Somewhat Writing Anonymously

Aspiring writer. Regularly thinking up fictional and non fictional peices of writing for the publics viewing pleasure. Professional Procrastinator and avid reader.

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘His affections were the growth of time, 
Mr. Distant. 
The great jewel set aside. 
Rows of charms like a fire in a forest. Every feature equipped with a change coming. Like a juggernaut.
Like a family.’


[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘There is a world in the middle, A barrier of life. It holds not just beauty, But space in it’s waves. The shimmering sun, The brightest moon. The restless waters, Singing it’s tune. Knowing words I’ve never known, Remembering signs I’ve never seen, Time is stolen by a greedy fiend, Remaining where we’ve long since been.’

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘Love,
Doesn’t end in death
She slept beside his grave,
Hoping he hadn’t left.
.
She had the voice of an angel, 
As she sang through the breeze
Long locks of beauty,
Flowing through the trees.
.
Even when time forgot,
She made the point never to stop.
.
For love is stronger than even life,
Now, his guardian angel
They sleep again as husband and wife.’


[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘Love, doesn’t end in death. She slept beside his grave, Hoping he hadn’t left. . She had the voice of an angel, As she sang through the breeze. Long locks of beauty, Flowing through the trees. . Even when time forgot, She made the point never to stop. . For love is stronger than even life, Now, his guardian angel They sleep again as husband and wife.’ . .

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘I always dreamt, “I will have the perfect princess wedding” The beautiful dress and sparkling ring to match, But now I realise you can’t always get what you want. He was my dream, we looked to the sky as kids- picturing thoughts in clouds. We weren’t afraid then. You asked me to be yours, and I said yes. Because love didn’t need a reason, But betrayal does. Now I have one less dream. Mine needed two strong hearts to fight for it. But here’s the silver lining, He didn’t dream, he only slept at night.’ . Inspired by Emily Kinney’s, ‘Dad says’ Go check it out, it’s a beautifully sad song. And she is a lovely human.

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘“Enter child” Dirt filled fingernails Beckoned him forward. A fragile boy Pale, Skinny

He knew- the next few moments determined the rest of his life, his families lives.

At eighteen he was barely a child, But to the one calling the shots He wasn’t worthy of being called anything but.

A child after all had nothing to do wit age. But rather, Importance.

And he wasn’t important.’

.

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘There wasn’t a section untouched, dust upon every surface. Only now disturbed by fumbling hands. A sound? She didn’t know…

The broken clock? Stuck in a time loop of a second. Her own erratic heartbeat? The footsteps past the door?

It was no secret she wasn’t supposed to be here. Despite her silence she was sure she’d be caught. That, or the room of forgotten things would swallow her up and

Welcome her amongst the dust.’

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘“He’s not coming is he?” I squeezed her hand, the suitcase dropping from the other with a light ‘Thud.’ She squeezed back. And without a word… we left him in only our memories.

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

‘He was coming back, A sacrifice was made. A distraction for the mission, He screamed when she fell, He cried when she met land. He saw her gasp and fight for his hand. He barely noticed the restrictions, or the pain. He only felt what he saw. Black and Red. He came back too late.’

[roselinbooks-deactivated2021032]

✧❀✿ You are allowed to like your own writing/art ✿❀✧

✧❀✿ You are allowed to compliment your own writing/art ✿❀✧

✧❀✿ You are allowed to have a positive view of your writing/art ✿❀✧

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

Why don’t I live here? <3

Source: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/63331938490636637/

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

Reflection of a Portfolio

Portfolio 

Showcases the finest examples of work within a chosen speciality. For instance; -Writing -Photography -Design

Okay so, here’s the thing...  As a student of journalism it is expected of me to create a magnificent portfolio. Whilst mine is nowhere near as perfect as i wish it were, it is at least a start. 

So i thought, why not share it with the world. Remember, nothing within the portfolio is bad work, as long as it showcases skills you have. 

-To start with I wrote a book review, the exact same one on ‘Cinder’ by Marissa Meyer that can be found on this blog.  -I followed on with an Event review of an Apple day in a local park, again, a snippet of which is on my blog.  -Finally, i finished with a news article i wrote that talks about a local tragedy that occurred a few days before I wrote it up. 

This is a portfolio with only 3 write ups, ordinarily there would be much more showcasing all of the skills i have that relate to journalism. 

From the experience of writing all of this up however i have come to the conclusion that i would have no problem adding more in the future and quite frankly rather enjoyed creating what i have so far. 

If you have any questions or want to see any more of my writings send an ask and i’ll get back to you promptly. 

[aestheticsandmood]

Polly Florence

[sweaterweatherisbetterweather-d]

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

beautiful... 

[drunk-on-writing]

this boy he would steal the moon out of the night sky if you told him that you were afraid of the dark  he would give you the sun  if he knew you couldn’t get warm  he would fight every monster in this godforsaken universe until the last star in the galaxy died just to keep you safe  this boy he would kill for you he would die for you he would live for you there isn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for you and god knows you would do it all for him as well why? the answer is simple: love. 

you don’t have to be in love to have an epic love story after all, what is stronger than the undeniable and unbeatable love between two brothers?

happy sciles day! (cc, 2018)

[draculaofficial-deactivated2020]

good witches do not wear dresses of peonies they do not say “i am a good witch” they are not caricatures of happiness. good witches wear night colored cloaks they run with bare feet exposed limbs through the forest they jump over stone walls laughing as the sticks crack beneath them. they drum their fingers on tables and divine your future in sidewalk cracks and cups of tea. they do not say “i am a good witch” they smirk and make you figure it out for yourself.

good witches (a.n.)

[books-read-in-nooks]

When you start a series that is already complete and you don’t have to wait for the next book:

[somewhatwritinganonymously]

This is me reading The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer