#writeober 2019

[pe-ersona]

The Night Before The Big Day

Taglist: @oc-growth-and-development @sunshineomeara @ventilaccion

She was obsessed with her engagement proposal. The ballroom, the flowers, her hair, her make up, her dress. The courts coming together to celebrate. The war behind them as two kingdoms join hands, making a bridge between the gap. She sees her parents’ faces, their smiles and misty eyes. His Highness, sliding a ring on her finger. How she will feel the ring scratch across her cheeks when she wipes away tears. How she will hear the cheers over her own rejoice. How the weight on her shoulders will lift and disappear. 

She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her skin covered in lotions and she bathed in flower water to her chin. Her maid combed her hair and rubbed in oils before keeping it loose over her shoulders. She wore her favorite nightgown and had her maid prepare the bed for a early night. When her head hit the pillows, her eyelids fell. But she was nowhere close to tired. Her mind was too preoccupied, too busy.

[thenightofthelivingwriters]

DAY TEN- The Night of the Living Writer

Text Description:

10.1: Dry 10.2: You enter a cemetery with dug up graves 10.3: What’s your OC’s favorite holiday memory?

TAGLIST:  @fancydiplomateggneck @introspective-outreach @maydee21 @purpleshadows1989 @busychasingfaeries @anntarinsanitymaterialized, @freshink, @spacebrick3, @aj-the-satyr, @how-the-fuck-do-you-write, @oradall, @quaking–aspens, @ancientarchivist, @emdilou, @notquitenovelist, @purpleshadows1989, @writing-every-other-star, @arynneva, @jennalasby, @immawritethat, @travel-the-world13, @simplescenarios, @navajolovesdestiel, @ccwritesstuff, @weirdmrdoctor, @elywinters, @tsumushi, @starrulet, @all-bridges-will-burn, @pe-ersona, @aurumni-writes, @storytimetraveler, @ writing-every-other-star, @pygmydragon,   @greengianturanus, @livinginmynostalgia, @gallifreyfallsnomore-rycbar,  @magpiesmisgivings, @welpnotagain​,   @thenarratorisnarrating​

[anntar-radix]

A Tarmac Talk

“Deven?”

“Yea?”

“Why are you laying here?”

“Cause I can.”

Alex sighed. “In the middle of a road.”

“Yup.”

“Are you trying to get run over?”

“Not really trying much of anything at the mo’.”

Alex groaned. “Are you going to make me move you out of the middle of the road?”

“Alex. It’s Halloween. Do you really think that any cars around here are going to be using this street?”

Alex stared in disbelief at the man on the asphalt.

“Care to join?”

Alex sighed again and started to lay down next to Deven. “You realize you are actually, certifiably nuts, right?”

“It makes life interesting.”

“Says the one who, after the first day of class, started plotting a coup d'état to overthrow the college consortium.” “Can you blame me? The classes around here are enough to make anyone go nuts!”

“They are not.”

“Yes, Alex, they are.”

“No they are not.”

“Assigning three essays due the next day is something that no-one should go through. Hell, Brian had four!”

“I told you not to take that course. You have heard the horror stories.” Alex paused. “And they were not due the next day, they were due in three weeks.

“Tomato, potato.”

“Wait, weren’t we going to go down to Carolyn’s for the gaming marathon?”

“But the stars are too good tonight to move.”

Alex didn’t disagree.

(Hallo frands. This is day 2 of 31... kinda... Anyways, the prompt I used this time was An Empty Road on Halloween Night.  I hope y’all are enjoying this thing. And who knows. Maybe I’ll get day 1′s thing up tonight too... Hopefully. Thank you to @thenightofthelivingwriters for doing the prompts. And see y’all later)

[henscom]

