game

what am I supposed to think,

when all you say is a bunch of lies?

twisted into eachother,

making a sensible reality

even you made yourself believe?

And what am I supposed to think,

when I watch you hurt others,

and then convince yourself,

that they hurt you?

Why would you do this to me?

why would you lie?

what do you want?

a status?

money?

love?

me?

what?

it all doesn't make sense right now.

and maybe you are right,

and they are all wrong.

maybe your reality is better then theirs

so it would be better to just enter it,

and shut myself from where I belong.

No.

You have no right to do this to me.

and while I may be nice on the phone―

don't expect me to be sincere.

Because I'm not.

I'm just like you.

it's a game

that doesn't ever end.

it goes on forever.

like time, we don't stop.

we just tick tock along.

We keep everything shallow

like a pool for small children,

we wade inside and splash eachother.

every splash, a beautiful lie,

every laugh, an angry cry,

every smile, a stuttered sigh.

Why, you ask?

Because it's what we do.

Success
By
Maya Redington

Dribble the ball
Dodge the opponent
Make a run for the basket
Pick up my speed
Set up the shot
Then
Shoot
The ball arks
Through the air
My world goes into slow mo
The ball curving slowly to the hoop
The rock hits the rim
Bouncing lightly off the glass
My slow mo is increasing
The whole game ricocheting
From one end of the hoop
To the other
Behind me
The whistle blows
This
Is
My
Only
Shot
To either
Win the game
Or lose
No turning back
Either all in
Or all out
The ball sways
All eyes on me
And
My shot
Then
Suddenly Read more »

I hear the running of feet and the loud exclamations of teammates. Wind blows past me stirring my hair into my face. I feel hidden no one notices me as I write this. No comments, looks or remarks as I write. Each team shouts at the opponent's plays and actions. The ball sails above the people and everyone watches. It continues to fly throught the air until it has flown over the roofs of the building. The ball disappears. Game over.

Snow flakes &
Flakes of snow
One in the same
Both blamed by name

Open game
They drift lame
Suppressed in shame
Loved in vain

Game

If joy was a color,
it would be bright green,
green as summer grass,
as a mountain range,
as green as money.
If joy was a taste
it would be pancakes and syrup,
on a Saturday morning,
with smiley bacon and eggs.
If joy was a smell,
it would be summer barbeque.
You can’t wait until you get some.
If joy was a sound
it would be a team
making a last second buzzer beater
for the win.
3
2
1
Game.

Logan Martin

A wave in the ocean
A ripple in the blue, shining lake

Is this really anything different

From what our soul would partake?

When the day comes that we realize we're all the same

There will no longer be any sort or form of shame

Because we're all human

And lifes not a game.

Here is my idea.

Write a story where the setting is used, at least once. But where that setting can also be changed with another one, without affecting the story.

You can pick two settings, that then can be switched out without affecting anything else. In this one I have chosen my two settings to be a locker room, and the top of a mountain. This is a very, very short example.

Tom and Fred had been arguing, Tom was so angry he just needed to punch something. Striking out he hit the locker next to him, bruising his knuckles.

Tom and Fred had been arguing, Tom was so angry. He just needed to punch something. Striking out he hit the rock wall next to him, bruising his knuckles.

In the example I used the environment as few times as possible, I.E. once. But you can use it as many times as you feel that you are able to. Read more »