Wow, it's beautiful.. I like it also.

Yes, yes, I know, I write too much songfictions, but I just can't help it. Here's my latest one, at least the first version of it. I might edit it since it's not really what I wanted, but still I think it's worth sharing.

Tobacco Road

It was known as the Tobacco Road – the country’s largest tobacco trading company and the fields it owned with the road between the two. Thousands of people were employed by the company – adults, children, elderly – there was enough work for every one.
Dave had been out on the fields picking up the tobacco for almost as long as he could remember. His family was one of the few families that were loyal to the company and never fled it in hard times. The boy used to listen to stories about how his great grandfather first decided to work with the back-then small company. His son, Dave’s grandfather, started working with him at the age of 8 and so it became a tradition.
Secretly, Dave hated the place. He dreamed of what was beyond the wall separating the Road from the world. He was told, or to be exact overheard, rumours that it was all full of colors beyond anyone’s imagination – the sun was yellow, the sky was blue, the grass was green. Dave hated the black and white world he lived in. He dreamt that one day he could wake up before the break of dawn, go outside, lean against the wall and watch the sun rise. See all the color and beauty it held. Admire it. Instead, he would hear the factory roaring, announcing the new day.

Today he was called in the factory. One of the people who was responsible for packaging the cigarettes called sick so someone had to take his place. Dave gladly agreed to, just to see what it’s like to work in a factory.
Very few people could enter it and even fewer could afford to buy cigarettes. Sometimes, if you were very good at your job, you would get a cigarette in the break. But just sometimes.
Dave wanted to try one, inhale that pure poison, taste it, cough. He secretly took on of the cigarettes in the box before him and walked out for his lunch break. It was cold outside, mostly white today, since frost had fallen today morning. He took out a match from his pocket and lit it to the hard wall surrounding the Tobacco Road. He leaned on the wall and looked up to the greyish sky – no clouds today, no sun.
He could hear the boys on the other side of the Road singing happy songs. He called them the lucky boys. They were born in a world of color, a world that seemed so far away from Dave’s. He wanted to leave something behind, something that would be remembered. Something to put all his soul in, but he didn’t know what. Many times he thought of scratching a message on the wall, but he didn’t know what to write.

He looked up in the sky again, smoking the cigarette. Closed his eyes, listening to the song from the lucky boys. Opened them when the song finished and saw something red-greenish in the sky. Could be in this world of black and white a butterfly had come?
The kite was sawing the skies, followed by the shouts from the lucky boys.
Dave went home that day and asked his father.
- I saw this kite today. It was colourful. Can you catch it for me, father?
He didn’t answer. Dave looked in his eyes.
- It is but a world away, my son. We can not have color here. And we have just the smell of tobacco. Do you know what is said beyond the wall? ‘People on Tobacco Road can look, but they can’t play.’ You will never be on the other side of the wall, my son.

That day Dave decided what he would scratch on the wall, what he will leave behind.
He woke up the next morning, went to the factory, took another cigarette and went to smoke it by the wall. He took out his knife and scratched in the wood.

* * *

The factory was long but closed. Some man from beyond the sea bought the Tobacco Road and shut it down soon after, leaving so many people with no work. Dave watched from a hill nearby how machines came in and tore the factory down. The smell of tobacco was so strong now. He was surrounded by boys, telling him to fly the kite this was and that way.
Memories flooded his mind. He remembered his childhood, the black and white childhood he had. He remembered that first time he was called in the factory to work, the first cigarette, the lucky boys singing from the other side of the wall and the kite in the sky. He remembered what he wrote the next day on the wall and smiled.

* * *

Down the hill, the people were tearing down the wall. Many of the planks were scratched with meaningless or misspelled words, signs or names. But there was one that had just one sentence on it. The guy read. He looked up to the sky and saw a kite. Smiled
"If it takes me forever, one day I will have that kite."

