Jan 24
fiction 0 comments challenge: Love
Hannah Campbell's picture

Homo Humerala

I hate being fussed over just because of two feathery lumps sticking out of my back. I don’t know why they’re there, I didn’t ask for them, but. . . when no one’s looking, and I’m all alone, I like to spread my wings and stretch them. I turn around to look at them, feeling the small gusts of wind that hit my face when I flap them.

And I don’t know much about aerodynamics, either, but I can fly.

But I rarely do―only when we go on some family camping trip, my parents and I, do I just occasionally glide through the air. High up in the mountains. I'm as lucky as the free-flying buteos then. 

Aside, from that, though, nothing good ever comes from openly flaunting my wings.
Jan 23
Hannah Campbell's picture

Woman In Central Park - Winter

This is a drawing with pens and PrismaColor colored pencils. I started it out from a sketch where I messed up right away, and it devolved into a woman watching a pigeon taking off in Central Park, which I've never actually seen before. That's just how I'd imagine it to look like. 
The only problem is the camera, which is absolutely terrible so the color's a bit off and the shading looks a bit different. 


Jan 19
Hannah Campbell's picture

Aesthetics Around Us

The beauty of a single thing 
can be reflected everywhere
From the reflections of a sprout on a falling water droplet, 
to the beads of light which spill out from a prism,

or the vivid beating of a monarch's wings
and the flitting blue-green eyes of the tabby cat,
which follows the butterfly's progress.

It's the beauty of triumph
taken by a snail 
when he finishs crossing the rotting log.

Beauty can be the sound of waves slamming against the shore
like the hooves of white horses sprinting across the ground.

It's also shown in the joy of a young child's face
when they learn something new,
or when we savor the moment where we finish the last question
of a test.

It's the beauty of completion
when we finish the final pen stroke on our drawings,
or pencil in the last word of a story.

 
Jan 11
poem 0 comments challenge: Belief
Hannah Campbell's picture

Home Is a Place to Cry

Home is a place to cry.

If at home, we cannot cry,
Where are we supposed to go?

Do we go up to strangers, and cry upon their shoulders?
Or should we lock ourselves in the bathroom,
Silently raging at the mirror,
Cursing at it, cursing our luck. 

Home is a place to be angry. 

If at home, we cannot be angry.
Where are we supposed to go?

Should we take furious deep breaths trying to quell our inner beast?
Or do feel the pounding, pulsating of our veins, become our own minute suns,
Collapse upon ourself--and suddenly become even bigger and more fiery,
then spill over, ablaze with hushed-up, indignant fury?

Home is a place to have peace.

If at home, we cannot find tranquility,
Where are we supposed to go?

Do we go out to take a walk, on these noisy city streets?
Or should we fortify our room with blankets, trying to ignore the talking-box
Jan 07
Hannah Campbell's picture

Dress Codes

Dress codes. 
Screw them.
Useless rules, like "your shorts must reach your fingertips", or "your shirt straps must be at least two fingers wide".
Are we now afraid of women's shoulders, scandalized, like we used to be about elbows? Really, is this the 1800's? Are we going to have a panic attack when you can see someone's bra strap? I mean, it's an article of clothing. It's not like I took out a knife and stabbed your eyes; this is supposed to be a "free" country, so who cares if I wear a tank top whose straps are only "one finger wide".
Dec 17
Hannah Campbell's picture

Fanfiction (Harry Potter) - TBC

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Grey shouted frantically.
          "It won't work! It doesn't work against the Blast-Ended Skrewt's armor!" called out Terra from outside of the high-walled pen. "You have to hit its underside!"
Grey dodged around, ducking in the nick of time out of the Blast-Ended Skrewt's stinger. How am I supposed to Stun it if it won't stop moving for just one second?
Then she remembered something from Defense Against the Dark Arts: "Alarte Ascendare!" she yelled, willing it to work.
          . . . And it did! The huge, hard-shelled beast flew high into the air as the spell whooshed out of her wand, and while it squirmed around she took the shot to Stun it, sending a jet of red light hitting it square on its pale, unarmored underside.
Dec 15
Hannah Campbell's picture

"Ouch!"


"Ouch!" she yelped. 
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe. 
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe on the fallen candelabra. 
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe on the fallen candelabra, thinking she shouldn't have gone into the haunted house. 
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe on the fallen candelabra, thinking she shouldn't have gone into the haunted house where rumours were abound.
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe on the fallen candelabra, thinking she shouldn't have gone into the haunted house where rumours were abound that there was the ghost of an old woman and her cat. 
"Ouch!" she yelped after stubbing her toe on the fallen candelabra, thinking she shouldn't have gone into the haunted house where rumours were abound that there was the ghost of an old woman and her cat, both thirsty for revenge.
Dec 08
Hannah Campbell's picture

Fanfiction (Warriors)

When I was younger (nine/ten), I used to love the Warrior Cats series, so I thought it would be fine to write a piece of fanfiction for it when I saw the prompt. 
---

Silverstar held up his tail for silence, his large grey ears twitching as they yearned for any sound; a slight rustling in the brambles, or the crackling of leaves beneath paws.
"This is where I heard he said they would be," muttered Nightdash, anxiously shuffling his paws.
Then, suddenly as Silverstar had turned his body to head back to camp, the two cats heard meowing several fox-lengths away, bodies concealed by the branches.
"Come on, quietly," hissed Silverstar, his large silver body pressed against the earth. 
Nightdash followed, his black-furred belly almost grazing the ground.
"Their camp is a gorge, a little ways into the forest past this hill," said on of the hushed voices.

Dec 05
Hannah Campbell's picture

Light

I care for you all, just as I care for every single living creature out there. Every single one. Because deep on the inside, there is an uncorrupted light, the same from infant hood. However, it will always become distorted and blinded, which is the darkness that is in everyone, when it feeds off more darkness and becomes overgrown. 

You see, darkness is only natural--it is in every soul and spirit and creature who is living. It keeps the balance in our world; it is only our worst enemy when it becomes an overhanging shadow above all of our heads. 
Dec 01
Hannah Campbell's picture

'Twas The Midnight After Black Friday

Still working on making this sensical and on making it rhyme. 06/11/2016.
 


'Twas the midnight after Black Friday, when all through stores nationwide,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a single child cried;

The display windows were broken, glass scattered without a care,

From greedy shoppers’ hopes that soon, carts would congest there;

The employees were ragged, worn through from the day said;

While visions of angry customers danced in their heads;

And the store manager in her Wal-Mart t-shirt, and I in my sweatshirt,

Had just settled our brains from our customers' subvert,

When out in the parking lot there arose such a clatter,

I'd sprang from my post to see what was the matter.

Away to the doors I flew to see if its looks I could catch,

Then flashed I the fluorescent lights and unlocked the hatch.

Pages