back as his legs threatened to give out from underneath him as he resorted to put his weight on the rough brick wall beside him. His eyes focused on the image more until at long last the world ceased swirling around him, the object of his focus having become clear now. The reflection of the moonlight forced him to look away. His mind raced as he attempted to collect his thoughts. ‘A..a garbage can? When did I..? I don’t remember coming out of the house..’ He found himself in a somewhat claustrophobic alleyway. Sweat that felt as if they had burned like acid dripped down his forehead as he fumbled his way out towards the street. The wall to his left acted as a support till he reached the entrance to the alley, his head swam as his ears rang. His forehead burned with the sensation of having been potentially hit. He lightly touched his forehead as he winced once more, a small hiss escaped him as he glanced at his right palm to ensure no blood had come from his forehead; he found it scraped and reddened, but slightly glistened with what he hoped to be sweat. The world slowly swayed lazily left and right before his eyes with each step he took, as if rested on a hammock in the warm days of the summer months.

‘I’ve must have been sleep walking again. At a time like this too. Could… could have sworn I’ve locked the door so I couldn’t get out if I did.’ He leaned more against the corner of the alley for a moment as he looked out onto the street, a vague purple hue infected every corner of his vision as he stood in bewilderment and abject horror. Trash, articles of clothing, broken pieces of bricks, and wood chips that had once belonged to home, stores, and inns were strewn across the ground. If only those were the only things that had been thrown about…

Misplaced limbs. Arms that reached and grasped at distant memories, hands that desperately held onto whatever had remained of their loved ones and normalcy, slumped cadavers that accepted the end, spilled intestines and gore from half eaten torsos that wrapped around the rubble, walls, and the street like grotesque ribbons for a equally morbid parade, legs gnarled and twisted like broken tree branches, snapped at the calf as the shattered femur was exposed for all the world to see. And most strikingly, a somewhat intact, but very evidently mauled corpse of a young girl. Her head tilted upward with a slack and slightly split jaw, one of her eyes missing as she appeared to silently scream at the sky and moon for salvation. Just a few inches away from what remained of her right hand, a stained teddy bear, whose stuffing was slightly ripped out. All appeared to glisten under the Violet Moon’s light with a sickening red hue that persisted even through the purple that encroached on Kajus’s vision.

It should have been dried by now.

Yet still it glistened.

The building just across from him looked as if a dragon had come through. What remained of the wooden skeleton was seemingly singed while cobblestone rubble lay beneath it all, more than likely having crushed whatever was below it. Save for a somewhat rotted arm that reached past the ruin, as if to grasp hopelessly at the Moon above. Reaching for a heaven that has long forgotten them. Luckily, the level of destruction that had befell the building appeared to be an outlier. Though, the rest weren’t exactly perfectly standing. Derelict buildings that sported collapsed sections, shattered windows, cracked walls, crumbling roofs, and splintered door frames. The select few that had the least amount of structural damage seemed to be completely sealed up, windows, shattered or not, were boarded up giving them a condemned look. Kajus was not exactly excited to test his luck with them anyhow, no telling if the doors were locked to keep something out, or keep something in. Or potentially trapped.

The metallic scent of blood and the stench of decay filled his nose and forced him to gag as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the street, pushing his hand against the house to his right.

He had known of the carnage that had taken place.

He had heard the screams, the shouts of guards.

He had the absolute displeasure of the unsavory sounds of things only beyond this world could possibly make.

He had not witnessed the aftermath of it all… not until now.

It was unspeakable, the mangled remains of those who had tried to defend themselves. Broken spears and snapped blades that were covered in a horrific purple substance that remained a liquid despite it being exposed to the air for days on end now. The glittering of it all as the night sky darkened more and more. ‘It’s… all gone. Looks like a riot came through here, or maybe a tornado… Come to think of it, a riot isn’t too far off.’