We were talking about challenges in our lives in class today and there was this picture of a guy in front of a chess board and he seemed like he's losing the game.
The guys kept discussing that he was dressed in white, with white hair and probably he was even thinking in white, so probably the fact that he had to play with the black set devastated him and made him lose the game. It was a sentence at some point in the discussion that burnt me.
I almost instantly got the picture of a chess board and two people playing, pretending the pieces are their defenses and hearts and trying to overpower the other. I went crazy with the thought of it, it seemed so perfect, so... extreme. Black or White. Black AND White. Black vs. White.
I started taking notes on it on the way back, walking and writing, because I feared I will forget my thoughts. Luckily I didn't and I wrote this, which replaced all my old favorite writings...

In Black and White

Let’s play a game of chess. Like friends do. You play the black, for I know you like that color. For you it’s the color of death, the color in which our relationship was painted right from the start. I will play white. For I was always the ray of light that tried to turn the darkness into twilight.
I will set the board. King takes here, Queen goes there, the pawns in the front, my defences are built. Let’s start, shall we? You move first.

Slowly, one by one, my pawns fall just like my defenses fell so long ago. A few of yours fell too, but very few. I keep going. I move my knights to protect my King, my heart, from you, for I feel you too close. You take them down. As you will take all my rooks and the bishops and finally reach where you were aiming – the King. Go ahead, take it. I give it to you freely.

Now that you got it, what will you do with it? It will not fit your black set, for it is too different. I will not change it’s color, for it’s too stubborn. It will just be there, to protect you and be beautiful by your side.
You tried to fit that piece in, but you couldn’t, so you threw it away. It broke in pieces and by accident I saw it there, lying on the ground and picked the pieces up. I recognized my King and put it back together. I know I will ask you to play a game of chess with me again, so I keep it.

And here we are, playing the same game of chess. You’re aiming for my King. I won’t give up that easy now. My King is fragile than before and defenses around him are tougher than before.
Keep your pieces on your black squares and I’ll keep mine on my white ones.

These are very good!! LastDropFalls

me want more.

Thank you.
There isn't anymore for now, but I'll post as soon as I write something.

You are so productive
And I am too lazy to read right now. Will feedback as soon as I have.

Nothing new from me either. Sorry.

Quantity isn't always quality. I was feeling very, very inspired this last week or so, I guess.

One new thing from me, which, I know, isn't as good as my previous things, but still.. we all have our bad days. This one is "inspired" by Dance with the Devil by Breaking Benjamin.

Dance with the Devil

Kneeling before the Devil, they bent their heads down on said the words. The three words that would forever bind the to him.

He opened his eyes for the charade first. Hers were still closed, finding only the wrong things. It was easier for her to find everything that did not work between them than the things that made her smile. It was easier to tell lies, to hide behind them and to believe he is still blind and believes them.
"I can show you I can see through your empty lies. I won't stay long in this world if you go on." he said once. Then she didn't believe him.

She remembered how he held his hand to her asking her to dance. They hadn't danced since they met, so many years ago. He embraced her and they danced. The Devil was smiling beside them
He slipped from her embrace. She raised her head to his face. He look aside, to the Devil. She slowly turned her head in that direction. Her eyes so nothing, she didn't feel him there. But the Devil was there, dancing with them.

- It's time to say goodbye, my love. Now, as we dance with the Devil tonight.

Questions and Answers

I found myself a pretty reliable guy to question about The Ghost, called himself B.C. don’t know what the initials made out but I could give a damn less about it. I had already known who he was him and I went back a little bit I did a couple shit jobs for him cleaned up his laundry.
He welcomed me into his home offered me a smoke and I took it. He grabbed himself a dry martini and offered to make me one, I declined never did like the taste of dry martini anyways.
“So B.C. I came ‘cause I needed to ask you something.”
“Really, well I’ll tell you as much as I can about what you wanna know. Just keep your ears open though don’t shut them out on me, as much attention as you’re giving that cigarette I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Don’t worry my hearing’s all set on you, I never found these things talk much anyways. All I want to know is about this Ghost guy, I already got the general idea of who and what he is I just need to know the where.”
“Well he’s a lot of places nowadays; last I heard he likes to hang out at this little club. Clubs called Rain or something along those lines.”
I found the name ironic a little, it seemed ironic to me that the weather happens to be wet and rainy and the club our friend hangs out at is aptly named ‘Rain.’
“That’s good enough for me, all I need to know is it’s location.”
“It’s by the old graveyard from way back. You know the one where your father was buried?”
“Alright thanks for the help and the smoke.”
“Anytime Jackie, don’t go being a dumbass though.”
“Don’t worry about me, just keep your specs peeled my coming here could get you into some trouble.”
“I got myself under control; no one’s leaving here without a few extra holes.”
“Nonetheless keep yourself peeled.”

