if ghosts wrote

A side blog for my poems, snippets and references. Requests accepted via ask. Anyone is free to reblog and tag as they please; personal, kin and rp blogs included. Everything here is my original content. Please do not repost my work, remove captions or claim it as your own.

[ghostmateria]

I - Awareness. Reality mocks you, jagged teeth grin and rotten laughter deafens. The factual and the false dancing in plain sight, tangled as lovers sprawled on a fire-lit carpet. Eyes narrowed, you catch the blurred lines between two sides of a spinning coin.

II - Honesty. Truth eludes you, slipping across your skin and twining your hair and trickling down your spine like ice water. It’s there, taunting, tantalising and terrifying; every word razor-sharp fangs and burning acid. It coils tightly around your wrists, pulls at you like a the wind tugs at a dying leaf.

III - Denial. Lies comfort you, silken and smooth bound gently over your crying eyes. Honey trickles into ears to smother the enraged screams of a hideous twisted thing clawing at the door to this self-made prison. One final lonely, bitter howl is scattered by a summer’s breeze, chased by smirking sunlight.

— .gm “we tie our own blindfolds” (misc poetry iv)

[inkstay]

May 2018 prompts

Write a short story, poem or anything that inspires you based on one of these prompts and tag it with #inkstay. Make it clear somewhere in the post that it is written for one of the inkstay May prompts (also mention specifically which prompt you’re writing for) and post it before the 25th if you want your work to appear in the magazine.

Prompts of the month 1# - People grow old at a pace of their own choosing 2# - A person hiding a chicken on their person on the bus 3# - Village witch goes on a holiday and visits the beach 4# - A boy reaches places by making stairs out of books 5# - A room that hasn’t been visited for decades 6# - In this world, there are no numbers or mathemetics 7# - A girl who sings songs only when she’s on an empty road 8# - Talk about the all the places one banknote goes in a week 9# - What is going through airport security like? 10# - Trees only make a sound when they think no one is listening

Word prompts 1# - loath 2# - betray, grudging 3# - verbose, foremost, pause 4# - embarrass 5# - vocal, vulnerable 6# - collapse, wasted, protection 7# - novelty 8# - defer, kitsh 9# - inept, bastion, avoided 10# - shrubbery, fish, tree, knight

[ghostmateria]

The lies you fed me were sweet on my lips, soothing and addictive. Years later the aftertaste lingers, sour and bitter. I should know better, yet my hands tremble with the need to taste your falsehoods once more.

 .gm from the book I’ll never finish

[ghostmateria]

How were you able to decrease the size of your font on posts?

Heya! There are a couple of ways to do it, depending if you’re on mobile or desktop. I’m not great at explaining but I’ll try show you some of the options. Note that sometimes this can break if you’re using bullet points or other formatting. 

There is using small text: ctrl  shift  - (minus)

There is subscript: ctrl shift . (fullstop)

If you want you can do it on mobile (and desktop) by editing your post html and adding the tags < sub > < / sub > or < small > < / small> (no spaces!). Hope that helped and made some sense. There are actually a surprising number of Tumblr shortcuts built in if you want to learn them, check out this post here.

[ghostmateria]

Hope is the silken cover we drape over our desires. Easily torn or ruined, easily ripped away to reveal ugly truths.

.gm from the book I’ll never finish

[ghostmateria]

obliterate /əˈblɪtəreɪt/ verb

1. enacted out of malice, the deliberate eradication of that which is flawed or unique, lacking the protection of conformity.

2. occasioned out of negligence, the unintended demolition of that which is fragile or unbound, without armour from assault.

3. methodical excision of layers, peeling back memories, dreams, hopes and beliefs to reveal a raw, unblemished and vulnerable base.

4. proceeded by rebirth, an emergence from debris as a pristine formless thing, as hard as marble, hairline cracks visible upon careful scrutiny.

— gm. dictionary poem (vii). Inkstay Dec ‘17 Prompts.  

[inkstay]

December 2017 prompts

From now on you’ll be getting the new prompts a bit early. This way you can write while you wait for the magazine to be published. Everything else stays the same: Write a short story, poem or anything that inspires you based on one of these prompts and tag it with #inkstay. Make it clear somewhere in the post that it is written for one of the December prompts if you want your work to appear in the magazine.

Prompts of the month 1# - Write about the light of your life 2# - There is a boy who can walk through stories 3# - Describe your music library 4# - What kind of ruler would you be? 5# - Compare the feeling of giving a gift to the feeling of receiving one 6# - Write a poem using tags you’ve used in the past 7# - Describe being hopeful 8# - Write about the differences between someone now and who they were five years ago 9# - Write a poem using a statistic that caught your eye 10# - Write about something you’ve accomplished that went unnoticed

Word prompts 1# - obliterate 2# - memory, grey 3# - wine, stone, laughter 4# - proximity 5# - big, paper 6# - word, blood, pen 7# - archetype 8# - story, voice 9# - petty, loud, water 10# - valiant, apathy, sword, feeling

[theliteraryarchitect]

Editing tip: Are you suffering from -ing disease?

Hey all! Another tip from the editor’s desk. This one is about verbs that end in -ing.

In fiction, -ing verbs can be accurately used to:

(1) Indicate that two actions are happening simultaneously.

Example: While running to catch the bus, Jake dropped his keys.

(2) Show that an action is ongoing or still in progress.

Example: Ingrid wanted to use the oven for her pot roast, but the muffins were still baking.

