Free Writing :: Imagination Station

[Mustardude]

Something me and Wumbla are working on.

[Cheez]

Okay, I'll give this a go:

Why does the moon rise at the time of the caterpillar's breakfast, says a ghostly dragon emperor on the sunday night of December. Why do I long for something in flames to keep my spirit alive in this cold, dark world of despair, Why do I long for many things that are not avaliable to me, why must I fear, Why must we be doomed to die in this world of pain, does anything really matter at all now? Many things I have tried to do, but they failed, and many times I have tried to suceed, this does not show my pain, as I feel that nothing has been accomplished in this time of my life. I feel like I am nothing now, faded away like the sand on the beach, stripped away into the ocean by the howling winds of the storm of this life.


Hm...

[handofgod]

This is kind of like a train-of-thought story. Where one event flows into another (or not). But anyways its quite strange.


The blue light slowly flickers its way into my Parifarel's as the dark begin to creep its razor blade edge along the ground. slow and steady. Its effortless and efficient. It knows no boundaries. The man carrying the candle wanders trancelike, unaware of the fact that Im watching him, his eyes are sunken black oceans that hide the deepest of treasures. The candle burns low. Wax drips like honey down his wrist, searing his skin. He takes no notice. Soon the candle flickers and is out. A silence so deep and penetrating that it rings in your ears like the loudest of cannon fire overwhelms me. I drown in it. Slowly. I begin to sink into the folds of its silk curtain. No sound. No light. The man carrying the candle is gone.
Then
All
IS
WHITE
A ghastly glow of bright rays that cut knife wounds into my vision. I am blinded. Only temporarily. Only forever. I find that Im in strange room with white walls, a white ceiling, and a single skeleton seated in the corner of the room. Black. Its a black hole. The skeleton is. It sucks all light out of the sky, a ripple in space that nothing, no matter how fast, can escape. I think that the skeleton turns it black head to me. Or maybe its my brain thats telling me to think that. Maybe I'm panicking. Just the thought of panic slowly induces a more panicked state of mind. And now I am full blown panicking. Beads of sweat thick as raindrops coat my skin and swamp around my ankles, the water is already knee deep, Im sweating a lake, almost literally. How ironic. To sweat buckets.
THe
Skeleton gets up
and
waves.
He put on a top hat and his best charming smile...seeing as he is a skeleton and cant smile. A strangely familiar chill crawls up my spine like the most horrible of familiar nightmares, and I acknowledge it as only a distraction. The skeleton opens a door in one of the white walls and leaves, some of the water in the room slowly drains out.
I
am
alone
...again.
Not for long. The man holding the candle is back. His imminent presence shakes the foundation on which my conscience state is built and Im taken aback. I reel around to find he's standing behind me. Or what was at one point in front of me. Confusing. What a bastard. What a confusing bastard I think to myself. He gestures for me to follow with a long bony finger that creaks and groans in agony as it beckons me. I follow. Gladly. As the water has now raised to my chin. I feel a strange sensation brush my archilles, like a creature from the deep surfacing to suck the fruits of my misery. There is another door. The man who was at one point holding the candle beckons for me to enter it.
I oblige.
Beyond the door all seems fine. My senses are once again at ease, no longer bombarded by a tidal wave/tsunami/gale force/hydrogen explosion of random events. Then I find the only reason im truly at peace is because Im not at peace. In fact I'm moving quite quickly.
I
am
falling
through
the
stratosphere.
What a peculiar sensation. A lucid dream. All too real.

[Cheez]

The man in the moon, he calls for me to join him amongst the stars.
I have spoken to him, this is not my time to go.
He beckons towards me and sends messages into my brain.
He declares I shall rise towards the sky and become one with the stars.
I feel my body rise off the ground, floating through the air with no control over myself.
I wonder where he will take me, and when I shall get there.
When I enter the upper atmosphere, I feel the air cool around me.
It is now dropping rapidly.
I am feeling my body is not...anymore.
I am now a free spirit, floating amongst the ones before me.
The man in the moon has achieved yet one more victory.


There's actually a message in that, I just realized... see if you can figure it out.

