#writereffect

[toriftw]

Shout out to the writer's club created by andrewadjei

Been in a rut of stress and frustration and my writer’s block was worse as a result. I need to write for prompt two, especially since prompt three could take me a while & I’m determined not to be behind on this. I need to write more I really think it will help ~ sooo writer’s effect prompt two, I’m coming for you

[introspectivemeltdown]

Writer’s Prompt #2

Prompt #2 |3/19/15-3/26/15

Find the meaning of your first and/or last name, and shape a work of writing around that meaning. The writing does not have to include your actual name, and it does not have to be about you (it can if you want). It just needs to center around the definition of your name. Make sure the theme of your writing centers on that meaning.

St. Jacqueline of East Harlem

I told her when she dies

I’ll fly

to the Vatican.

Fight the pope to let her in,

to the sacred hall of saints.

If I have to I’m gonna paint 

her face on every surface.

St Jacqueline the eater of heathens,

she took two orphans and exorcised their demons.

Now I have something to believe in.

St. Jacqueline the nurse with empty pockets

fed us until our bellies burst.

St. Jacqueline the martyred gardener

cultivating seeds with her nourishing waters. 

They bought and sold her

but instead of a victim, she

became a soldier. 

Divine mother of hundreds, 

limitless love

to her the day is never over.

To walk with her is 

to walk with a magnet,

people travel for miles in attraction.

They beg, cry and take advantage

of her infinite kindness.

But in the end they return with humbled hearts

to heal the fires inside them.

She is a miracle.

May God protect the Saint of East Harlem.

[storynookofabun]

Prompt # 1 | 3/12/15-3/19/15 You have a superpower, but this power is also your greatest fear. What is your power? How do you use it? How does it use you?

  “You’re so manipulative!” she teases me while shoving the pillow in my face. I love hearing her laugh, nothing is more infectious than the way her voice rings out in that melodic tune she hates so much. I smile in response remaining quiet, content to interact this way for eternity. However many minutes have passed we are both unaware having both fallen into syncopated silence. A glance at her ridiculously hot pink cat wall clock reminds me that I have to go if I want to be on time for work. Sighing in frustration I need not say word to her, she already knows and gets my shoes and coat ready.

I step out the door and the freezing wind whips my face mercilessly. Keeping my head down I make my way to my car and jump in before what I perceive as potential frostbite setting in. In an attempt to warm up faster, since the car takes time, I rub my calloused hands together while simultaneously blowing air into them. A car pulls up next to me, honking to see whether or not I am leaving the spot. I raise my hand in assurance that I am leaving and begin to move the car out of the way but am violently thrown to the passenger side.

There is a dull ache on the entire right side of my body, screaming and what sounds like broken glass. My vision is hazy and I see her as a set of triplets rushing towards me. She pulls the door open and I don’t realize that I was pressed up against it until my body falls into her arms. Strange, I was freezing a few seconds ago and here I am as warm and comfortable as when I wake up wrapped around her beneath the comforter on a Saturday morning.

“NO!” I scream and protest and start shoving my hands in her face. Anything, I have to do everything I can do get her off of me. I am in agonizing pain but she has to let go of me. Already I am draining her life energy.  She’s confused and does not understand so she grips me tighter holding me closer to her in an attempt to calm me down. Fuck that guy who crashed into me and makes his way over in his douche bag suede tracksuit and sunglasses in the middle of an overcast winter day. I make a reach for him, hoping to get him instead, but I know I don’t. What was once supple warmth is now shriveled and cold, but still she clings me to her. “Oh what the fuck?!” tracksuit starts shouting repeatedly like it’s his mantra. I drop to the pavement only because her withered body no longer has the strength to hold me up. 

[toriftw]

Prompt #1 | 3/12/15-3/19/15 you have a superpower, but this power is also your greatest fear. What is your power? How do you use it? How does it use you?

