Writing Addict

20, struggling college student, I like to write and read a lot of books

[shay-writes-stuff]

Hi Lovelies ^~^

Hi everyone! This will be my introduction post for Tumblr!

My name is Shayla Malone, I'm a 20-year-old English major (used to be Accounting but that sucked-) and I am here to share my art on social media. I will also like to add that I'm really struggling in college but writing has always helped me get through my dark times so I really hope Tumblr can help with that as well.

I started my writing adventures when I was 8 years old with a 1 subject, 70 page notebook. I started writing a sci-fi/romance book that was an idea my friend shared. Ever since then, I blossomed into writing different genres and changing platforms to share my thoughts and words. I have both AO3 and Wattpad that I used to write fanfics for but changed to writing novels. I have some projects in mind so when those start getting close to being finished, I'll post some hints here.

This blog is for my random thoughts, inspiration prompts, and poems about my day. I hope everyone enjoys my writing because I really want it to become something like how Colleen Hoover (however, less controversial) and Elle Kennedy have changed my life with their writing.

[shay-writes-stuff]

The masterpiece that got me into reading again during 2020 now a cinematic experience!! I’ve haven’t cried happy tears in so long from a book!

[makaylajade-author]

“I love my characters” I say as I put them through the worst torture known to mankind

[shay-writes-stuff]

To Be a Reaper - Writing Prompt

The cool autumn air brushes against my hair as I sit atop the bare tree branch. Below my dangling feet sits a large canyon. It has to be at least 200 feet deep. I wouldn't dare be this close to a cliff if this was me a year ago. The thought of peering over the edge would be enough to have my legs shaking.

"You ever just want to quit," I ask, the question slipping out of my mouth quicker than I can think.

The black figure next to me shifts a little, their legs swinging over the branch as they move their body back, resting against the tree's stem. I look over at them as they process the question. Their tattered black cloak flowed in the wind beside them, along with their freshly cut silky black hair. They hum, bringing their hand up to rest behind their head.

"All the time," they answer. "Having the title of Reaper of Souls isn't exactly pleasant, but I have no other choice. It's either this or bite the dust and live an eternity in purgatory. I brought this on myself anyway."

Gripping the branch, I slide over to them, nudging their legs apart as I slide between them. They allow me to rest my back against their chest, their body hollow yet firm. They wrap their free arm around my waist, holding me tight against them as we look over the canyon.

"You never told me the story of how you got this job."

"Am I allowed to?"

I shrug. "I don't know, but I am interested to hear about it."

They sigh, instinctively pulling me closer. "Let's just say I cheated death."

"How?"

I tilt my head up to look at them, greeted by a malicious smirk while they stare into my eyes. Their eyes engulf in black from all the souls they've collected over the years. "Baby, what are me and you about to do now? Before I met you, I wasn't the only Grim Reaper."

I gulp and look down into the dark abyss. On the red-orange rocky terrain, I can see the shadows of the objects around us becoming taller from the sun setting. Time's almost up. "You mean, if we do this, I might become a Grim Reaper?"

"Maybe not a Grim Reaper since I already possess this title but something of importance for the Great Beyond. It's either that or die. You know the options. In my opinion, I rather not lose you."

Inhaling a deep breath, I weigh my options quickly, time becoming a difficult obstacle. In seconds, I make up my mind, standing up on the branch and reaching my hand down to them. A wobbly smile forms on my face as tears brim my eyes. "Let's do this then."

[creativepromptsforwriting]

What I hate about writing is when I have to write so much before I finally get to the part I actually wanted to write.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

And then I finally get there and the part I wanted to write now doesn't fit in anymore with the story I wrote so far.

[shay-writes-stuff]

An Obnoxious Interview - Writing Prompt

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Sounds more like a job interview than a date."

I roll my eyes at his lackluster attempt to make me laugh. "It's a common question asked on every date, okay? Just answer it."

They squint their eyes in confusion as they lean back in their seat with their arms crossed. "Tell me, how many dates have you been on that have been successful?"

Baffled by the other's rude comment, I gasped as my posture straightened. "Excuse me? How is that any of your business? This is the first date. I don't need to reveal any of that information to you."

"Judging by how you speak, probably a lot, and none of them have worked in your favor." Their attention has faltered since the beginning of the date. Their eyes no longer focused on me, and they began picking their nails like they were more interesting than me.

I begin to nibble on my bottom lip, a habit I picked up as a teenager to keep my mouth closed. "I'm guessing you're in the same boat seeing as you're on a date with me right now."

"Look, sweetheart." They dropped their hand that took their attention away from me, and leaned forward on the table with their hands clasped in front of them. "My friend told me they knew a hot person that would distract me from my last partner. You're that person, now, where's the distraction?"

I huff and quickly stand up, the chair almost toppling from my swift actions. "Leaving."

I could hear them scoff as I turned and walked away. "What a waste of a nice body."

"What a waste of a pretty face," I say loud enough for them to hear before exiting the door.

Prompt inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting

[shay-writes-stuff]

Twisted Red Riding Hood

The red hood haphazardly lays on top of the old battered chair in the living room. Its fabric is torn and has blood stains splattered across it. The cloak seems like it’s been through hell with dirt marks and shredded threads. If the cloak looks like this, it makes you wonder what kind of battle and shape the person is in now.

“No one knew my name,” said a high-pitched voice. The creeks of an old wooden rocking chair and the crackling of a fire in the fireplace can be heard throughout the cabin. It’s raining outside, and low grumbles of thunder purr in the background. The brown whiskey bottle sits prettily on the floor while the small glass filled with dark liquor sways in her hand. With how she’s looking right now, you can tell it’s not her first bottle she’s cracked open tonight.

“They always say, “Look, it’s little red!” Or “There goes little red riding hood off to see her grandmother again!” They never talked directly to me but about me to each other. It’s as if I’m not a person like them but just an errand girl to fulfill their duties. Shit! Grandma isn’t even my real grandmother! She’s just some old hag I do stuff for that pays me handsomely so I can make a living in that town. The old woman could care less about me, and honestly, I feel the same towards her.”

The woman takes a sip out of her glass and sighs heavily. “I’m not even a little girl. I’m 25, for christ's sake. No one cares to ask me who I really am, and I’m honestly tired of being treated like an object rather than equal to them. I have better things to do than help this B.S. of an economy. From now on, I will do things my way and live by my rule.”

She finishes her glass with a big gulp and places it on the small table beside her. She looks down at the gigantic gray wolf that’s been staring at her the whole time. It has a scar running down its left eye, causing the organ to be a shade lighter than the other eye. Visible scars run along the furless areas of the animal, and it has blood staining the fur around its mouth. Its paws are also stained with blood and missing a few claws.

The girl smirks as she turns her head slightly to look at the wolf’s work. A pool of blood litters the wooden floor as an arm lays on top of it. It’s hard to see the whole picture since the couch blocks some of the view. The long, thin white hair that the woman adored about the old lady is drenched in the red liquid as her once lovely old client lays lifeless in her cabin.

“You make a pretty good team, you and I,” she said, her eyes still tracked on the body across the room.

“What’s your name,” the wolf growls. Its nasty sneer mixed with its low tone sounded as inhumane as ever.

The woman smiles and looks back toward the wolf. “You can call me Ashlyn.”

“I think Little Red suits you better,” the wolf scoffs.

“I won’t hesitate to cut your throat if you call me that.”

“Ashlyn it is. It’ll be nice working with you. I’ve been waiting to bring hell on this town, and I knew you would be interesting the first time I saw you.”

Ashlyn nods and stands up from the rocking chair. She walks over to the chair and grabs her torn red cloak, throwing the material around her shoulder and putting her hood up. “You never knew what you signed up for when you first attacked me. Now that you know me, let’s go. I’m eager to kill a couple more people before the night ends.”

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Sacrificing Dialogue

Characters sacrificing themselves for... the plot.

"I won't be able to buy you that ring, but I can buy you enough time to get out of there."

"You can't hold them off alone!" "Not forever. But for now."

"Is there any plan in your brilliant head that doesn't involve one of us as a sacrifice?"

"We can't kill them! You will also die with them!" "Dying a hero would suit me well, I think."

"It's ok. I will be fine. You need to go now."

"Everyone or no one! None of us will just be left behind."

"I don't want to hear another word from you. You will not sacrifice yourself for this!"

"It's me or you. And in this case, we need you more than me."

"Don't even think about it!" "I need to do this!"

"We won't make it both. We got to choose."

"I guess one of us has to die a heroic death." "Don't be so dramatic."

"So this is probably the end for me. One kiss for a selfless man?"

"No sacrificing bullshit! It's you and I together, remember?"

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[shay-writes-stuff]

I have a new book called Best “Friends” Forever out on Wattpad! It would be great if you can check it out!

Wylde and Milo have been best friends since they were born, literally. An evil plan conjured up by their parents ever since college to birth two kids at the same time. Friendships have their ups and downs, weird vibes, and the best feeling of all, love. Except, Wylde interpreted love in a different kind of way with Milo. He wants more than a best friend forever, he wants a boyfriend forever.

Follow these two through the journey of discovery and wild emotional rides as they figure out who they are and what they want to be while exploring their Freshman year of high school.

