Day and NightDay is forever trying to keep night interested with her shimmering rays and luscious warmth.Day and Night by rociobelindamendez
Shining ever so brightly in hopes of piercing through the barrier that keeps them apart.
Night dreams of day, and spends his time carving holes into the sky so it can watch her.
He waits for the moment she sends her sun to his moon.
––They hold one another as an ode to their masters forbidden love.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
LayersThere are multiple versions of yourself living soundly inside.Layers by rociobelindamendez
A different psyche in altered perceptions, with rules you will abide.
Life somehow implies that we’re strangers; even to ourselves.
A visitor turned host –– they don’t tend to stay themselves.
We must choose adventure, and roam through surging worlds.
A journey to the unknown, where imagination unfurls.
We don’t know much for sure, why pretend we do?
Lying to ourselves to fill the void. Who’s really who?
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
PontificateWe live in reverse.Pontificate by rociobelindamendez
We’re born dead, and grow alive. Perhaps we don’t fear being gone, but instead we fear to start anew.
What’s scarier than something we don’t know? What’s scarier than jumping into it free of will?
To begin and to end, both equal in ambiguity; where does one start if not from itself?
Different words from the same proverbial tree
Too alike in discourse to negate;
life is but to pontificate.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
You're an ocean in one drop.You are not alone in this life. Take the time to realise those who may be counting on your strength, those whose heads fit perfectly on your shoulders, those who need your arms to hold them up.You're an ocean in one drop. by rociobelindamendez
You may be one person in the world, but you could mean the entire world to another, in many different forms. Company is what it comes down to; someone you can be alone with, someone you choose to spend your moments with, people who are more than a chapter in your story, those who are main characters, those who move you, those who linger on.
If you were really alone in this world, you wouldn’t feel alone; you’d feel complete, strong, immense. You would be everything you need, and you would stand tall without realising. You’re not alone, do you understand me? Do you hear me? Do you feel me? We’re both alive in this instant, isn’t that something?
What a crazy notion –– in these billions of years worth of existence, we’ve managed to stumble across each
Parallel - Remember me... (Chapter 1)Parallel - Remember me... (Chapter 1) by JamieGardevoir
Chapter 1: Prologue
20 January 2012
The last thing Morta deleted before everything was gone was itself.
PP: COTF File 3PP: COTF File 3 by JDMWanganPichu
Pokémon Petrolheads: Chronicles of the Fastest - File #3 : White Subaru joins the gang?
9th February 2014
It was two days before the National Foundation Day in Japan, but the day was still in winter. The speed legend continues, as more street racers are approaching into the Tokyo Metropolitan Area.
James Bernard was travelling in his Skull Bullet Camaro, and roaming around. Mitsuhashi Matsuda and Mizutani Akita weren't getting out. It was when the legendary "F1 Killer" was rumored to coming back to the streets, but unknown to others, it was running silently, smoothly and brightly, onto the wide expressways. The hashiriyas were soaked into the lights of expressways too.
At the junkyard, many forgotten legends were "cremated" into the metal scraps, or molten metals (at extreme temperature). These cremated legends were placed into an "urn" - a factory which recycle cars and metals. Others were exported to other countries. Because of this, lesser and lesser of legendary classics wou
PP: COTF File 1PP: COTF File 1 by JDMWanganPichu
Pokémon Petrolheads: Chronicles of the Fastest - File #1 : Skull Bullet Camaro
13th December 2013.
It was "Friday the 13th" before Christmas.
And, the rumoured "Shinden" returns again on Shuto Expressway, blazing around the Bayshore Route.
"Wasn't that Lexus LFA?"
"I don't know. A Corvette perhaps?"
The lies spreaded out throughout the whole Japan.
20th December 2013.
Still before the Christmas, and the Warriors of Kyushu region, Mitsuhashi "Shinden" Matsuda the Minun and Mizutani "Zero-Yon Champ" Akita the Mudkip were blasted through Bayshore Route. And there's a good news, David "Solid Snake" Billiard the Emolga was coming over the states to Japan, and another feared entity, called "Skull Bullet", also comes to Japan after seven years of leaving.
The Skull Bullet, driving an insanely new Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, burning deeply and sleekly, on the Bayshore Route. Mizutani and Mitsuhashi looked at the back, and the Camaro approaches. The yellow LFA and the green sleeper Gallardo throws in
PP: COTF ProloguePP: COTF Prologue by JDMWanganPichu
Pokémon Petrolheads: Chronicles of the Fastest - Prologue
30 November 2011
On the streets of Japan, from the Number 3 Shibuya Line all the way to Ariake, from Inner Circular Route to Bayshore Route, street racers roam around the paved roads, living in the underground life. All of the racers in the cities are varied from specific types or highly trained race teams.
There used to be a rumor or the fastest street racer on the Shuto Expressway, by the name of Magnificent Lightning. His highly powerful Lexus LFA would smoke anything put in its path.
One night, as Magnificent Lightning was racing against a Jaguar XJ220, he vanished, never to be found again. Now, the lies start spreaded through whole Japan.
"Hey, do you happen to know what happened to Magnificent Lightning?"
"Rumor has it he was racing Lionel and had him by a couple of links, but then Lionel has tried to catch up and then... 'BOOM'! Magnificent Lightning was gone. But thats what I've heard. You should ask some of the r
Deep Inside UsDeep inside there is a little girl that never died.Deep Inside Us by streetcamera17
The kind of little girl that liked to play-pretend that she was queen of her own kingdom, although perhaps more warrior than regent, and if she's brave enough, at the end of the day, she can save everyone.
Deep inside there is a little boy that never grew up.
The kind of little boy that ran through his family's garden imagining that the swaths of grass and greenery were the seven seas; conquering and discovering wonders, a pirate prince, unbound and invincible.
As time is wont to do to all of us, we eventually grow up, perhaps some quicker than scheduled but c'est la vie - sometimes that's just how it is. Our world grows smaller, although the knowledge that there is more beyond it increases in proportion. Our fancies simpler, less smiting dragons and more of just learning how to hold on and seize what's left of the day.
We learn that the real battles of this world are rarely black and white and sometimes even getting up from your bed
Air, Purpose and WeaponDon't break a poet's heart.Air, Purpose and Weapon by streetcamera17
Don't wish to break a poet's heart.
We build our lives upon words
and spend every second we breathe
learning how to break apart a language
hundreds of years older than us
and weave it back together to make a new one.
A new one that will encapsulate
the first time you left your fingerprints inside us
simply by the way you walked.
A new language that will paint in bold unapologetic lines
how your name lit the caverns in between our ribcages
and the way it felt in our mouths
- We will own your name.
Break our hearts and someday you'll find a masterpiece
with your picture beside it and the words,
'This is how you hurt me.'
But by then we would have healed from your wounds.
And the immortality that you seek from our poetry
will only result in your infamy.
It will coat your skin in its wet chill as it weeps of the days
we spent broken in our beds.
Everyone will know what you've done
as well as the hows and whys
but it won't be your petty name that will move them.
the way i see youyou don't know it but i write for youthe way i see you by streetcamera17
it is the only way that i can hold you,
let you feel the solidity of yourself
without you shying away.
every sentence that springs from my blood is for you.
it is the only way that i can kiss your eyelids
easing your beautiful terrible weighty gaze
that stares out into the darkened world with open questions,
watching for a god you barely believe exists
i cannot give you your religion, your peace
but my eyes see the shadows cast upon your shuddering body
the cruel way we can love
there's an old claustrophobia to your restless hands
and knotted shoulder muscles
a hollow hunger gaping ravenous in the small center of your back
you are not alone
you are alive and loved
there is so much bravery and thriving
a tenderness and kindness and desire for joy
that you manifest in gentle increments more often
than you realise
all i can give you is this, my sight
the photograph of how i see you
and i will never let you be what they made you
Nebula You look like something I created in my head.Nebula by streetcamera17
A nebula cracking a line through that bit of the cosmos
beyond the sky.