With his eyes shut to the world, it only made the pungent odor worse. His thoughts scattered and mind unfocused. His feet below him unsteady as he began to walk, using the building's rugged stone walls as guidance. Each uncertain step felt wrong, as if he was too heavy, walking in water. And much, much too loud. The sound of his hands grazing the wall as he felt his way down the street sounded as if he was dragging something wet and fleshy against them. His fingers that stretched out and felt the wall sounded as if an owlbear had begun scratching at it. Too loud, it was all too loud. The squeaks of rats may as well have been shrieks to his ears.

And then, his stomach dropped as he stepped on something that produced a wet crunch under his foot. Heart racing as his stomach twisted in knots. Slowly, he opened his eyes, forced to expose himself to the world once more. Kajus stared down as his vision unfocused momentarily. His eyes wider than ever before.

“W-what?” He muttered with disbelief, and disgust.

He saw legs attached to him that were not his for but a moment. The world was in pale white moonlight. His clothes almost appeared to be animal fur, matted with blood that did not belong to him. His foot inhuman, monstrous, and many times larger than before, resting in the collapsed chest of a fetid corpse. The eyes of the rotted corpse stared into his own.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he blinked, gasping aloud.

‘No. No no no. That’s not- I can’t be-! That doesn’t belong to me!’

In that moment his body felt heavy.

In that moment he saw clearly.

In that moment he saw reality.

But now?

Now that he blinked?

He saw himself, the world dipped back into its purple hue, his legs were his own, his clothes not fur, but indeed tattered, his body lighter.

But the blood was still there.

The corpse’s chest he had stood on, the rib cage his foot had broken through, the bulbous eyes that looked into his all too real.

A scream burned in his throat, but his body would not let him do so. He pulled his foot out as he squeezed his eyes shut once more, the scream being replaced with burning bile as he gagged, moving his free hand swiftly to cover his mouth.

‘I…I think I’m gonna be sick…’

Slowly. Carefully. He opened his eyes once more, Looking out to the previously familiar, beautiful, and lively world. All too alien to him now under the invasive light of a moon of which he did not recognize. It adopted a new kind of grotesque artistic vision. The trees that once bore branches full of large leaves that were just beginning to bear fruit, and once carefully tended to flower beds, of the few that remained standing, were withered, twisted into unnatural shapes and stripped of their alluring petals, dutiful green leaves, the fruit having dried and decayed on the stems that connected them to the trees, and sweet scents now stolen from what remained of the flowers.

A creeping, icy sensation overtaking his nerves and his veins as he let go of the wall, the sickening knot that took root in his stomach only worsened. He walked on, he needed his mind to focus. He would need his mind to be clear if he were to make it back to…

‘Where? Back to where? Damnit I remember! Why can’t I remember?! What happened?!?’

Glimpses of memories of nights before, visions of pale white moonlight danced across his eyes, much like what he swore he had just seen. But this time it was different. Huge bat-like wings protruding from behind a monstrous silhouetted figure, the feeling of being knocked down, the fear, the mortal terror of potentially his final moment… His breath had begun to quicken as his eyes widened, pupils dilated to see as clearly as they could under the otherworldly haze of the purple light from the full Violet Moon. He had begun to realize the severity of his situation. His mind was still muddled, but the remembrance of danger was clear as summer days.

“Dammit!” he muttered to himself. ‘I forgot. Can’t believe I forgot. Can’t stay out here like this, They’ll find me like this. Too exposed, and I’ve made too much noise already.’ He had begun walking as swiftly as he could, his legs no longer as wobbly, or at the very least, no longer threatening to collapse under him. He walked along the building he had been using as guidance until he walked past some of the boarded-up windows. Kajus attempted to peer through them for signs of life, unable to see much in the darkness of the home. Just as he had begun to step away from the windows, he could swear he heard voices. Hushed, and sounding as if a child and a woman. ‘Others? There are others?’ He stepped closer to them again. He wondered, would it be safe call to them? No… No. To do so could mean their doom. And the last thing he needed on his consciousness was the responsibility of bringing death to not only a woman, but a child as well. His thoughts broken as he heard the woman inside begin to quietly weep. He strained his ears, heart still as his breath, only just being able to make out the words:

“Not you…Don’t take my baby too..”