When Ben had asked, “Why Bowser?  Why Peach with Bowser?” and gotten a response of, “Well, think about it,” (Ben thought about it, for a second, but Henry wasn’t done) “if she didn’t want him to take her, she probably would have stopped him by now,” he could only stare blankly at his partner His friend His more than that. “Henry. That perpetuates rape culture.” Henry didn’t get it. He never did. “What- what the hell does that even mean!” “It means it sounds like you’re saying she was responsible because she let it happen, that she wanted it to happen.” “Yeah. And?” “And that’s kind of a form of victim blaming. People say that a lot when they want to take the blame off the guy.” “Oh. No, wait, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying with them, in their case, see, Peach is strong enough. Like she’s not some damn damsel in distress. I’m saying like, it takes two, y’know? Sayin’ they probably fuck like rabbits.” Ben’s nose wrinkled at that word. Fuck. It felt so incorrect for an act that was supposed to be of love. It wasn’t like he himself never used it, but in this context it was both funny and jarring. Henry liked it. The way his nose wrinkled. It made him smile, unabashed. And it made Ben’s shoulders rise with the heat in his cheeks, because Henry had told him as such many times. “I think I’ll just go as Mario. Wearing a dress sounds…” He didn’t like to admit this, that he was uncomfortable wearing dresses. He was perfectly fine seeing other men in them, but as for himself… It was like being called Tits for however long he wore the dress. And then some. “Cold.” he half lied. An omission, really, not a lie. But Henry could tell when Ben lied. Henry could tell when anyone lied. Everyone had some tic. Ben’s was a swallow. “Cold?” “Sorry, I- I shouldn’t have lied. I just…” “Embarrassing?” Ben said something like “Yeah, exactly,” and so on and so forth. On the night of Halloween, they did not walk hand in hand like they’d so wanted to, but they got a shitload of candy, and did sneak kisses to one another's cheeks when no one was looking.

[how-the-fuck-do-you-write]

Night of the Living Writers- Day 1- Trees

I had HORRIBLE writers block, but here we go!!!!!

     Mallor felt as if the trees were watching him. It was the middle of spring, but he still felt as if the cold of winter was still snagging at his darkened skin and seeped into his bones. How long had it been? How long since he first came into these woods? The 'Ohi'a lehua seemed to already be blooming brightly, and he could just feel the long hopbush gently caressing his legs. Despite the life and color the wilderness had, Warren could not feel more mournful and angry. How dare the world seem to be celebrating today? How dare it seem to rejoice on the anniversary of something so terrible?! 

    He could still hear her laugh. After all these years, he could still make out the sound of her skipping and dancing by him in the grass. He could swear the sound of the branches moving in the wind was of her giddily climbing the massive trunks, in hopes of seeing the coast from her throne of leaves and bark. He could swear his tired and sullen blue eyes recently met those deep blue of life. The memories both hurt and made him nearly crack a smile. For as long as he could remember, she was by his side. Just them both against the cold and harsh world they were born in. 

    God, the thoughts even made his grip harden on the old sweater he was wearing, despite the warmth of spring. It was the last thing he had of her. Taking care of hands and fingers pinched by the needles of a seamstress, the bright colors of fabric as they were seamlessly woven together into elegant and unique clothes. That's what he missed the most. She loved life so much. She loved the feeling of the grass between her toes and the warm sun against her skin. It was almost impossible to remember...

    Mallor felt his throat tighten. He was there. The hibiscus blossoms were the brightest shade of yellow in the sunlight. Right in front of that bush of flowers was a marked grave. The foliage seemed to sit around the bush and small mound of dirt as if they mourned as well. And finally, the forest was still. The man knelt by the overgrowth, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a photo, crumpled and worn with time. Him and his twin sister, happily grinning to the old camera used for the shot.

    "I-I'm sorry that I'm late," Mallor mumbled, placing the photo softly to the grave, "I found it... hard, to get up." He stopped to let in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Jasper. If only-" A sniffle rose this time, "-if only I could've done something... If only you were still here..." He couldn't bear to talk anymore, quietly sobbing as his head lowered. Above him and his deceased sister, the trees bent in the wind. Along with Warren, the trees seemed to mourn and weep.

[ventilaccion]

A small drabble/prose for Halloween inspired by this! 

Last Halloween I bought pumpkin seeds and sowed them in my garden. I watched them from the window sill and observed as they grew. The stems grew first - dark and rich, and then the yellow flowers. I waited hours, days and weeks, but pumpkin there was none. 

Then one stormy night I heard the sounds - the knockings on my window. Out I looked and there he stood - the pumpkin I had planted! He stood and smiled, and smiled and waved, and motioned to the latch. With surprised I realized: He wanted me to open! 

I gave a laugh as he smiled and yelled across the window: “I should not let a stranger in!” He responded with a shrug. Then he gave a teasing smile, a funny way of telling: “Strangers are not allowed in, but stranger I am not. You sowed me, watched me as I grew, you do know me through!”