A thin break of black, true black,
running through the aether,
not emptiness but darkness,
Darkness too thick to see through,
Too dark to be anything but solid
But in between the ragged seams,
The RiverThe RiverThe River by NinjaWithCheese
A hand reaches out of the dark, grabs you by the wrist drawing you into shadows, disappearing quickly as it came.
“Don’t go by the river, they told you. Don’t go by the river if you love your wife. You’ll leave that girl a widow, cause her pain and strife.” Says a voice from the darkness. “Don’t go by the river you’ll be sorry if you do. They told you.”
“Yes they did.” You reply nervously.
“And yet here you are.” Bright white teeth appear in the darkness as something cracks a devilish smile. “Do you know why they told you not to go by that riverside?”
“What do you want?” You ask, staring at those teeth glinting in the moonlight.
“It’s not about what I want,” The voice tells you, “It’s about what you want.”
“Who are you?” You ask.
“Oh I have many names, I am all the things from these swampy black lagoons. Some
BandiCrazy-Ch. 1 Part. 3BandiCrazy-Ch. 1 Part. 3 by GirlCrash97
Crash heard a strange sound, a kind of alarm and the cages were opened.
"What's up? There free at last? " asked Coco.
Suddenly arrived two henchmen holding bifurcates sticks that emit electricity.
"Take it as a no," added Crash browsing through the two figures who approached.
"It's time the Outdoors" added Rex.
All animals were forced to come out and taken to a gigantic Garden on a huge terrace.
Crash and Coco were surprised to see a place like this.
"Each evening bring us out here, I don't know why, but at least we can breathe fresh air," said Rex.
Suddenly a female raccoon that arrived with all his euphoria greeted. "HI GUYS!"
Crash and Coco looked her so strange.
"She's Ginny" explained Rex "Was a pet to Cortex's niece, then was brought here and the nephew were cut their hands"
Crash was shocked by the story enough to move away to reach peaceful Tawna that he was on an artificial mound.
"Ginny, you got scared," said Rex at the female racoon.
"I? But it is you who tell ev
He was beautiful and he loved me and he was mineIt's 12:50am and my dog just died.He was beautiful and he loved me and he was mine by streetcamera17
My dog just died and 13 hours ago I ignored him when I left the house because I was in a hurry and he was just curled up in the corner, silently watching me as I backed out the garage. That wasn't unusual. He was always a quiet, gentle dog. He rarely ever barked. He never bit, not even in jest.
He never caused a ruckus nor fought for attention. He loved you by randomly reaching out and putting a single, solitary paw on your arm or leg, staring up at you with big hazel brown eyes as he did so. Did you know that his eyes were my favourite feature of his? They were always so incredibly human. With most dogs, you can only see a hint of the sclera - the white part of the eyes. With most dogs, you usually only see the iris and pupil. With Spotty, you could see nearly the same balance of sclera, iris and pupil that you do with mine and yours and every other human being's out there.
Yes, his name was Spotty and it's one of the most unimaginative dog names out
WitnessSome paintings act as clocks; sentinels and witnesses to the passing of time. If you open yourself to it, you will find the variations in texture, the subtle differences in colour and shade telling you of the weather and the turmoil or open air peace; one edge sun-bleached, the other cracked and flaking, barely holding the pigments together. Some parts still smooth, the brushstrokes and tiny blobs of paint are bold underneath your questing fingertips.Witness by streetcamera17
People are like that too. We are living memorials of every strange and terrible and hopeful thing we've gone through. Every scar, every freckle, every wrinkle and darkened patch of skin are testaments to the roads that have led us to where we are now. The human mind abhors space, we recoil from blankness and emptiness so our minds choose to throw onto it all the hidden treks and theatre productions and summer songs we usually are not aware of. It's part of the reason why virginal innocence is so valued. Because it's a blank canvas for us
DareIt was, and always will be, about the potential; the ecstatic flightDare by streetcamera17
of pushing against the boundaries of ambition and knowledge and power and capacity.