[origami_alligator]

Blasphemy crouching toward the light of firewood, charcoal skies plotting the ruin of a deepwood forest temple. Cornering a wild devourer of fruits and berries, teahing sing-songs and harmony in all that is colorful and earth-like. Among the canopies of the universe I hear the voice of God, but he/it/her/that does not exist. What I hear? What I see? The denial of mist is what makes fog so real. If to see a raind on flowerbed means the smell of pollen is real then I shall cast a chord of plomeasing figures into your brain shadow and develop skills necessary for combat.
Hold the rope, make the rope, hand over the rope shifting in the breeze. It is chilly here in the rainforest, frozen over from 1,000 years passed. It still functions, only incredibly separate from the rest of your ecosystem.

[Tunco]

When I'm laying on my bed, thinking of all the people in the world at the moment. Carefully thinking what each of them possibily could be doing at the moment, wishing I am not here. When I go to the kitchen I see plates, all over the floor, broken. The door was open, I was hardly reached it because of little tiny pieces of broken plates hurting my foot everytime I step on. I didn't minded all about that, I was just thinking about reaching somewhere to sit.

I sat on a chair, opened tv, remembered my cable was out, and tv was broken, closed it again. Even though I knew how to fix tv, the little pieces of plates hurted so much more than a few seconds ago, I can't be the pain let go of it. It's just bleeding so much more, I didn't bothered to get the first-aid tool box to make the little pieces left my feet, bbut they didn't. I tried to walk, an incredible pain went through my feet to my legs, following my body.

I was hardly breating, and even with this, the last thing I needed. I tried to forget about 'em, but they just keep coming forward me. I told them to stop, they didn't listened. Nothing ever could stop them, I though, they just wanted me. I tried to run away, though I knew they were going to catch me. I started to run like I've never been before, but they were getting closer and closer.

They got me. Put me in a small room. There was a computer, a table, some chocolate, a glass of water, and a letter on the box. The letter, that is important, should remember it. I opened the box, it was an electronical device, tic-toc, tic-toc. I started to faint. But nor, I didn't. I was very suspicious about the letter, and opening it. I opened it.

While reading this you probably recognized you are in a small room, no where to escape. Don't try to, this is a one-way room, no way out. While reading this, the bomb still counting from 2:00 to 0:00, you've understood that you got 2 minutes to live. These 2 minutes are very important, face yourself. Think all the things you've done in your live. The people you met, places you went, movies you watched, everything. Concentrate on them, try to remember if you've done anything bad to them. And I think rest is yours, sir.
Have a happy 2 minutes.

After I read the letter, I dropped it. Asking myself thousands of questions at a second, while checking how much time I have. Tic-toc, tic-toc. It's working. A very organized plan, I guessed. And nobody will be able to find me in there, my murderer still will be out there. I don't care. No one else liked me afterall, it doesn't make a change. The clock was showing 0:33, and counting backwards. I tried to remember my good days, mom, dad, my bro, they all left. They are not going to come, ever. My last 10 seconds. 9. 8. I wish you have a good life, hope you are one of the few people remembers me. Good bye. 2. 1. 0.

[Stephen]

Kicking of the pillow at the end of the bed that I sleep, one day it made me wonder why i kick so violence. Is the pillow deserved the kicks? Is my foot the real person? All this questioning my head, made it hurt like my head got punctuated with little needle's. One time I got interjections at school and it hurt like that which is hurting my head this time. Making me wonder why the interjections were in one's arm.

Then I runned out of my room and heard all of the mouths of the whole world spoke to me then. I listened 'em all at one and this was loud when a bomb is loud. But all the people of it couldn't listen enough and but I didn't really have a needle's in the head. Its what I told 'em.

After all was had, never get back to bed with diabolical feet. All the mouths shouting words make of fire in mine ears. I wanting to make it stop. Make it stop. Indeed, I maked it stop.

Strange, in the boring life, nor ever did see it in my mind. All voices what used to be inside of head, nor any, now. Telling the truth, I do not know if any of 'em said that.

[Aphex]

Topic: dance

The movement of bodys forms a flow of a single organism. It pulsates and twirls, natural in its beauty. The heavy sounds cling to the air like beads of sweat to the dancers, as they move quickly too and frow. The darkness is consumed by the bright sunlight, beating through the open windows. The clamy atmosphere pulsates in time with the music. The organism rotates with the music. The bright red costumes twirl energetically, swaying in the breeze. the constant cheering and laughter forms a chant, which joins the pulse of the music. The rythmn consumes me. The music is within me.

