#critique this

[blindish]

remember when Lars thought Steven's gem stuff was ridiculous and would make fun of/be embarrassed by Steven, and he wanted to be so cool but had such deep rooted insecurity and NOW he's the pink captain of a STOLEN HOMEWORLD SPACESHIP and he's FIGHTING EVIL GEMS AND HAS A TEAM OF BEAUTIFUL DIVERSE GEMS TO FIGHT BY HIS SIDE AND THEY LOVE HIM SO MUCH JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE MY STRONG AND BRAVE SON LARS THAT IS SOME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YOU CAN NOT CRITIQUE

[amazonfirestick]

Wander

45 minutes ‘till curfew. Just enough time to finally explore the forest that lurks just beyond our town. It can’t be that bad, not as bad as people make it out to be. The first step feels like trespassing, the second sends a thrill throughout my body. I take a quick glance behind me. Seeing no pursuers, I began my trip into uncharted waters. 

So far so good. No supernaturals, no weird holes, no unnatural creatures. No trail either. I grab a nearby stick to mark my entry point on a tree and continue my stroll. Sunlight streams down through thick branches. Marigolds litter the ground below. I breathe in the crisp air and regret not bringing a camera. 30 minutes, still enough time. My head gets fuzzy as I walk farther and farther, deeper and deeper. Soon my legs get tired and I lay on the warm grass. Hm, maybe 5 minutes?  I relax my arms and admire the scenery. A few small animals dart around in the bushes. I pick up a delicate flower and inhale. How come this place is forbidden? I see nothing wrong. Colorful trees peacefully hover above. They seem to grow taller with each passing minute. I shut my eyes and relish in the warmth of the summer afternoon. 5 minutes turns to 10, then 15, then I don’t know what. I should head back soon. I reluctantly open my eyes. To my surprise, it’s already dark. But it’s only 5 o’clock. Right?

My head is pounding, maybe sleeping on grass wasn’t the best idea. The trees now loom impossibly tall above me, blocking any light. Suddenly, everything goes silent. I didn’t notice until the only thing I heard was my own breathing. No chirping or wind blowing or leaves scattering. Nothing. How did I get here? The only way out is to retrace my steps. But where… In the distance I hear noise. Like carnival music. Something tells me I shouldn’t follow it. Common sense, most likely. But where else do I go? I close my eyes and try to think back to where I came from. I marked a tree at the entrance, maybe I should just walk forward and hope for the best. As I walked, the marigolds that covered the ground began to wilt, and the amount of trees became scarcer. This isn’t the right way. I move to turn back but the music pulls me into a trance. I turn around and walk in the direction of the noise. Everything is a blur as green grass soon turns to barren ground. The music is getting louder. Almost deafening. There’s a hole in the distance with letters that I can’t read above it. A deep sense of dread fills me as I walk closer and closer. 

——————————————————————

The hole is about 10 feet tall with the words “To Wonderland” above it with an arrow pointing downwards. Melody blares from within the pitch black abyss that the moonlight can’t seem to penetrate. I hear voices beckoning me to join them, to have fun forever with them. It’s all I could do not to give in. I subconciously take a step forward, like someone is controlling me. My arms and legs shake from great strain. I grit my teeth as I try to resist. Soft whispers of persuasion turn to shrieks and threatenings of murder. I close my eyes and focus on moving my right leg back. I feel something snap and I shout in pain, but I keep trying. The screams get louder and it sounds like they are coming from all around. I managed to move my foot a few inches back. I try to block out the noise and move back as hard as I can. I can sense them coming closer to where I stand.