And of course he was right! My hand went to the latch, rusty with the weather. I tried and tried, it would not open, sealed by unknown force. Yet with more strength, the latch gave way and the windows - BAM! - slammed open. With it came a whistling wind that made the curtains flutter. The cool night air blew on my face, the moonlight bright and pretty. 

Then he grew taller, his shadow longer and darker - engulfing me within it. Still smiling his face covered the moon and glowed a strange shade orange. He smiled to me, kept on smiling, cursed to smile forever. In an open invitation his hand extended to me. The corners of my lips, they curled, for I understood: He’d make me smile - smile forever - when I take his hand. Enthralled by the magic moment my last true smile vanished when I reached out. Since then I never stopped smiling.

[a-winter-bitch]

Goretober Day 9: Pills

It was late in the night, the air was filled with the sounds of small feet and giggles as children rushed to and from houses. Lights of all kinds flashed from nearby haunted houses, illuminating the streets in the familiar greens and purples of the season. For what they added to the ambiance of horror they took away from the appearance of danger. The streets were thrush with life, they were alive with the vibrence of costumes and candy wrappers. They were vibrating with the excitement of the holiday.

Teens with high, deep blushes were flecked into the crowds of children. The were sneaking by on what could be their last halloween that didn’t have them drunk and scantily clad. They ducked their heads as cars went by and clutched their bags of candy closely. Claire plaid no notice to them though.

Claire’s halloween riches were far better than any previous year, her fingers dipped into every candy bucket with purpose. She grabbed as much as she could and shoved it into her bag. Her bag of candy was thrown over her shoulder and it made her sway to one side violently. She lagged behind the other kids, sweaty with the effort to carry her bag.

She was hungry, eager for a snack. Here in the middle of the sidewalk seemed a good a place as any to stop. Claire shifted through her choices, chocolates and lollipops and all her little heart could desire. Her hands hit the bottom of the bag and she found little round candies of all kinds loose and ready to consume, easy pickings. Her daddy had told her not to eat any candy if it was open when she’d gotten it. But she thought she was old enough to decide, her daddy had left her go out by herself this year after all. She scooped a handful of the sweets that had spilled into the bottom of her bag, they looked brightly colored and tasty and she tipped them into her mouth without a second thought. Her face scrunched at their odd taste.

[alarajrogers]

It’s lesbian visibility day? Great! I’ve just been thinking about lesbians. My very own lesbians, that I made up.

Lately (past two years) I have been writing a lot of lesbians. Or wlw anyway (I’m bi myself). Basically for my own purposes I’m going to make a list of lesbians, and how likely I am to expand or finish their story:

The Earth and the Moon Are Lesbians: This stands on its own. Not expanding it.

The Evil Overlady and her Evil Queen: My contribution to a thread; it is unlikely, but not impossible, that I may turn this into a story.

The Broken World: I have been planning this since like 2016. It will be a thing. Eventually.

Driving Across America: This was originally a worldbuilding exercise, based on a line from the song “Ozar Midrashim” by Information Society (”In the distance, I can see a huge holographic Ronald McDonald between the grain elevators and the trees”), but somehow lesbians got into it. I intend to write it as a story or book sometime.

The Swan Wife: Part of the 52 Project (that I’m going to fucking finish, somehow). Based on the fairy tale, but included a cat, and lesbians. Is actually a complete and full story that is done!

Storm (Inktober 2020): Inspired by the song “Fear for the Storm” from Starship Iris, but the Iris here ended up drawing on a different mythos.

Rose (Writeober 2020): Quite some time ago I had an idea about magical girls who are now adults returning to the place where they grew up and fought their battles, and the evil they fought rising again. Due to my obsession with The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir, two of the magical girls became lesbians who used to passionately hate each other in the old days but now they’re married.

Guardian/Potion (Writeober 2020): Based on the prompt that the witch is taking first born children in order to get them away from parents who give away their kids for material gain. Then the witch turned out to have a wife.

Ancient (Inktober 2019): I know it’s not what Dolly Parton intended, but in my head, Jolene is a succubus, not a human woman. What if she relented and gave the singer back her man, because she saw something in the singer that attracted her? Not as a succubus but as a woman? This one’s also complete.