We all live to die but before Icarus fell, he dared.
These Softer DreamingsSometimes I look up at the moon and feel the urge to raise my arms to it and just say, 'Come. Go, take my soul. Take me up to you. Let me dance past the smoke and debris, through the clouds and break beyond the atmosphere onto your surface and there, meet the one I will love forever.'These Softer Dreamings by streetcamera17
And I imagine that up there, backlit by the stars and surrounded by soft diamond dust, we will carelessly kiss. Discovering all the ways one can confess whatever needs to be let known without being bound by the complications and limitations of language; just the honesty of arms and heartbeats and gazes.
Before linking hands and inextricably tying together our shared laughter, we head back down to the messiness of this cherished, enduring dot to affirm and reaffirm it all for as long as it needs to be done, for as long as we possibly can. Learning and understanding each other (because in these soft dreamings, it is the understanding that is important) down to our DNA and the whorls of our fingerprin
HomeHome is not a place of birth nor shared bloodlines.Home by streetcamera17
Home is a place you choose
- a place where you can wear your own skin
(undercoat and scales and armour and all, because we know that the human surface is more than epithelial cells) and feel safe enough within it to let your heart be tender and soft and foolish and gentle.
Home is about allowing
- where the people that make it up can be clumsy and broken and strange and half-mended but they're all weird and cartwheeling up the hill together.
At the end of the day, it's about having somethingsomewheresomeone that you can haul off to after the nightmares. Somethingsomewheresomeone who can translate the inscriptions writ at the corners and creases of your eyes and breathe alongside your every quivering exhalation.
Home is about the finding and seeing,
the saving and keeping
Of Innocence and Greyscale DreamsI can hear the air con engine above everything else. Its voice living louder than my professor's who is three feet away from me in this tiny plot of 23 students. If I let myself drift I can hear the video documentary playing in the next room. It plays like an old radio and images flicker in my mind in black and white. Like in a 50s era flashback, I can see bored students in starched shirts and pressed dresses, staring without seeing at the antique light box. Cartoons weren't mindless enough yet to capture anyone above one. They dreamt of other things. They dreamt of running through grimy city streets with kites and strung-together old cans. They dreamt of the noise of their laughter with the click-clack of shoes against pavement. Candy was the currency and kids could be cruel without actually causing any harm. Damage was a thing that could be fixed and light shows were all it took to feel eternity.Of Innocence and Greyscale Dreams by streetcamera17
They were innocent and innocence is in not knowing that the world can hurt you. No one h
Kingdom Hearts 2 The Little Engine That Could pt1Part 1Kingdom Hearts 2 The Little Engine That Could pt1 by dragonofbrainstorms
*It was early in the morning when a little boy named Eric was reading a book. Then his older sister Jill comes in*
Jill: *smirks* Whatcha reading, Eric?
Eric: *smiles* About the little engine and the toys it brings! It's a birthday train and tomorrow's my birthday!
Jill: *smirks teasingly* Ha ha! Birthday train full of toys? I just can't believe you're really believe that.
Eric: Sure I do. It'll come!
Jill: *walks away from him* Don't hold your breath. *her right hand holds the door and turn her head to her little brother, Eric* This is not gonna be any little engines or birthday trains gonna be here.
Eric: It'll come. I know it will! I know it will! I know it will! I know it will!
*After the appearance of the world name know as Train Yard Express, we see Sora, Donald Duck, and Goofy walking through a forest close to a train yard*
Sora: I wonder where we are now?
Donald: I don't know.
Goofy: Gawrsh me either.
?????: *Loud whistle noise* TO WORK! TO WORK!
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Welcome to Writers Universal! I'm Bluejay.
Because we need some specific guidelines for this group, I'll post them here. Please read before submitting!
- If your work contains any nudity/swearing etc, please mark it mature.
- No extreme gore or horror is allowed.
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- Don't submit more than 5 works per week. We'll increase the submission numbers once the folders are cleared.
- Put stuff in the right folder...
- AND... Have fun!