[shay-writes-stuff]

I hate and love how my standards are in a reasonable area until I read a book, then they skyrocket to unbelievable heights. While reading The Decoy Girlfriend by Lillie Vale, my toxic trait is believing I can attract a celebrity with an unrealistic personality who is filled with love but also is amazing in bed, only wanting to pleasure you. My standards are in the clouds again…

[shay-writes-stuff]

Twisted Red Riding Hood

The red hood haphazardly lays on top of the old battered chair in the living room. Its fabric is torn and has blood stains splattered across it. The cloak seems like it’s been through hell with dirt marks and shredded threads. If the cloak looks like this, it makes you wonder what kind of battle and shape the person is in now.

“No one knew my name,” said a high-pitched voice. The creeks of an old wooden rocking chair and the crackling of a fire in the fireplace can be heard throughout the cabin. It’s raining outside, and low grumbles of thunder purr in the background. The brown whiskey bottle sits prettily on the floor while the small glass filled with dark liquor sways in her hand. With how she’s looking right now, you can tell it’s not her first bottle she’s cracked open tonight.

“They always say, “Look, it’s little red!” Or “There goes little red riding hood off to see her grandmother again!” They never talked directly to me but about me to each other. It’s as if I’m not a person like them but just an errand girl to fulfill their duties. Shit! Grandma isn’t even my real grandmother! She’s just some old hag I do stuff for that pays me handsomely so I can make a living in that town. The old woman could care less about me, and honestly, I feel the same towards her.”

The woman takes a sip out of her glass and sighs heavily. “I’m not even a little girl. I’m 25, for christ's sake. No one cares to ask me who I really am, and I’m honestly tired of being treated like an object rather than equal to them. I have better things to do than help this B.S. of an economy. From now on, I will do things my way and live by my rule.”

She finishes her glass with a big gulp and places it on the small table beside her. She looks down at the gigantic gray wolf that’s been staring at her the whole time. It has a scar running down its left eye, causing the organ to be a shade lighter than the other eye. Visible scars run along the furless areas of the animal, and it has blood staining the fur around its mouth. Its paws are also stained with blood and missing a few claws.

The girl smirks as she turns her head slightly to look at the wolf’s work. A pool of blood litters the wooden floor as an arm lays on top of it. It’s hard to see the whole picture since the couch blocks some of the view. The long, thin white hair that the woman adored about the old lady is drenched in the red liquid as her once lovely old client lays lifeless in her cabin.

“You make a pretty good team, you and I,” she said, her eyes still tracked on the body across the room.

“What’s your name,” the wolf growls. Its nasty sneer mixed with its low tone sounded as inhumane as ever.

The woman smiles and looks back toward the wolf. “You can call me Ashlyn.”

“I think Little Red suits you better,” the wolf scoffs.

“I won’t hesitate to cut your throat if you call me that.”

“Ashlyn it is. It’ll be nice working with you. I’ve been waiting to bring hell on this town, and I knew you would be interesting the first time I saw you.”

Ashlyn nods and stands up from the rocking chair. She walks over to the chair and grabs her torn red cloak, throwing the material around her shoulder and putting her hood up. “You never knew what you signed up for when you first attacked me. Now that you know me, let’s go. I’m eager to kill a couple more people before the night ends.”

[shay-writes-stuff]

Peaceful War

One billion planets in the Milky Way Galaxy,

Zylon is the only peaceful planet.

Yellow skies, blue grass,

Purple water, green mountains,

A colorful planet, its beauty vibrant.

Color paints the planet, even the residents.

Northern and Southern hemispheres,

Pastel colors in the northern and dull colors in the southern.

The people help create the personality of the planet,

Blinding smiles, bubbly laughter,

Replacing the absent humming and singing.

Fight or flight?

Neither; they hug it out.

Don’t break the peace; they can’t break the peace.

No control, no independence,

Trapped within the strings of the puppeteer.

Zylon’s past, a planet of war.

Wreaking havoc and shredding blood,

Carnage was the energy they thrived from.

How could this happen? Where did the peace come from?

Maybe it’s false; there is no peace,

There is no paradise. No one is happy.

Smiles are masks; singing is crying for help,

Hugs replace the need for blood.

Zylon, a facade,

Made of torture and pain,

The new way to live from now on.

How could this happen?

No one knows, only two words describing this unforeseen horror.

Controlled chaos.

[shay-writes-stuff]

Peaceful War

One billion planets in the Milky Way Galaxy,

Zylon is the only peaceful planet.

Yellow skies, blue grass,

Purple water, green mountains,

A colorful planet, its beauty vibrant.

Color paints the planet, even the residents.

Northern and Southern hemispheres,

Pastel colors in the northern and dull colors in the southern.

The people help create the personality of the planet,

Blinding smiles, bubbly laughter,

Replacing the absent humming and singing.