Honorable mention for Buddy (Inktober 2020): I don’t actually know yet if Wanda Joyce and Irin Liath are gonna end up girlfriends. I just know that if I was watching a TV show in which a middle-aged black starship captain who is also a mom, from Earth, got flung through a wormhole into a region of space where everyone looks human except they are all either blue or brown, and the only “white” person is an albino scientist of questionable morality who decides to be Joyce’s protector and best friend because Joyce saved her life, I would absolutely be shipping the hell out of that. (Any noticeable similarities to Farscape are absolutely intentional, thank you.) So do I not ship it just because I’m the creator of the canon? I dont know yet. (If I decide I’m shipping it, then Wanda’s bi, because I am a bisexual who is mysteriously not writing any bi rep for reasons beyond my personal comprehension, and in fiction I really don’t like “I was married to a guy and had kids with him but I was really a lesbian all along and I’m not attracted to men.” Yes, it happens in the real world but this is my fictional world and there can be bisexual women in it.) I mean, the main character in “Ancient” is bi because it’s a big part of the plot that she was deeply in love with a man, but you’d think a bi woman would have more bi women in her stuff.

[ptaxkuro]

Frail / Writeober 2019

Best of writeober 2019 : Day 8/??

Leaving one trap, you can easily find yourself in another. The sun was so bright it made me shiver. Every cloud had retreated by the noon. The pressure was immense. I caught myself looking at the wide flat expanse. I thought, what if that frail sky will fall and break on the spikes of our cities.

[wottwin]

I had fun with today's prompts. 😁 "Swing" was the watchword for Inktober 2019 Writers Edition hosted by @hannahrobinsonauthor and "Magic" was the word to watch for Writeober 2019 hosted by @w.r.i.t.e.r.l.y. And you should watch @paxdomino_designs for the corresponding illustration to this story! It's gonna be great! . . . #inktober2019 #inktober2019writersedition #inktober2019writeredition #inkober2019day9 #writeober #writeober2019 #amwriting #baseball #wizards #iwriter #iwrite #writingprompts #writingprompt #storyprompt #storyprompts #writingchallenge #octoberchallenge #octoberwriterchallenge #writingcommunity #writercommunity #writerscommunity #instawriters #instawriter #instaauthor #writerofinstagram #writerscommunityofinstagram #writersofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/B3ar7pyg53Y/?igshid=lbpdit7v82hm

[pe-ersona]

Dark Finale

Taglist: @thenightofthelivingwriters @sunshineomeara @ventilaccion @awkwardplant

Dark Past / Dark Figure / Dark Forest / Dark Room

Eyes adjusting to the dark, she sees the slit of light under the far door. Her feet step one in front of another. Like the day before. Her steps, hesitant. Her feet hit his carpet, leading into his apartment. The same apartment that she came over to hear about his problems and lean her shoulder for his tears. Recently, she heard the same story over and over but it was different. He found someone new and she tried not to pry for her heart was too fragile. She held her feelings bottled and released them with someone else, a guy who would always help with her thoughts. Help her hide behind her mask in front of him. She encouraged him and she wish she didn’t. She called for his name once and he couldn’t breath out an answer. Too far gone. She felt an eerie silence then and now. When she came around the corner, she held back her scream and dropped to her knees. The image of his crusty hair in her hands scarred her vision now and her ears still rang with police sirens as the doorknob twists in her hand. 

The stairs creak under her weight and she flinches, waiting for something to stir. It doesn’t. She continues and walks into a hallway, leading in two directions. Left or right? One way is a dead end of more doors. She couldn’t test them if they lead to an exit or a bedroom. She takes the other option and it opens to a living room. There is still no sound of someone--something else over the loud heartbeat in her ears.

She can’t take it anymore and she runs to find the front door. Her footsteps heavy. She passes through the kitchen and stops. There is an array of papers and a map next to the sink. Too curious, she looks over and recognizes the handwriting. From the same hand that pushed her out the door. She picks up one piece and she spots the photos. Her blood runs cold. The paper slips out of her hand and she turns around to run out of this nightmare. 

Unaware of the approaching dark figure, he grasps her arms as she screams. He is dressed head to toe in black and she can’t see his face. He lifts her struggling body and forces her to sit on the couch in the living room. He places a tight grip on her arm like a burning brand and other close to her throat, squeezing hard to shut her up as he stands behind her. 

A door from down the hallway open. His face was not mistaken. The same one she saw however long ago. She grit her teeth as tears stream down her face at his presence, once a safe haven, now forever a prison. 

“Why?” She wheezes out. 

“You wanted my help, didn’t you?”

