welliwrite

[welliwrite]

i can still taste honeyed alcohol in my throat that puckered burn that sweet aftertaste living in the glow of yesterday's sleep

last night

[welliwrite]

all my thoughts are incom plete i cannot finish and i cannot sp eak my mind is dead and my attention is we ak so please be patient because i te nd t o eas ily brea k

get the stitches ready. it's time to mend the leak. my head might be messy but my heart still beats.

[welliwrite]

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 4-5 sentence drabble about it

[welliwrite]

youre dead to me. a swollen corpse of old memories and happy times that cant erase the deep sad lines you carved into my face

good thing they didn't scar. you're not worth scars.

[welliwrite]

He went to the drawer and rested his fingers on the handle, knuckles white. The room swelled with silence and a sheet of white velvet shone in through the window. He stood in the otherwise darkness, shuffling his feet gently as his toes squirmed against the soles of his shoes. The drawer remained closed. He grit his teeth. "Why are you hesitating?" he asked, narrowing his lips tightly, strangling his words. The metal handle was frozen in his palm. He felt his skin pull as he unfurled his fingers from the handle. "I can’t," he replied, clenching his eyes shut. "I just can’t." "Why not?" His voice was thick with irritation. "What’s stopping you?" He shook his head and shuffled away from the nightstand. "This isn’t right." His heart raced. "I can’t do this." "What’s stopping you?" he asked. The floorboards creaked under his weight. Dust foamed around his ankles and rose into the air. "Because this isn't right. I'm not supposed to do this." The room was so still he could feel dust particles grazing his skin. He felt his blood pulsing. "But this is exactly what you're supposed to do. You're here, you're right here, so what's stopping you?" He licked his cracked lips. From where he stood he could just see the far wall, boxes stacked against the attic wall. 'Winter clothes' were written on one in sharpie, 'Kitchen' on another. A box lay on its side, blocks and a stuffed bunny bulging from its top like innards. The box read 'Sarah'. "It's morally wrong," he reasoned, gulping. "Morals can't stop you phsically doing anything, though." "If the cops find out..." "Yeah, if." "If my parents find out..." "Oh, they're too enamoured with their own lives to pay attention to you." His lips curled up grimly. "I don't want to, though." "You know what your problem is?" The drawer started to rattle. Wood against wood, it slowly pulled out, the insides sliding against the bottom of the drawer. His fingers unfurled from the handle. "You're chicken shit. Through and through. And I'll be damned if I sit by and watch you waste this precious opportunity." He reached into the drawer, feeling the cold, solid metal form inside, and pulled out the pistol. It shone like an onyx beacon in the dim light. "What's stopping you?" he asked again, though this time it sounded like he had a real answer. His lips curled away, a disgusting grin on his face. "The answer, boy, is that nothing is stopping you. Nothing will ever stop you." The gun clicked in his hand. "So stop hesitating and get to work. We have a long day ahead of us." The room sucked and pulled around him, breathing his essence. Before he could say another word, his feet took him to the door, his mother's voice calling him for dinner.

[welliwrite]

NaNoWriMo

i’m gonna write the next part of this in another piece. i’m done with this one for now, i gotta move on cause it’s preventing me from getting more work done.

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[welliwrite]

#1 - NaNoWriMo

Mez and Volya Mot

———

That night was the first time in weeks that her mother came to her in a dream.

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[welliwrite]

what if i wrote every word i've ever spoken

what if i could remember

just the things i've said to you

just the things that

could be right

could be wrong

and if i can't remember

let it be a test of

merit

and i

will deny it all

[welliwrite]

ha. wrote another thing with mez and the mystery girl - and now she has a name!

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[welliwrite]

yeeEEAAAAHHHHHHH wrote a thing with Mez and a mystery gal. fiddling with different personalities trying to decide what i wanna go with. i actually really like this one.

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[welliwrite]

Do mez, baby first drug trip. Do pest working at mcds itll be funny. Do young adim and mez. Write all of these or die

The intercom crackled, with a grunt, a voice rose over the sound of the roaring car at the menu like an angry tiger. The customer tapped his fingers against his window impatiently, glancing around."Hello?" he asked."Oh, hello there. Welcome to MacDonald’s," the voice spoke with a grin, "How may I help you today?"

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[welliwrite]

an arrow

flies

like a humming bird

suspended in

air

a breathe of clarity

in a small

dark

world.

[welliwrite]

I would like to see a story about Pestilence and a romance/heartbreak he has experienced.

Pestilence stood before the end of the world. Smoke and ash tickled the tips of his toes and he curled them into his sandals. Bodies writhed against the blackened soil, charred and boiling, gas shooting up through the earth like fiery ribbons.

"Well then."

The corners of his lips pulled back into a tight smile. The air was thick and hot, enough to melt the skin off a normal human being. Being one of the Four Horsemen, there was absolutely nothing normal about him.

There would be nothing normal ever again. No coffee shops, no street bums, no screaming children, no life. With the end of the world came the end of civilization, and here he was…

"Fuck." Pestilence brought a hand up to run through his hair, fingers tangling in the messy knots. The skies were dark, everyone was dead, and he was alone. The realization was coming upon him quickly…

"I’m out of a job," he muttered, frowning. "I… I have nothing left to do here. I’ve got fucking nothing…”

The world was over. Once the Earth had been consumed, he wouldn’t have a purpose. Maybe if the Big Man decided to create a new world, but who knew how long that would take?

Groaning, the Horseman rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms. They would be riding off soon and he would be bored for a few centuries, maybe a few millennia, with no one to infect or bother.

"Guess I need a new profession…" Pestilence looked around, scanning the horizons. They were dotted with wild pyres and mountains of lava. "Wonder if there’s unemployment in Hell."

[welliwrite]

can u write a johnkat porn. this isnt nicky ok.

ALRIGHT, IT’S DONE. AUstuck, johnkat, it’s finally doNNE

———

"look we’re almost done see?"

"FINALLY AFTER SEVERAL AGONIZING WEEKS…" “aw it wasn’t SO bad. c’mon, you’ve had fun, i know you have.”

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[welliwrite]

EriSol - A Slice of Silence

The streetlights glowed, white specks drifting in front of the orange-yellow lense that haloed out around each lamp. The glimmer from his cigarette

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[welliwrite]

He went to the drawer and rested his fingers on the handle, knuckles white. The room swelled with silence and a sheet of white velvet shone in through the window. He stood in the otherwise darkness, shuffling his feet gently as his toes squirmed against the soles of his shoes. The drawer remained closed. He grit his teeth. "Why are you hesitating?" he asked, narrowing his lips tightly, strangling his words.

The metal handle was frozen in his palm. He felt his skin pull as he unfurled his fingers from the handle.

"I can't," he replied, clenching his eyes shut. "I just can't."

"Why not?" His voice was thick with irritation. "What's stopping you?"

He shook his head and shuffled away from the nightstand.

"This isn't right." His heart raced. "I can't do this."

"What's stopping you?" he asked. The floorboards creaked under his weight. Dust foamed around his ankles and rose into the air.

[welliwrite]

Drones A working ant fluid automatic function like well-oiled Machines. With inhuman gears working organs and bones to a Rhythm. A constant motion that keeps the line in order to achieve a goal that does not benefit those who keep the motion Alive. It's what we cannot and will not feel until we are alone with only Us. Those who act together to keep the rhythm be the machines act as the expendable Drones.