Very good DMCMaster.

Thank you very mcuh it's taking me a while to finish the whole thing but it's coming along nicely.

aaaaahhhhhh, all these stories and i just DON"T have time to read them i have so much homework all the time.
i will get to them this weekend, hopefully.
they all look so good as well. everyone is being really productive

Well, this one is based on a song some of you might know

Where do we draw the Line?

Mark was sitting at his laptop again, checking his emails. Since his country had closed its borders to all travels two months ago, this was the only way he could talk to his girlfriend. She was living in a different country, about one thousand miles away. They had both known that this kind of a long-distance relationship could be hard, but neither of them had expected this development. Luckily, he had seen her in person three months ago, not long before the borders had been closed. He had been to her country, because by that time she had been pregnant with his child for about six months, so they had agreed that the travel would be too stressful for her. Yesterday, he had only heard from her brother, telling him that she could not talk to him via messengers because she was currently in hospital. However, he had promised to keep Mark informed via email how his girlfriend was doing. Today, there were two emails; the newer one with the subject ‘Check this one first!’ and some images attached. When he opened the images, his heart skipped a beat.
Obviously, they had been taken in a hospital. They showed Mark’s girlfriend looking at the camera with that smile he loved so much. In her arms, she held a small child which was wrapped in a towel and which he assumed to be hers. No, ours, he corrected himself. Checking the second email, he found this to be true. There was a bit more information about the little girl and a line reassuring him that both the girl and the mother were fine. He went back to looking at the images of his girls, memorizing every detail, like the little hand that was sticking out of the towel in one of the images. He was fascinated by its perfection like every time he saw a little child’s hands: The tiny fingers with their tiny joints were always a wonder for him. To know that this was his child just made that feeling stronger.
The happiness this had instilled in him made him want to share it, so he got up to visit his best friend Eric. Just before he reached the door, however, he remembered the dusk-to-dawn curfew that had been put into effect this week. Nobody was allowed outside their houses from 6 pm to 6 am anymore. He wondered what the government would think of next, power-hungry as it was. Pushing this thought aside because it was likely to spoil his happiness, he called Eric instead to tell him about the emails. Eric was happy for him, although he seemed somewhat busy. When Mark asked him about this, he simply said he would tell him in person the next day.

What Eric told him the next day was more than just a bit alarming, yet it seemed like the right thing to do. He had talked about the recent laws passed out by the government and asked how much longer the people were going to take that. Mark’s answer that he himself did not feel like putting up with it any more at all led Eric to tell him that there was going to be quite a sight all over the country in a few days and that he should get himself a torch.

Three days later, Mark watched from his window as hundreds of people marched through the streets long after nightfall, everyone carrying a lit torch, making the whole city join that dance of flames and shadows. Asking himself if this really was the right thing to do and wondering if the police would be sent against them was what had kept him from joining the demonstration. Then he remembered how the recent developments had influenced the things he wished, so he grabbed his coat and the torch he had bought two days ago and went outside.

Watching the sunset the next evening, standing in the place in the suburbs where the demonstration had been stopped, he asked himself what they had achieved. The police had been sent against them and had been waiting here, intending to stop the demonstrators. They did stop, but it had taken some bruises and medium injuries on both sides. And nobody had gone home before all the torches had burnt down.

Now, however he was standing in this place alone, wishing for a cool breeze to blow away his worries or at least the smell of failure, but there was none. He wished for somebody to tell him that it had not been for nothing, but nobody was there. He felt incredibly alone and further from what he had wished for than ever before.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He expected them to belong to a policeman coming to tell him to get home before the curfew. The voice he heard the next moment was much more familiar, though, and it said something very different from what he had expected.