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

vital to revisit childhood interests, for basic educational purposes.

recently found out "sarcophagus" means 'flesh-eating.' 11-year-old me running hot off the library's entire Egyptology section could have recited this shit in their sleep

[fallencolonistva]

Behold anon! You will witness the first chapter of my first short story, started about 3 years ago for a creative writing elective. I am not a writer. I will never claim to be such. But what I am is autistic, and petty.

The collection of short stories were supposed to be showcasing a world I made for DND campaigns (yes plural) that I run.

This is straight copy and pasted from a Google doc. Minimal effort has been made in the slightest for the transition from there to Tumblr.

Posting this here out of spite.

Tales from Nova

A Quiet Night in Nova

Gentle creaks on the wooden floorboards of the decades old house quietly sounded out as Selma’s feet gently padded the floor, blindly seeking for the sweet spot in each board she dared to step on. Grunting quietly once she lowered herself, she discreetly tip-toed her way out of her bedroom with a single-minded focus, pausing every so often. ‘It’s ok… must be a big girl. Like Daddy always says, just have to be brave. Just be brave. Make it to Mum and you don’t have to be brave anymore. Just be brave. Be brave. Be bra-’ Creaaaak. A quiet whimper escaped her as she took another step. Each step she took felt heavy, and every gentle creak as loud as a squeaking door’s hinges. It was dark, the only light within the building being those from the boarded windows, where the sacred moonlight fought to peek through in a desperate attempt to cut through the encroaching dark that threatened to swallow her whole. Pale white light shining gracefully down into the hallway in small imperfect circles of light that illuminated parts of the floor in front of the windows. Staring down the hallway now, she still had two windows to pass by before she would reach her parents’ bedroom. ‘Only two. Only two more.’ She thought to herself. Slight droplets of sweat had begun to slip down her cheeks, clutching her most brave, soft, and prized guardian, Sir Fluff, close to her chest. Wishing to wipe off the beads of sweat, but not daring to let go of Sir Fluff, or so much as to move him anywhere but pressed against her. The top of her precious guardian’s head became damp, and somewhat sticky with her sweat.

She had grown accustomed to the house’s layout and was able to navigate well enough in the dark, having counted how many steps it normally took for her to get from her room to her parent’s room for fun, about thirteen steps. Her father was far less, his stride made it easily five or six steps. Meaningless information that had become invaluable in recent times. It was getting hard to draw in her breath normally, she was five steps in and her breathing had already become shallow. A knot formed deep within her stomach as she begun to tense. Feeling as though she was burning up, and yet whenever her fingertips grazed each other as she subconsciously caressed the stuffed bear, her fingers were cold to the touch.

Passing the first window, briefly feeling the warm breeze the wind had brought in through the oak wood boards. She ducked once again out of the moon's gaze, stopping in the dark between the windows as a shadow passed by them, blocking the sacred moon’s light. Eyes widened with terror as her breath stilled. A few seconds felt like an eternity as she watched the shadow move from one window to the other, and eventually fade, melting itself into the darkness the building safeguarded. After a few more seconds into eternity, she finally willed her body to continue. ‘Must… must’ve been a cloud. A silly, friendly cloud.’ She once more looked to the companion that she held oh so dearly to her chest, quietly whispering, “Right?” Nodding the head of Sir Fluff in agreement, reassuring her everything would be ok. Slipping past the other window she finally reached her parent’s room. Their door was left open for their daughter to enter and leave as she needed.

As she stepped into the room a bit further, she opened her mouth, now noticing how dry it was, in a hushed tone she whispered, “Mum? You awake?”

A slight shift as a quiet sigh of relief was heard further into the room, the room beginning to be dimly lit as a small gas lantern sparked. Pale slender hands released the lantern, and extended out to Selma. “I’m up dear, come. Be quick. Be quiet,” Selma’s mother motioned her over with her nigh boney hands, urging her daughter to make haste. Her skin was sickeningly pale, a far cry to her once stunning sun kissed body from many a day working long and hard outside, having not seen the sun to bask in in weeks. Face partially illuminated thanks to the lantern, parts of her mother’s long and messy hair showing signs of an attempt at normalcy, shown by the non-uniform style her hair had. Her eyes a dull brown with bags under them. Thin to the point where on some parts of her body, if one were to look closely, the outlines of bone would be visible, ensuring her daughter was fed more than herself. A small silent yawn escaped her.

