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Literature Text
I’ve decided on a world,
You might know of it.
It’s where our stories come alive!
The problem, you see,
Is that what we know of those tales,
....are lies!
Think a thought and it appear before you,
But be weary for it will happen in twisted ways unkind.
The shame of it all, is that it follows you.
...stuck forever with this idea latched behind.
So we take these two things,
Put them together just right,
And populate the world with nightmares abound!
While dreams may be real,
Fear is much stronger,
Such a shame for all those around.
You might know of it.
It’s where our stories come alive!
The problem, you see,
Is that what we know of those tales,
....are lies!
Think a thought and it appear before you,
But be weary for it will happen in twisted ways unkind.
The shame of it all, is that it follows you.
...stuck forever with this idea latched behind.
So we take these two things,
Put them together just right,
And populate the world with nightmares abound!
While dreams may be real,
Fear is much stronger,
Such a shame for all those around.
Literature
2 Sentence Story
It was a dark and stormy night.
The Earth cradled itself in blankets of black clouds, awaiting its end.
Literature
No One Left Behind
Headlights blaze down a wooded highway going just over the speed limit. Three figures could be seen from the faint glow of the dashboard and the light of the passenger's phone. A female with her hair pulled back drove the silver car. She had her head propped against her fingertips, elbow braced against the window. Her fingertips lightly pressed and massaged her temples and forehead, as if trying to fight off a growing headache. Her face was was drawn with circles deep under her eyelids. She wasn't wearing makeup, but even that probably wouldn't had masked her fatigue. She wore a thick brown coat over a her black long sleeved blouse to keep th
Literature
Unknowable
Unknowable
The darkness pressed against my corneas, diffusing across the transparent boundary into the aqueous humour, as if it were a solid object forcing its way to my retinas, obscuring my vision. The distant creaks of the old house lent a menacing atmosphere to the blackness permeating the almost silent rooms, the almost footsteps complementing the almost-forms of the dark.
As the sleep fell away from me, the looming tenebrosity receded and the house took on a less perturbing aspect. The creaks were just creaks, the shadows in the corners of the room were just the places that the dim light from the power extension cable near the bed did
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I found this in my folder of stuff I done did, read it, loved it, posted it. I think it was supposed to be the start of an RP idea, or something. I have also decided that this is totally a children's poem.
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