     My foot lightly touches the ground and I feel a sense of hope. It's when I try to move my arm when the voices suddenly stop, the silence filled with my heavy breathing. I fall backwards and feel my senses start to come back. The curfew! It has to be a few hours past curfew by now. I stand up and wince as I put pressure on my injured leg, but I try to limp my way out of the forest. Tap tap tap. Soft taps come from the hole. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Maybe this is all just a bad dream that at any moment I could wake up from. This could end any moment now. Frigid air numbs my back and I freeze in my tracks. The tapping gets louder and closer. I limp a little faster to try and get away. The tapping turns to steps, steps into stomps. The sounds are getting faster, I’m a few steps away from the forest. Tiny blades of grass brush against my ankles. My hand touches a decaying branch. Suddenly, a large black hand juts out and grips my leg. I try to grasp the branch but to no avail. My fingers slip, and I crash onto the ground. My leg numbs under the solid grip of the hand. I twist around and kick with my good leg to pry it off. It proves futile, so I scratch at the ground in desperation. The music comes back even louder and more distorted than before. I cry out from fear and pain. The hand drags me closer to the hole with increasing speed. More arms wrap around my limbs and squeeze roughly. The last thing I see is my vision blackening, and the last thing I feel is a sharp snap in my neck.

[starkott-blog]

*shrugs*

[krystawrites-blog]

Family Tree

I am solid to the touch; Press your fingertips to my skin I will not budge. “I am swell,” swelled, swollen full Engorged with my fears, bursting With life. I encircle my wrist with my own fingers, Turn in on myself, choking on deadened branches Leaving raw red rings, strangling Myself with these bracelets of the damned. I am green with envy, ripe With sadness. Pluck me from these roots That suck me dry, and bury Me so I may grow again. Plant me in the earth so I may wiggle My toes into the dirt, let me be grounded Ankle deep in someone else’s decay. Would you carve a hole Into your own heart, feed Me with your blood So that I may root myself in your love? And if you would make space in your home And room in your family, Can humans be transplanted so easily?

-Kc°

[talkinrobotspiderwomanblues]

The Untitled Story I Want to Say Was Inspired by a Joni Mitchell Song (First Draft)

[burningcherryblossoms]

My English Assignment

"Think of how far I've come," I tell myself over and over, step by step. I can do anything I set my mind to.

My body disagrees with this. The weight of the backpack that holds all the supplies I needed for a night in the wilderness pulls me down. My shoulders ache. My legs burn. Each breath I take is a gasp for air. Asthma doesn't do well in the mountains. The sun beats down on me. I forgot to wear sunscreen. I should have worn sunscreen. My only relief comes from water. I soaked my bandana in the stream earlier and though it's warm I carry two water bottles. I need to be careful. They're almost gone. My body thirsts for more. My body thirsts for rest.

I am almost there. I ache and pant and thirst but, I am almost there. It's just a little bit farther. I know it. "Think of how far I've come," I tell myself once again. I have doubted, worried, and stressed. I am there. "Think of how far I've come." Not only today but, in life. "Think of how far I've come." How far have you come?

[ellezeu-blog]

Shoes.

Liquid courage provided me the boost of confidence needed to walk through this unfamiliar way of life. My mind twisted by the labels, stereotypes, and preconceived notions of my newfound person led me into foreign places with strange feelings. Too uncomfortable to fully embrace it yet too revealed to remain hidden. My niche was found in the midst of Westport; A progressive, hipster-esque, gay-friendly, stretch of bars and restaurants within Kansas City.

She approached me one night and without hesitation I asked for her number. That number came in handy when there was nowhere else for me to sleep or shower. This apartment became a form of shelter for me during a time I did not possess a car. Her habits came to the surface and none of them were positive. Then again, who was I to judge? She was awake for days at a time because meth was her crutch. An old man named Ted paid her rent asking for companionship in return. Her apartment was open to visitors of all types, at all hours. I no longer felt safe. I finally felt as though there is worse out there and I wanted no part of it. One night bar hopping in Westport together, I decided to ditch her.

A pair of Palladium canvas boots with shredded laces and holes near the toes walked me through my bottom and into my first year of recovery. In a much healthier way I have learned to acknowledge and accept my feelings for women, a very specific gold-star woman.