Selma quickly came as she crawled up onto the bed as her mother assisted her and sat her on her lap, barely able to muster the energy to hold her daughter close and stroke her short hair. Nights like this were frequent, not that it could be helped. The mother drew a quiet breath, “Did you have a bad dream?”

“N..no.. I heard something outside.”

Her mother’s eyes softened slightly, though Selma could feel her heart rate had begun to accelerate. “What did it sound like?” The hushed voice hurried and shaky.

“Like it was big, like bigger than Daddy big.”

“Bigger than Daddy?”

“Much bigger, and real heavy too.. like,” she paused, the sound of something that had knocked down what sounded like large tin cans and had started to pass by the wall outside causing her to instinctively freeze, her mother frozen in place as well. Both knowing that all that kept them from meeting damnation was the feeble brick wall that pressed against her mother’s back. When all was quiet again, she had noticed the look on her mother’s face. Her mother, who held a few strands of her hair in her hands had begun to shake, as tears escaped from her dull eyes, all light having left them.

Her mothers grip on her tightened on her, she held her closer than ever before, as if Selma would vanish should she loosen her grip. Suddenly, with a strength the little girl had not known her mother had retained despite her malnourishment, the surprised girl was pulled to her mothers chest. Selma could hear her mothers heart pound against her chest. It was so loud, the previously faint and slow rhythmic beats of her heart had become a thunderous sound in Selma’s ear. She felt her mother’s heart pulsate, hidden just underneath the thin skin and brittle bone. The feeling of her mother’s heart was only amplified by her mother’s body shivering tremendously. Selma closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath, despite her mother’s breath becoming shallow and rapid. Selma’s skin began to crawl, embracing her mother as she found herself shaking just like her mom. Desperately attempting to still her mother, her heart was making too much noise, her body was moving too much. Selma’s throat began to dry, beads of sweat had begun to form on the poor girl’s forehead.

“M..mum?” The anxious girl said quietly. Her mother’s eyes were locked on to several strands on Selma’s hair that had begun to turn from a sleek black to a snow white.

Her mother had begun to mumble, all Selma could make out was, “Not you too... I can’t- not you. My baby. Not my baby. Don’t take my baby too.”

[pantserspen]

How to write friend groups

Keep the Group Size Manageable. Smaller groups are easier to develop. Limiting the cast ensures each friend has purpose, personality, and meaningful screen time.

Give Each Friend a Distinct Role. Clear roles (leader, caretaker, skeptic, wildcard) help readers instantly understand the group dynamic and avoid character blur.

Let Roles Shift Over Time. Roles should not be static. Stress, growth, and conflict allow characters to take control, fall apart, or step back when needed.

Avoid the Hive Mind. Friends should disagree. Conflicting values, fears, and goals create tension and make the group feel realistic.

Create Unique Pair Dynamics. Every relationship within the group should feel different. Best friends, rivals, quiet alliances, and emotional distance add depth.

Use Shared History as Subtext. Inside jokes, brief references, and old wounds imply years of connection without slowing the story down.

Show Loyalty Through Action. Friendship is proven through choices and sacrifices, not dialogue. Let characters risk something for one another.

Balance Spotlight Moments. Each friend should influence the plot in some way. Avoid turning side characters into background props.

Use Natural, Intimate Dialogue. Friends interrupt, tease, speak in shorthand, and say the wrong thing. Their dialogue should feel loose and lived-in.

Put the Group Under Pressure. Stress reveals cracks, loyalty, and priorities. Conflict tests whether the friendship can survive change.

Allow the Group to Evolve or Break. Friendships grow, fracture, or end. Knowing what holds the group together—and what could destroy it—adds emotional weight.

Give Each Member Personal Goals. Friends should want different things. Individual motivations prevent characters from existing only to support the protagonist.