Came up with this yesterday, pretty simple concept too. All you have to do is think of a quote/poem/short story, whatever, and just write it down. (You could even make a book by making a page a day!) I'll start with a quote that I made yesterday.



So I know this idea may be strange, but just challenge yourself.

Sounds fun!
Please critique this "suspense driven narrative" I wrote for a class last year.

Lots and lots of reflection, mirrors, so many mirrors. Jenny might get lost in here, stuck in between the mirrors, in one of those infinite fragile prisons; if her mind was stuck her body could never free itself. She’d be poised there, in some embarrassing spontaneous posture, for all the world to see, stretched across screens in Times Square and projected in the previews of movie theatres. Maybe they’d want her for charity, a comic showpiece, the new Hellen Keller, but never anything respectable. Mirrors, however, would not be her downfall. She knew mirrors; she was beautiful. She remembered the gold and rose hues of antiques, the silver backing, the physics of illumination. How could any number of shallow reflections capture their real counterpart. But still, they bothered her. They moved just as she moved, precisely, but with a chained, reluctant air, as if they wanted to stop, shying from their borders.
Jenny strode down the hall, eyes locked forward on the clean white bed ahead, surrounded by doctors, who waved and gestured to her as she approached. Why they put those distracting mirrors in hospital rooms she never knew. Four flower borders stapled into a frame, making light of your horror, spoiling any sanctity, surrounding a mirror so clean and new that it takes a snapshot of you rushing down the aisle, hair scattered, face screwed up and ugly, and you see it and never forget it. Right before you is that wretched primate that you’ve spent all of your time distancing yourself from, totally dissociated from your body, chin and neck connected through a grimace, beyond pitiable, stripped of all culture and society, at the mercy of the hospital staff.
To some linoleum is slippery, but Jenny moved across it with practice and premonition; she felt as if she had walked this floor many times. The nearing doctors were waving at her, desperate now. As she approached she could see their teeth, rabidly gnashing like insect mandibles, their bloodshot eyes boring into her, but all she could hear was a distant click, beyond imperceptible, only recognized by the gap in white noise they made, their lips formed Hindi syllables; all of the doctors were stout, sweaty, crazed Indians. As with many people in a time of emergency or revelation, a zero-point hour, Jenny drifted into a timeless, distant state, floating down the hallway, walking faster and faster, always towards the bed.
A concussive crack ran through her head as it smashed into a sheet of bulletproof glass. The doctors had forgotten to open the door of the ward. Inside they hunched over the bed, its contents barely concealed from view by two plastic bed panels. Jenny felt that something horrible was happening. Across the surgeons’ robes, flickering shadows writhed, hinting at the thing on the bed below them. Again she banged against the glass door, but the doctors made no move to admit her. As her fist pounded against the glass, a portion of the pane shattered. Through the pane however, were no doctors, or surgeons, or bed, but only a dull sheet of reflective silver. As she pressed her face to the sheet she heard, perhaps a millimeter deep, a hoarse, dry giggling.
Jenny turned the opposite direction, where the real room stood. There it stood, the vanishing point down the hall of mirrors, the only place in the universe which she could never reach. As she walked down the hall, her reflections continued to slow their pace, lagging further and further behind.

However, you can fistbump, which is a universal sign of bro.

I get plenty of writing with RtD already, kthx.

I think I wrote this in 6th grade. I don't have time to touch it up but I decided to put it up anyways, enjoy I guess.

I'm not a creative person and i'm terrible at analysis - disregard me.
I like your bit about the mirrors though - it is effective.

That thing is awesome.

It walks among the many, gently laying It's hand upon their brows, quietly beckoning them forth, beckoning them to whisper what they desire. Sometimes it is for fame, for riches, sometimes it is for woman, busty and beautiful. Always for something. As It moves through It's timeless work, It feels something. It is not sure what it is, but something new is there. It moves forward unerringly towards the source. It sees a man, a quiet, modest looking man. As It bends forward to listen to the man, It is surprised.The man is acting strangely, standing up, staring at the ground. Quietly, as he kicks at the dirt, the man begins to speak.
"I beg no disrespect sir, but you have nothing for me."
- "What do you wish for?"
"Nothing sir, nothing.
- "I cannot grant nothing, what is it you wish for?"
"Sir, please, there is nothing"
- "What do you mean?"
"It is as such sir. I want nothing more then what I have, what I came here with."
- "What is it you have that cannot be replaced?"
"I came sir, with everything I hold dear.. I came with my pain (cuts bleed open on the man's skin) I came with my sorrow (tears trickle down his cheeks) I came with my joy (his lips gently turn upwards into a smile) I came with my life well spent (his skin wrinkles and his back aches and bends) I came for my peace, and that isn't for you to grant.
As he spoke his final words, the man, letting out a small sigh of pain, turned and slowly walked away, and as he walked, It watched him, staring at the receding figure. Staring until only his last words lingered.
"I came for my peace, and that isn't for you to grant.

There was never a time when I couldn't see
he was rising up inside of me
eating me inside.

Go now, and leave me here,
anywhere else my dear.
My place is dark, we're not the same
even though you made me lose this game.

And Jonathan asked God "if there is light, how come I cannot see?"
To which God replied "because you are blind," and then Jonathan was blind.

haikus

Feeling violated
He rapes me with his lewd words
Humiliation

It hurts, can't you see?
Why won't you stop doing this
Oh dear god, please help

Stop it, just go away
This has lasted for hours, dave.
Why do you do this?

Longer, and longer, I rest my head,
why should I ever rise from bed?
Weaker, and weaker, with every day,
filled so greatly with dismay.
Hooked, and chained, the lust and powers,
I live in dreaming through the hours.