I run faster through the trees, no longer feeling the thorns and brambles tear through my skin. I'm mid shift and ravenous, already feeling the mountain lion that's bursting through my bones getting ramped up for a kill. In my last few moments with coherent thought, I go back to what made me feel so aggressive. "Hey why don't you watch where the hell you are going?" The meat headed asshole went out of his way and bumped into my shoulder on the sparsely populated train. I glared at him with my fangs bared, hoping that that would get him to back off. No such luck. "Who the fuck do you think you are? I'll tear you apart, you worthless bitch." He turned back towards me, cracking his knuckles and flexing his muscles as the testosterone coursed through his body, drowning my feline senses. I tried to use my animal advantages only in do or die situations, but the train was stifling and I was losing my control on the aggressor inside me begging me to fight. My legs were vibrating with the strain of keeping it together steering me directly into the face of the threat. "If you threaten me again, I will beat you senseless," I said, my voice low and dangerous. My whole body was vibrating now and I purposely breathed slowly to keep control. "I. Will. Beat. Your. Ass." He reared back and slapped me in the face, and God help me, I couldn't help but grin. I shed off my backpack and punched him the jaw, knocking his head to the side with the force. He looked at me in shock, surprised that I could hit him so hard and I tackled him to the ground before he could react. I could feel my pupils dilating and my claws coming out as I hit him over and over and over, the beast in me reveling in my anger. After a while, I realized he wasn't moving and looked down. "Oh God. Oh no, oh God what have I done." His face was a bloody mess too broken and battered to tell his nose from his eye. There were claw marks down the side of his face and chest and he didn't look like he was breathing. I put a shaky hand to his throat and felt a feeble pulse. The train stopped and a distant scream filled my ears as I grabbed my backpack and rushed out of the station. The blood on my hands mocked me and I tried desperately to wipe it away on my clothes. Why does this keep happening to me? I just want to be normal. I just want to go a whole month without hurting anyone! I think, as the tears run into my shirt and the forest gets closer and closer. Fuck it. I'm a shitty, out of control human, but I'm a damn good cougar. I need to just stay that way. I run faster through the trees, no longer feeling the thorns and brambles tear through my skin. I'm mid shift and ravenous, already feeling the mountain lion that's bursting through my bones getting ramped up for a kill. Two legs turn into four, hair into fur, teeth into fangs. I am done being human, I am only a beast, and when the shift is complete, I scream.

[introspectivemeltdown]

Writer’s club prompt #1

Prompt # 1 | 3/12/15-3/19/15 You have a superpower, but this power is also your greatest fear. What is your power? How do you use it? How does it use you?

“Hello my-my- bbbrother, long time no see!” The homeless man exclaimed in broken english, teeth chattering from the cold. It must be 10 degrees on this dark corner and yet he sits there with a smile on his face as millionaires walk by him. I shook his frozen calloused hand and told him I have a surprise for him. Shit this is still a surprise for me. 

I took his cup and looked inside. There were a few pennies, lots of quarters and dimes. I poured them into my hand and closed my eyes. It doesn’t really hurt, but it feels like I use up a very important part of me every time I do this. But for this man, I don’t mind. He deserves a break. 

I opened my eyes and his met mine. There used to be sadness in those eyes of his, hopelessness, despair, humility. “My friend, I turned your coins into solid gold.” I touched his Styrofoam cup and focused. “Now it’s gold too, You don’t have to sit here anymore and be ignored. I made enough gold to buy you a place to live.”  I gave him a duffle bag, with various objects I turned.

The homeless man cried, stood up and hugged me. “Angel, you are from God. Always you bring me money or food, now this? Thank you my brother.”

I never saw him again. Since then I rarely use my power in fear that the wrong people would find me. I didn't want this to be my defining characteristic. Sometimes I wonder, what if this is all I’m known for? I used to be scared of death and searched for ways to be immortal. Now I have a way to be and I don’t want it. When you’re immortal your flesh dies but what you created lives forever. It sounds great but it’s terrible curse. Over the centuries what you created will be misinterpreted and used for evil means. It will cause destruction, poverty, violence. That’s everything I wanted to fight against. Now I’m the biggest contributor. 

I stare in the mirror, as a side effect my eyes turned into a lighter brown. I almost don’t recognize myself. I have the ability to create perfection. Men have leveled entire countries searching for a city of gold, yet here I am a universe of it. What will they do to me when they find me?