“Yo. That was quite a night, don’t you think?” Surprised, he turned around to look at Eric who stepped up next to him, a pleased smile upon his face.
Mark’s answer was not as pleased as Eric’s smile, though. “Yes, you could say so. But I doubt that we achieved anything. They won’t cancel the curfew just because of this. And they’re even less likely to open the borders again.”
Now it was Eric’s turn to be surprised, “What? Do you want to tell me you haven’t heard the news today?” Then he went back to grinning and handed Mark a card while he continued talking. “This little piece of cardboard says they did.”
After reading the words ‘Boarding pass’, his own name and flight information for a flight to his girlfriend on the same day on the card, Mark had troubles making out Eric’s next words. “This hasn’t been the only protest of this kind last night. There were protests everywhere, the biggest ones in the capital. The even called in the army there. Bad luck for them, the troops turned on them instead. I think we’ll have new elections pretty soon.”
Although his legs were feeling weak, Mark had a few different questions. “Did you pay for this? I’ll have to make that up to you. But I have barely enough time to pack clothes for the trip. And how do I get to the airport?”
Eric’s grin grew wider as he answered them one by one. “Yup, was me who paid it. Don’t worry about owing me anything, though. All I’m asking in return is that you find your peace… and maybe that you find enough time to go for a few drinks with me each time we meet again. Concerning your last two questions, I’d appreciate it if you could stay upright until Pete arrives with his van. You can break down after sitting down in it. He went to your house to pack your stuff while I bought the ticket and should be here any minute.”

Sitting in the plane a few hours later, Mark was happy. He did not know what exactly tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he was going where he was meant to be. He also knew that as long as he had friends like Eric and Peter, he would not have to worry about much. This must be what being free feels like.

Now how could I post anything after that, Marv?

Well, thank god this wasn't very good anyways Just got an idea and scribbled some stuff down so I'd have something to edit later.

Rift Reapers

Crooks have many names amongst people: Evil-doers, villains, the bad guys. We call them Rift Reapers -those who open the doors. Well, more like the ones that rip holes into the walls between the worlds. We don't know how they came to be -one moment there was none, the next we found the first Reaper. And all too soon there was more of them. There's something in them that allows them to bring objects and creatures from other worlds into ours with a simple thought. I don't know how, I doubt anyone does, but I do know it hasn't been a good thing. Not at all.

We do our best to repair the rifts the Reapers leave behind, to banish whatever they happen to call forth. I suppose that's why people have started to call us Healers, heroes of our world. I guess it's understandable, we are trying to protect our world after all.
No one knows how we're able to banish what the Reapers can create. Or what really happens. Do we kill them? Send them back to their worlds? Or maybe we simply erase their code from the universe. I guess that would be a more appropriate title -Eraser.

I was discovered when I banished our neighbour's dog. I was two, and got scared when it licked my face, though my supervisor would say it was all a lie if he knew I was told this. I guess it explains why I'm so good at what I do, why banishing Reapers and their creations has never been a problem to me. I didn't even have a problem banishing the Reaper that told me about my past. I seem to be a natural. But I do sometimes wonder where that dog ended up.

The Reapers are sadistic monsters who only want to create chaos and destruction. That's what they've told us many times along the road. Almost always it has been true, at least if you ask their victims. And I, too, used to be sure about it. Unfortunately I haven't been too sure about anything lately. But right now, when I'm standing here covered in the blood of a young unicorn, when the pale blue eyes of the little girl in front of me are starting to understand what ”death” means... Now I know that I'm on the wrong side.

They are all good.

Marv, yours was awsome.

and Darkness_of_Heart, yours was cery good.

keep it up!!!

Cery good eh -cool

I think mine lacks flow and style But thanks.