NOTE: reading over that, i realised i had the image of a festival i went ot as a child... and i still go to now... the subconcious is awseome ^^

EDIT: woops, i only wrote for around 1 minute... ah well, i'll try again another time.

[Turiski]

Eh, they always told me that if you just write that you have no idea what you should write then you would branch out to other aspects, so I... just read it:

I had an idea for what I was going to do but I decided I won't because that would ruin the randomness and on the spotism of this free write thing, I'm just hoping that my mind moves fast enough for me to keep coming up with things but I'm finding that it's my hand that slows down the process. I realise I never checked the time at the beginning so I have no idea when I should stop and also I don't really know how to spell realize I might still have it wrong even now and all I can think about is what I'm writing. I seem to have a really one track mind and maybe that's why I do so well at math but no, I'd think you would need a more lateral mind at Calc and above. I hate saying C-a-l-c-u-l-u-s. I think it sounds so pretentious. "Oh what math are you in" oh, just c-a-l-c-u-l-u-s... it makes me sound like a jack*** [altered], at least to me, nobody else has said anything abou it. As I get closer to the end of the page my brain gets closer to not thinking about anything and this handwriting is so messy I wonder if I'll be able

to read it and NEW PAGE so maybe I'll get those ideas again. Writing so fast makes my hand hurt and I'm having a hard time finding a good position for the rest of my body now that I mention it although the two aren't really that related and once Ling said how my brain works wierd but I think hers is wierd to not make random mental leaps although of course I don't expect her to make the same ones I do and oh my god I was going to say that I ran out of things to think about but I remembered this article that said that people don't me[strikethrough] think in sentances and so telepathy would be pretty worthless (though that's not really rellevant) but I noticed that mine sort of does put periods fairly often. I'm not sure if that came out to well in my writing and I'm wondering if thi cramping in the hand has something to do with the odd way I hold my pencil and my handwriting is a lot neater now than on the last

page and I just thought of LOVE but I think that would take all night to write honestly because I think I have a more mature opinion/view on love but it would take all night and last night I went to sleep at like 1. I can't be doing that all the time and I often think there should be some happy medium between "doing" and "doin'" and maybe we could put a little accent over the n like doin[tilda] and that might be more clear. I've often though there needs to be a better way to express dialectual speech in writing and that's probably not a word but that's why you take English class guys!

I like how after I mentioned how my brain puts periods places I all but stopped putting them in the writing :/
Honestly I had hoped that my brain would have wandered a little bit away from the whole writing thing but it really didn't get too far away. Now I'm all self-conscious about making sentances too long. Geez.

[Mae]

My attempt at free writing:

I’m not an emotional person but this has made me cry
Several times in fact – or at least given me a wonderful case of the shivers
Stunned by the beauty of something so ethereal
What to do with myself, what to do with myself…
When this moment repeats itself
All I can do is look out my window and watch the world watch me
And watch the rain pour gloriously
Or sit in the backseat
Sit there forever.

[Aphex]

This is a deep emotional peice of writing...

---

I take a deep breath as i look around, the sky is red with rage, as the torrential rain poors down on me. The dark storm clouds gathered, and as the lightining whipped the ground bare, the thunder struck up a chorus of darkness, with a deep rumble the storm edged nearer.

The house shook with the sheer power of the storm, the fear was overwhelming in the house, it could almost be seen clearly like mist covering up the room. The fear took hold of my family, and and my mom got scared
And said you're moving with your aunte and uncle in bel-air. I whistled for a cab and when it came near the Licensplate said fresh and had a dice in the mirror If anything I could say that this cab was rare But I thought now forget it, yo home to bel-air. I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And I yelled to the cabby "yo, home smell you later" Looked at my kingdom I was finally there To settle my throne as the prince of bel-air

[otters]

Free did I write, a poem I pen'd
To share with Metanet
I craft iamb, these rhymes I wend
Keynote, reduce, Tibet

Inserting random words to help
make sense of all my rhymes
Mushroom, doughnut, dolphin, kelp
these floods of paradigms—

I thought I might use dashes
Like E.E. Dickinson
before I thought how rash this—icing—goulash—walrus—bun—

I read the end and take a bow
The man(inthe)front row claps
This poem is more pretentious
than a dozen Skyline maps.