Jason had been attending college for three years.

But when you misuse or overuse -ing verbs, it quickly becomes tedious and awkward for readers.

As an editor, here are the most common mistakes I see beginning fiction writers make with -ing verbs:

Keep reading

[ghostmateria]

Inkstay Prompt August 2017: 1# - How does one steal stars?

are they stolen, or just lost — .gm

It begins far from the city, far from streetlights and headlights and nightlights. Far from the perpetual battle raged by humanity against the darkness. 

A child breathes out a huff of cold-frosted air, barely visible as it swirls into the night. They’re leaning outwards from an open bedroom window, small hands clutched tight to the frame and face turned upwards in smiling delight. High above are the stars, thousands up thousands dreams scattered like jewels across the sky. They sparkle and twinkle and forever ignite a young imagination. 

Decades pass, as time always does. An adult commutes home across a smog-choked city, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Each worker is nestled in an invisible bubble, eyes cast down, thoughts inward. The world around them is awash with manufactured light, signs and screens and signals. If not for the neon numbers on sleek communication devices the people might have believed it to be morning, or midday, rather than four hours after sunset. No encroaching darkness was permitted into this realm of illumination, a haunting glow that spills up into the skies; as persistent as the foul chemical plumes belched out from the human mass. 

Even if the adult was not trapped in their bubble, even if they were to turn a middle-aged face upwards to scan the heavens, there would be no glimmer to greet their gaze, no diamonds piercing through the hazy ceiling of the night-sky. The stars were stolen long ago, locked deep in the vault of a childhood memory.

[inkstay]

August 2017 prompts

Write a short story, poem or anything that inspires you based on one of these prompts and tag it with #inkstay. Make it clear somewhere in the post that it is written for one of the August prompts if you want your work to appear in the magazine.

Prompts of the month 1# - How does one steal stars? 2# - Describe a summer child. 3# - Write about the longest day of the year. 4# - Four different girls cut their own hair short for four different reasons. 5# - What is both beautiful and horrible. 6# - You’re in a jungle of books, what kind of stories do you encounter? 7# - There’s a house with a mirror in every room. 8# - Write about people who embody ideals. 9# - Write a poem about an article in your local newspaper. 10# - The village witch left, who provides the village with magic now?

Word prompts 1# - charm 2# - drunk, fuel 3# - root, cadaver, demon 4# - black 5# - rabbit, speed 6# - teeth, arrow, grim 7# - gutless 8# - cynical, treason 9# - dangerous, crash, gross 10# - gossip, chamber, distinct, nineteen

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #203

There were some definite perks to being immortal: witnessing events lost to history, phenomenal cosmic power, and a loose sense of responsibility at best.

[ghostmateria]

Everybody walks across this pavement world. Nobody leaves a footprint. Everybody clamours in this crowded world. Nobody makes a sound.

.gm “Significant” (misc poetry iii)

[yellowwperil]

I. i feel a brush of sunlight on my thigh,

apollo coming to say hello

II. twinkling laughter sounds in my ear,

“how are you today?”

III. the trees part and rays of light illuminate my skin,

“you look beautiful.”

IV. a cool breeze drifts across my neck

“i miss you.”

V. flower petals fall onto my arms,

“i want to hold you once more.”

VI. old friends reunite under a laurel tree,

“when can i see you again?”

romancing the god of light on a warm summer day

[ghostmateria]

Do not look on my wings with envy nor be jealous as I soar across the sky. These great pinions are heavy, the power a burden and the freedom a lie.

.gm “Lament of an Angel” (misc poetry ii)

[ghostmateria]

Fire is aggression and greed; hunger in its elemental form. Reaching, demanding, devouring, consuming. Treasures and memories and hopes all turned to ash. Yet even the brightest flame will waver at a single breath. For all its fury, fire can be smothered, extinguished. All it takes is enough tears.

.gm from the book I’ll never finish

[ghostmateria]

Piercing glare beneath a crown of daggers, no remorse, no sympathy. Unyielding.  If elegance was a weapon, sleek, swift and beautifully sharp. Dare to let it slide between your ribs, enter your heart. Fools are stung, lured by the expectation of honey, of sweetness. Nameless faces, all pawns and wastrels. Their fear, their respect, their adoration. It is not a necessity, not craved, not desired. It is a right. So few prove worthy, can bear witness to opulence encapsulated in a marble exterior of efficiency. Courage and strength is nothing, if not coupled with wariness and caution.   Venom pulses through veins of steel. Eyes to judge with calculated precision, words of derision from cruel tongue and wicked wit. A killer smirk strikes without hesitation, the bloody aftermath dismissed without a backwards glance.

.gm “Queen Bee” ♥ happy birthday mei @onmitsukido 

[ghostmateria]

protect /prəˈtɛkt/ verb

1. the absence of all boundaries in the endeavour to shield that which is precious from all harm or misadventure.

2. often misunderstood, twisted, unappreciated, a ruthless determination is the means to an end, always justified regardless of interpretation.

3. any part of yourself that can be extended in intervention, physical or emotional, is to be risked with no accounting for self preservation.

4. rewarded by the desired outcome, a victory tinged bitter by narrowed eyes of mistrust and impassioned words of hatred.

5. an old fortress heart steeped in loneliness yet free of regret, battered and broken by self-imposed duty, waiting for forgiveness that will never be requested.

— gm. dictionary poem (vi).