Thanks, Darkness and darkqueen

Darkness: There's only one thing I have to say about your story: It's too short. I want more! Please? ^^ Pretty please? With cherries on top? ^^

Make it chocolate and I might give it a thought -I don't like cherries

My "short" stories usually end up getting at least twice as long, so we'll see what happens after a month or six lol I did get a bunch of ideas with this one, a collection of short stories about the rifts, but it's all a bit too vague at the moment.

Damn, and here I am, having just run out of chocolate
If you ask me, that 'universe' might be big enough for more than a few short stories... from all I've understood so far (which is, as I said, just enough to make me want more ^^)

Well, coming up with quantity is not a problem to me Trying to remember all of it, now there's a slight problem

I hear ya. And the next problem is feeling like writing it down at all, right?

Well of course, what else could you expect?

Here is a short piece I wrote today. Maybe it should be in the Poetry thread...


A Stranger’s skin

One look
One smile
So easy

A stranger’s skin
Longing
„You smell good“
Desire

„I want you“
Taste
Touch
No room for shame
No regrets?

Kisses
Whispers
Unspoken promises
Lust

His hands on my body
Exploring
I close my eyes
Fantasize
You are so far away

Sweat
Feel
Be alive
„Fuck me“
Memories

As day breaks
Guilt sets in
I’m missing you.

I read many magnificent works here!

I enjoyed very, very, very much Where Do We Draw the Line? and Tobacco Road, and... the rest of work influenced in some sense by Poets songs.
(one secret: I listened the song, while I was reading the story with the same name...)

Everybody, keep writing. I’d love to read more.

Thank you

Did you have WDWDTL on repeat or did you listen to it at half the speed to make it play as long as it took you to read the story?

Will do.

i finally have got to read some of them!

marvin, yours was good, as expected from your last work, Dawn. very good very good. i enjoy your work very much

Darkness of Heart.......PLEASE....pretty please write some more. i beg you, i don't want the story to end there. what you have created sounds fantastic and a few more passages would be wonderful.

redbossfan, yours COULD almost be in the poetry thread, but i like it even better here. your style of writing is very interesting.

i enjoy reading all of these so much. i missed you guys

I had WDWDTL on repeat...

Everyones was great!!!! Keep writing.

So I really have no writing to give today but I thought I would share this idea I'm getting. I'm going to try and write a musical using songs by the Smashing Pumpkins kinda like All Shook Up used Elvis and Across the Universe used the Beatles. It's about a small group of people and the turmoils they face due to the realities of the world, abuse, drugs, death, cheating, depression, disease, loss, and war.

I have bios for my characters so I'll share them:

James: a struggling complicated person, emotionally wrecked, artistic and soft spoken. A warm hearted person with a troubled past and an almost infatuation with his sadness (based off of myself and Billy Corgan)

Ava: complicated woman, never happy with what she has which ultimately forces her to get into bad situations, brings herself to self destruction, drugs and her actions always hurt those closest to her. She is dating James.

Glass: James' closest friend, and one of the only people James can trust, he is shipping off to war.

Martha: James' mother, suffering from a disease and a complete train wreck since the death of her beloved husband (James' father) Chris. Silent and lost.

Zero: the man who'm Ava cheats on James with. An abusive, sexual, drug addict.

Jen: a woman who'm James begins to fall for. Outspoken, social, yet alienated. There are deep rooted problems within her.

Christine: the wife of Glass, confused and lost due to Glass' shipping off to war. Looks to Ava and James for help.

Smashing Pumpkins fans will notice some names are taken from songs and other SP related things. Glass is the name of a character from Glass and the Ghost Children an animated series focusing on the concept album Machina. Zero is the name of a song by the Smashing Pumpkins. Ava is taken from the song Ava Adore, and Martha is the name of Billy Corgan's mother who died and had the song For Martha dedicated to her memory.

Another great one from you DMCMaster, it was great!!! come of the names ring a bell from some books i read a lot too. they are great names.

thanks yeah it's in the working process still to me it's the best idea i have had for any story or anything I just got this idea of how cool it would be to make a musical with songs by Smashing Pumpkins and it took flight and has grown into one of the more complex and emotional story ideas I've ever had.

Thank you for saying the names were great, odd thing about this story too is the names came really easily.