Fight or flight?

Neither; they hug it out.

Don’t break the peace; they can’t break the peace.

No control, no independence,

Trapped within the strings of the puppeteer.

Zylon’s past, a planet of war.

Wreaking havoc and shredding blood,

Carnage was the energy they thrived from.

How could this happen? Where did the peace come from?

Maybe it’s false; there is no peace,

There is no paradise. No one is happy.

Smiles are masks; singing is crying for help,

Hugs replace the need for blood.

Zylon, a facade,

Made of torture and pain,

The new way to live from now on.

How could this happen?

No one knows, only two words describing this unforeseen horror.

Controlled chaos.

[of-foolish-and-wise]

fuck it, colorful home libraries

[shay-writes-stuff]

Wolf's Calling - writing prompt

The full moon illuminates the vast forest below with its white cleansing lights caused by the sun. The forest is alive this gracious night from the nocturnal animals chirping and the rushing waters of the nearby river that isn't crowded by humans for once. Everything is peaceful tonight, perfect for a run with the pack.

The wolves race across the forest, their fur flowing in the wind and their bodies weaving between trees. From afar, they look like shadows flying close to the ground. Every prey animal hops or gallops away from hearing the thunderous sound of the wolve's paws in the distance. However, the pack isn't looking for dinner tonight. They just want to enjoy a nice run on a full moon night.

Amongst the wolves is a human. A person they adopted years ago when they have proven themselves helpful to the pack. The human ran as fast as them with a giant smile as they enjoyed the wind rushing across their face. Their feet are like leather now from experiences of previous runs, so sticks and rocks do not slice their feet. They're one with the wolves now.

The pack slows down as they near a cliff that gives them a clear view of the beautiful night sky. The human settles near the middle of the pack as they wait for the leader to start their nightly ritual. They eagerly bounce in their spot, itching to praise the moon with their brothers and sisters.

In the distance, another human watches the other human with disappointment. They shake their head as they lean back and rest against the tree branch holding them up. The tall tree gives them a perfect view of the pack and the human standing in the middle.

"That idiot really thinks they're a wolf, huh? They'll learn sooner or later they don't belong there," they huff. "Once they do, I'll bring them back to where they belong."

[shay-writes-stuff]

Crater Lake Murders - writing prompt

It's always around April 14th when a new kid is murdered in the small town of Medford, Oregon. The reports list that every year, a kid from either North or South Medford High School is found dead in Crater Lake on the same day.

The victim's body is reported slashed to hell with one missing finger from each hand. The most horrifying part is that every kid's organs are extracted and replaced with cotton stuffing before being sewn back together. Whoever is behind it acts as if the victims are stuffed animals.

The only leads the police have are that the victims are brunettes, the murderer appears to have a pattern whenever they kill someone, and the victims always have to be teenagers. Basically, the police only have the obvious facts everyone already knows.

I didn't care about any of this at first, even though I am a teenage brunette that attends North Medford High School. Until the last victim was revealed to be my ex-partner. Even though we broke up, we ended our relationship peacefully and became best friends. Losing a friend like that hurts, especially since I know everything about them.

The police aren't helping enough and only care about the case when the date comes around and a few weeks after just to satisfy the grieving family. This time, I'll serve justice for my ex and other victims who fell fray into the sicko's hands. I'll figure out the mystery of the serial killer and catch this person once and for all. Once I catch this person, I'll make them feel the pain all those teenagers felt when they were tortured by them.

[shay-writes-stuff]

Crater Lake Murders - writing prompt

It's always around April 14th when a new kid is murdered in the small town of Medford, Oregon. The reports list that every year, a kid from either North or South Medford High School is found dead in Crater Lake on the same day.

The victim's body is reported slashed to hell with one missing finger from each hand. The most horrifying part is that every kid's organs are extracted and replaced with cotton stuffing before being sewn back together. Whoever is behind it acts as if the victims are stuffed animals.

The only leads the police have are that the victims are brunettes, the murderer appears to have a pattern whenever they kill someone, and the victims always have to be teenagers. Basically, the police only have the obvious facts everyone already knows.

I didn't care about any of this at first, even though I am a teenage brunette that attends North Medford High School. Until the last victim was revealed to be my ex-partner. Even though we broke up, we ended our relationship peacefully and became best friends. Losing a friend like that hurts, especially since I know everything about them.

The police aren't helping enough and only care about the case when the date comes around and a few weeks after just to satisfy the grieving family. This time, I'll serve justice for my ex and other victims who fell fray into the sicko's hands. I'll figure out the mystery of the serial killer and catch this person once and for all. Once I catch this person, I'll make them feel the pain all those teenagers felt when they were tortured by them.