Sep 15
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brief history of montmaray REWORKED beginning

same book. 
couple things: first, YES i am giving you nineteen pages of screenplay. i have no shame. 
second, this is a reworked version of the montmaray thingy that i wrote a while ago. i got a comment on it today and thought, oh hey, i rewrote this even better! why not put the new one up to compare! it might be even worse. just another version. 
third, it cuts off abruptly because i left it in the middle of a scene and didn't bother coming back and the books went back to the library so i didn't keep going. 
potentially enjoy? 
not my ideas, based off the novel series by michelle cooper


Title: “A Brief History of Montmaray. by Veronica FitzOsborne.”


Fragments of a ship are washing up onto the beach. Clinging to one of them is a well-dressed and bedraggled man: SIR BARTHOLOMEW FITZOSBORNE.
Sep 14
Fiona Ella's picture


i was going
to write. 
i had all these ideas
swimming around in my head. 
then i sat down at the computer
cued up my music
and stared at my google docs homescreen. 
brain blank. 
it oozed away
just like my time does
into nothing. 
empty head
and so, so many
half-finished documents
Sep 13
Fiona Ella's picture

made this

a song. i'm worried that i stole the melody from somewhere but i don't think i did, i think i just took inspiration from somewhere. 
anyways. hope it's all right. i want to make it a little less chunky and transition from section to section better. and i should really just permanently turn down the glock...
Sep 11
Fiona Ella's picture

a couple poems i wrote in school

so i started high school just recently. which has been weird. and i haven't gotten to write anything, or thought of anything that i want to write. these are two poems i scribbled out while bored in ACE block, which aren't really relevant to anything but they helped me to relax. so, voila. here. 

ACE block
and i don't fit here
among these people
older, more experienced
me a small insignificant dot
out of her depth
oh why did i think
i could handle

decisions, having to make them
like they're nothing
(they are)
but that dosn't mean they don't
for some reason
frighten me. 
out in the halls
passing time over
but people still hurry back and forth
shrieking laughter
high-pitched chattering voices.
(is everyone in this whole wing
...i already had a headache. 
i haven't bothered
trying to fit in
Sep 04
Fiona Ella's picture


i felt naked
watching my hair wash down the bathtub drain. 
like i was having something stripped away from me. 
my legs looked pale and defenseless,
the skin too smooth. 
not like me. 
not like me at all. 
the little freckle on my right shin
too large
too prominent
i didn't want this. 
didn't want to have to shave my legs. 
i would have been content
to remain an eternal gorilla.
at least in terms of hair. 
but i'm told that society demands
that the only acceptable place for hair
is the top of my head
and i know that i live in a climate
where wearing jeans all year
will make me unhappy
and demand that i feel
as though i am hiding something. 
but my legs look all wrong
i feel as though i have lost something. 

Sep 04
Fiona Ella's picture

a few more songs

Sep 03
Fiona Ella's picture

the floor/london aftermath

the floor
does not want to stay flat and still
like a floor should. 
it bobs and shifts under me. 
my head feels kind of wobbly. 
too much time on a plane
preceded by lots of time on public transportation? 
or maybe it was all the elevators. 
"door opening."
"door closing."
"tenth floor."
"going up." 
that robotic voice
just lodges in your ears. 
too much time
being the only sober person
in a room full of drunken adults
i just wanted to be alone somewhere quiet
wandering through the churchill war rooms
too tired to be impressed
the audio guide made me feel like a sheep. 
even chocolate cigars
could hardly revitalize me. 
hundreds of different languages
wrapping all around, 
almost overpowering. 
giacometti exhibit, 
long thin figures
that look like they're heaving to stay upright,
Sep 01
Fiona Ella's picture


is such a funny idea.
not bad, 
just sometimes puzzling. 
how some people
you are conditionally told
to love more than others 
how there are so many
and only that one word
to describe them all.
and how some people
cant see it
and others 
and how the words
"i love you"
can feel like a terrible burden
or a gift. 
and how sometimes
youncant even
identify it. 

is is such a funny idea...
or maybe i only think that
because I can't have a thiught
without thinking
about that thought and thinking
 about my thoughts
about the thought
and on and on. 
and think all sorts of thoughts
most of which are 
too incomprehensible
to write here.
but i do wonder
what all the fuss is
why people fall in love
with the concept of love
Aug 27
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Aug 23
Fiona Ella's picture


my head is full of thoughts
and they're exhausting
sometimes too exhausting
to bother vocalizing. 
my mother is frustrated
by my quietness
says that she misses a time when i 
i don't know what to say
whether to be sorry
that i don't currently feel compelled to babble
that my face feels still and quiet
and lighthearted chatter
feels like too much work.
or whether to argue
saying that it's not fair to ask me
to be someone i'm not
to do something that i don't do
because i used to do that. 
(did i? 
because i don't feel any different
than i used to)
or even whether to try and explain myself.
or maybe, 
i should fake, 
think of something that sounds like 
the kind of thing she says i used to say
and talk about it
even though talk feels exhausting
and i feel tethered to my dreamworld