Showing posts with label place. Show all posts
The floors are white
they are coherent with the light.
Everywhere is filled with clean
your souls screech on the floor so mean.

The smell is strong
to like it would feel wrong.
You find yourself looking from left to right
wondering when or whose going to put up a fight.

You feel like you don't belong
almost like you're in a music video of some song.
Everything seems so fake
just for the professions sake.

This  place that I am at
a white bench that I'm sat.
White on the walls
doors and especially the floors.

White Walls

Saturday, 26 December 2015

What is Creativity?
 I personally believe creativity coincides with your imagination. Creativity is the true expression of yourself. It is an escape, and an indistinguishable feeling.

Are you creative? If so how and why?
I am creative. My imagination is my portal into other worlds, its my ticket to adventures and expressing myself, truly expressing myself. Creativity takes me from everyday life, it pulsates through me as my hand moves twenty to a dozen with a pen across a page. It's my never ending thoughts and day dreams where I am never really truly present, instead I am thought deep is stories and imaginative plots.

Where do you write?
I physically write whenever I feel like it, if it be when I am in a library, on a bus or my usual place of thought in my bedroom. My writing is in journals, my blog, many word documents and wattpad. My laptop gives me access to all of it.

When is the best time for writing?
The best time for me to write is usually midday, it isn't too early nor too late. My inspirations and inklings of ideas same to reach almost always around midday, plus it is when I feel best.

How often do you write?
I write on a daily basis, pretty much most days. If it be a blog post, a journal entry, or even a paragraph or two on one of my stories. Writing plays a huge part in my life and happiness, so I try to do as much as it as I possibly can.

Some questions I answered, all personal answers. If you were asked these questions what would be your answers?

Creativity?

Thursday, 24 September 2015

Graveyard.
Death lurks everywhere, the moment you step inside your doomed. A creature waits for an innocent soul, waiting to pounce, waiting to destroy. Wait but nothing really is what it seems.
Through the day the graveyard hides the monsters that live within. The constant death prominent. Stones of memory. Stones which hold them.
No one ever dares to enter when it turns dark, they don't know what to expect. No one has ever exploited the unknown of the graveyard after Ten PM! Until now...
Her pulse rises, her head hazed as the drink takes it's course. Men grope at her, she laughs and dances, the night is well. Her birthday party, finally sixteen, too young to be out with such people.
It's only nine but she's had one drink too many, even though she is tumbling everywhere she still goes back to the bar for more. She looks far too old for her age.
She steps outside, something springs inside her, something within het commands her to move. She follows the pavement oblivious to where she is going.
The night darkens, the stars are the only lights alongside the random blinks of the tall street lights. The force pulls her to one place she stands wondering why she is standing in front of big rusted gates.
She knows what is kept behind these spider covered bars. The graveyard, she's a brave girl, scared of nothing. If anything she feels allured to the place, like every night. But this night she is actually entering.
With a hearty push the gate swings open with an annoying creak. The pavement is stoned, echoes are made as her heels clatter at her every step. She shortly gets annoyed and takes them off, throwing them aside.
She walks bare foot, the sky shines above her, she feels at peace, she feels bliss. How could a human feel such a thing in such a place?
The long pavement becomes narrow, the stones are in sight. She walks along slowly reading each one, fire flies dance around each one as if they were calling something or someone.
It isn't as scary as people think, it's peaceful and somewhat pretty, the fireflies follow her every step as if she was their queen.
A bench near a tree catches her eye, her legs suddenly feel num, a spell of dizziness tinkers at her head. She walks over, sitting down. Taking everything in, she begins to feel better.
Owls sit in the tree staring, the good night song of the mockingbird reaches out. She sits back and listens.
"It's beautiful isn't it?" A sudden voice makes her jump.
A man or what looks like a man is sitting beside her, he's not much older than she is. He is pale, transparent almost. Grey eyes with a sad smile, his silver tinted hair sticking in all directions. He has a big build but the way he is slouching makes him look small and fragile.
"Yeah it is, do you come here often?" She speaks over her nerves.
"Every night..." He says distantly staring at the ball of cheese in the sky.
"How come? Do you have a loved one buried here?" She asks curiously.
"I live here..." He doesn't meet her eyes, she doesn't get the hint and assumes he's a gate keeper.
"I don't usually come here..." She admits.
"I noticed, I would say this isn't the place for someone of your age but I'm here and I like it, although I can't leave, the only drawback of living in the graveyard." This time his eyes meet hers.
"What do you mean? Can't you just go through the gates, they aren't locked?"
He laughs, he reaches out for her hand. Instead of skin to skin contact his hand floats through hers, he's a ghost.
She smiles at him, she's not scared if anything she thinks he's beautiful. He looks at her with his eyes shimmering, his sad smile becomes happy.
This is everything she could ever want, she feels like she is herself in here and he looks awfully lonely.
"Can I join you? We can stay here forever together..." She asks, he smiles.
Fire flies surround her lifting from the ground, she floats and glows. They swish and flick against her until she black's out. She wakes up laying under a tree. She sits up, she isn't touching the leaves beneath her, she's floating.
He appears, she is now the transparent white, with grey hair and eyes. Together they shine perfectly, together as if they had been all along.
The graveyard, their graveyard. Every night they will come alive and bring the life of the nature within the graveyard with them.
Isn't it beautiful?

Graveyard

Thursday, 17 September 2015