[thenightofthelivingwriters]

DAY TWENTY-ONE: The Night of the Living Writer

Text Description:

21.1: Hush 21.2: The murder down the street isn’t just crows. 21.3: Who believes in ghosts?

TAGLIST: @fancydiplomateggneck @introspective-outreach @maydee21@purpleshadows1989 @busychasingfaeries @anntarinsanitymaterialized, @freshink, @spacebrick3, @aj-the-satyr, @how-the-fuck-do-you-write, @oradall, @quaking–aspens, @ancientarchivist, @emdilou, @notquitenovelist, @purpleshadows1989, @writing-every-other-star, @arynneva, @jennalasby, @immawritethat, @travel-the-world13, @simplescenarios, @navajolovesdestiel, @ccwritesstuff, @weirdmrdoctor, @elywinters, @tsumushi, @starrulet, @all-bridges-will-burn, @pe-ersona, @aurumni-writes, @storytimetraveler, @ writing-every-other-star, @pygmydragon,   @greengianturanus, @livinginmynostalgia, @gallifreyfallsnomore-rycbar,  @magpiesmisgivings, @welpnotagain,   @thenarratorisnarrating​

[anntar-radix]

Opening Statement of Belief

I hate being alone in this world. Not in the most logical sense of the word but more existential.

I have and have had colleagues, friends, and family, but no-one that understood what it meant to be alone. They would always say “You have a wonderful family and friends, what can you possibly mean you are alone.” Then they would write me off to go see a therapist.

As you can probably tell by my annoyed prose, that didn’t work out so well.

Colleagues move. Friends leave. Family dies.

Time passes.

Time simply does not care whether or not you are alone or in company. It simply ticks ever forward, without care, eventually destroying everything.

Everything, sparing a few.

I just so happen to be one of them.

I have lived with some of the greatest thinkers, understood a few of the unimaginable concepts of the multiverse, and learned how to brew some of the best types of alcohol, if I do say so myself. And in these dark times, it seems that we need to spread some of this knowledge around.

If you are reading this journal, congratulations, you have the ability to take steps into the larger, ever-so-confusing world. And a few points before I divulge any further.

Keep learning all you can.

Pay attention to everything.

Be sure to use this book to your advantage.

Until I find you or you find me,

Daedalus.

And without further ado, let’s begin, shall we? (And Day 6 of 31 (I had to check that again...) of this done. The prompt I used was Alone and Daedalus is kinda a loner... I guess. Anyways, back to the writings to see if I can get caught up on the days. Also thank you to @thenightofthelivingwriters for the prompts as always, you rock!)

[pe-ersona]

Dark Past

Taglist: @thenightofthelivingwriters @sunshineomeara @ventilaccion @awkwardplant

Dark Figure / Dark Forest / Dark Room

“You’re missing the point. You can’t be here.”

“I didn’t know where to go. You’re the first person I thought-”

“They know that. They will be here any second now.”

“I don’t know what to do. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know that. I wasn’t there, but I know you didn’t do it. I know you too well. And I know you will come to me but I thought you would be smarter.”

“Why can’t you help me? I came here so you could help me--out of this.”

“I can’t help you this time. I can’t hide you in this house. They will find you.” and I can’t let that happen.

“What should I do then?”

“Run away.”

“What? I can’t just--where do I go--”

“Run away!”

[pe-ersona]

“Wow.”

Taglist: @thenightofthelivingwriters @sunshineomeara @ventilaccion

The scene in front of him played like a movie. It was unreal. Disconnected. Too perfect for his mind to understand. Made up of dreams. Different from the life he lived. 

On the top of the staircase, she stood there. Shocked? Nervous? Confident? Step by step, she descends. Everyone fixed on something about her. Her soft smile? The sheer neckline and sleeves against her clear skin? The hand-sewn jewels on her bodice? How her wavy hair flows behind her like the train of her white dress? The prince’s eyes caught the princess’ eyes, straying to nothing else.  

[pe-ersona]

Give me a second

Taglist: @thenightofthelivingwriters @sunshineomeara @ventilaccion @awkwardplant

“Are you a ghost?” 

“No. I’m not.”

“Then where are you? I can’t see you, but I can hear you so clearly...”

“I don’t know how well I can explain this...but I’m in your head. But not in your head. I’m not physically in your head-”

“Wait! Hold on! Do I have powers?”

“Not that I know of. I had this ability since...awhile....Are you all right?”

“With someone who can talk to me in my head. Give me a second.”