Jul 22


At birth, children are given cards to play during their lifetime.
Some gamble them away; some use them wisely; some have theirs stolen before they've even come of age.
The way they use their cards determine their entire life. Some come into vast amounts of wealth before they've even popped a pimple; some have already been sold into slavery before they've moved into middle school. 
Sometimes, their parents will play their cards for them. To the parent's gain, or the child's, it's never clear. 

"Morrow, you've got to be kidding! You stole that kid's future!" My indignant words didn't seem to faze the other figure standing next to me. He looked over, his dark eyes and his smile reflected in the screen in front of us.

Jul 21


It all happened so suddenly.
The police firing on the students, the bodies of children as young as seven years old hitting the pavement. Bullets flew over my head only to hit someone an inch taller than I was. I was at the front of the march.
The screams, oh the screams.
They were everywhere, shattering my eardrums with their intensity. Blood, not from a bullet wound, but from my ears trickled down my face, parallel to my tears. I hit the pavement as the person behind me fell on top of me, the hard buttons of her school uniform pressing against my back. The sign she had been holding clattered to the ground, her head landing right next to my terrified fast.
A hole was shot clear through her nose, her dead eyes staring straight into mine. I stifled a scream, not willing to add to the loud cacophony of voices above and around me. 
Jul 19

Scene Dump - Mattson

this is yet another scene dump with characters from The Wildlands.  its mostly a self-indulgent scene but i've been meaning to write it for a while.

this details the wedding (called the 'ceremony') between matt and crysto as well as a cliffhanger to the battle right after it. this happens directly before the siege on the village and
meche's labor and subsequent passing. rip meche. love you tho

do forgive me if I don't explain everything. when I piece together all the parts of Wildlands it will all make sense.

I woke up to the hustle and bustle of a busy little village. Men ordering women to get out of the way, subsequent whams upside the mens' heads as the women left, children chasing each other down to help build something.
Jul 17

Three-Day Fling

I felt something
 I had only felt

Sadness coursed
 through my veins
 making itself known.

 My friend's eyes
 welled with tears,
 her face swollen
 and red.

My other friend was turned away,
 trying not to look at her again.
She's going away again.
 She was only visiting.

 She tells me, "Why did it have to be him,
and not someone from back home?"
I look back to my friend, walking away.

He's going back to his house,
to get ready for soccer,
to get ready to forget this three-day fling.

Yesterday didn't even count,
the pool wasn't open.
Lightning ran the sky,
thunder shaking the earth.

Her and him knew today was lost.
And now, I cry for both of them
victims of love separated by states.

It didn't feel like a fling to them.

Flings don't call out
Jul 17

Scene Dump - Meche

a bit of a warning - this glosses over rape. I'm not going to detail everything because I consider that unnecessary, but if you feel uncomfortable with the descriptions of the aftermath of such a horrendous event, I ask that you not read this.
this is not meant to normalize or approve rape in any way. it is a disgusting act that should never be forced upon a human being. 
thank you.

"Meche, are you sure you're okay?" Corrin held her hand to my head, eyes worried. Her long hair was swept over her shoulder, the feathers and beads decorating it coming too. Her lilting accent made me realize that I probably had one too. "You don't have a fever?"

"I'm fine," I told her, brushing her hand away. Her eyes widened, and then she gave up.

Jul 17

Flesh Eaters

Flesh eaters are everywhere,
they rot your skin,
your bones,
your nails and your hair.

They eat your brain,
taking your memories as
your life is stolen from you.

Is this not something that happens?
Do you not forget things?
Do you not fade with time?
You can't see the flesh eaters, 
but you can see their effects.

You gradually become weaker
as more feed on you.
Walk into a nursing home,
they're everywhere.

Age is not something you can see.
But you can see what it does.
It'll take every bit of you,
until only your family can remember you.
And then it takes your family.
Jul 16


The children's eyes were blank, set upon the man they surrounded. They all held weapons and stomped the ground in the same rhythm, their voices following one another with false sincerity, true sound, and neutral words.

"What do we do with a drunken savior?
What do we do with a drunken savior?
What do we do with a drunken savior?
‎Oh, what do we do with a drunken savior,
‎at this time-a night?"

In tandem, the army of kids raised their weapons - cleavers, axes too large for them, swords stolen from fathers, guns from their older brothers. Knives from the kitchen cupboard. Things that should have been too heavy for them were wielded with ease.

Together, they murmured the last verses of their song, eyes almost falling shut.

"Up and down, his chest still rises,
Up and down, his chest still rises,
Up and down, his chest still rises,
At this time-a night."
Jul 16


The price of perfection is a lofty one, one that demands time, patience, energy. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Some people are more gifted than others, some had a head start that many didn’t possess.

“You want to see what perfection costs?” The angel-like girl murmured, her lips the color of blood. Her eyes were an emerald green and were framed by long, silver lashes. Her hair was so long it drifted off of the white sheets of the bed and onto the pristine floor, silver against white. When her eyes finally met mine, they were half-lidded and hazy. Her skin was fair, complementing the rest of her complexion. Her body was thin, hardly any flesh on her bones. The sheets around her covered her midsection as she sat facing me; the flowing dress she wore was the color of freshly-fallen snow. She was widely regarded as perfection personified and never left her haven. In fear of what, I did not know. No one did.
Jul 16


lol i'll update this sometime.

Your best friend has to leave town and they won't tell you why. When you start to investigate, you find something you never wanted to see.

You go through your old clothes. What do you find? What's your favorite shirt?

You get a single ticket to a concert. Where would you go? Who would you see?

"Is it supposed to be beeping?" "We're in a hospital, Jerry." "An abandoned one." 

Your first child doesn't look like you or your spouse. It turns out it's a changeling and you need to get your real child back. How do you?

Your sunburn turns your skin bright green and you have school the next day. What do you do?

A butterfly lands on your nose and whispers, "You need to run." 

You wake up and underneath your pillow is a bird's wing. You look out the window, what do you see?
Jul 15


"What do you mean you can't help me?" The child asked, his brown eyes already flooding with tears. His voice was small, timid, frightened. He was so young, it was hard for me to tell him.

"I'm sorry, I can't," I told him, coming down to a knee - he was now a few inches taller than I was. My bare knee touched the cold ground and I shivered involuntarily. "I can't help you."

The boy wiped at his tears, his claw-like hands nearly slicing open his cheeks. His hands, unlike those of a 'normal' child, had fused with his twin, Terry, in the womb. His whole body had reminders of his unborn sister. Terry's face on the back of his head was crying too. Noiselessly. Her arms had fused to his, her legs, her back. Even reaching for the rusted dinner fork was a reminder that he was the only to survive.