[noops]

"What am I doing here?" you ask, to no one in particular. All around you, surrounding you, enveloping you, is blackness. Icy blackness. Warm blackness. "Is anyone there?!" you scream, trying to move. You can't. But at the same time, you do. You can't explain it. It's ful of contradictions, this blackness. It's everywhere. you struggle, and you feel it trying to old you back, trying to subdue you, trying to... suppress you. And at once, you move freely, freer than you ever did. Your breathing, it becomes labored. Your movements, they become sluggish. This black void, it saps your energy, and at once, it gives you energy. you're confused. you're afraid. "What do I do?!" you scream again. every time you open your mouth, it invades your lungs, it goes inside you, causing you to choke, and dribble, and just as soon as it enters, it's gone, as if it wasn't thre. You start crying. you don't know how to react to this situation. "Someone, please, help me!" you scream. It begins to press down on you. And at once, it lets you fall through the air. Or at least, the closest substitute for air in this... This... Emptiness. you soon realize that as soon as you think about your surroundings, they change to the exact opposite. You think about the claustrophobia you are experiencing, and you immediately get the sensation of fallingm falling, falling, through... Nothing. and yo think about how you're falling, and you suddenly stop. Unmoving. Unable to move. "I know!" you shout, your voice echoing back to you, but said echoes dissapearing whenever you pay attention to them. "Think... Think about being trapped here..." you say. And you do. And you realize that you are no longer trapped. you smile. Hope! Yes! "I'm free!" you exclaim, and you open your eyes to find yourself in your bed, safe at home, snug and warm. you move. you touch the ground. The blackness, it continues on, it forms a wall between you and the doorway, it creeps out of the cracks and crevices in your room, ensnaring you. "No!"" you shout. "No! Please! No!" Fear, as cold and as black as the dark tendril currently wraping themselves around you, grips, claws, clutches at your heart. Squeezes it. And suddenly, you are back there. Back into this empty void of blackness, of nothingness, and darkness. And you are all alone.

And you shall remain all alone.

Only editing I did was proofreading. So, yeah.

[Donfuy]

Thrilling.

I'm terribly late. What, 8am already? Gotta hurry.
"Telmo, I'm going to the car and I won't wait long for you to come down"
Hm, where the fuck did I left my cellphone.
"MOOOM, have you seen my cellphone?"
"*sigh*YOU'RE ALWAYS THE SAME. DON'T YOU KNOW YOU GOTTA HAVE EVERYTHING PREPARED THE DAY BEFORE? NO, I DON'T KNOW WHERE'S YOUR DAMNED CELLPHONE."
Let's check on the tabl--WOOAH. The horror.
My mind goes back some hours ago. I'm on my kitchen, opening a milk carton to take up stairs to my room. Cats meowing so I let them inside. My favorite cat is there.
"Oh there we go again."
I open the door and a bunch of cats get in.
"What was that sound, son?"
"Nothing, mom, nothing at all"
I sit down in front of my PC and put the milk carton on top of my ta-- Wait, fuck it. I gotta wake up early tomorrow. Let's go straight to the shit.

Shit.
Milk all over the table and papers. I hear the furious car horn. I don't have time for this. I rush to the car, my hair scrambled. When I entered the car I figured where the cell was - on my pants backpocket.


I rush to.
The train.

People look at me as I pass. At least I think they do. They follow me with their eyes when I'm buying the train ticket, and gimme death looks when I let some coins into the floor.

I got the ticket. Where should I go? Should I look to everyone or ignore everyone? What will that girl think if I sit on the same bench has her's? Better put my headphones.
With my peripherals I can feel that girl is looking at me. I look at her. Mmm, such a lovely girl. She certainly wasn't looking at me.

"Of course she's looking at you. Didn't you just see? You even crossed loo--"
"--what the hell are you falling into that again? goddammit, you should know how it works with you every time. nothing happens. end of story"
"well, it could work. there ya go, another look"
"what that wasn't even a decent look. she was looking somewhere else certai--"

"Train from Caíde which goes to Porto São Bento will enter the station in moments. Please pay attention to the automatic doors."

"Where should I go? Oh crap. The girl's going to enter into that door, I better enter the train on another one or else she's certainly going to think I'm following her."
People looking at me. I find a spot between a bunch of almost-emo girls. Black black black.
I notice the girl in front of me.
Gorgeous.


-----------------------

I've had an idea like this one for some time now. Initial idea was with a bus ( I didn't ride the train at the time). This is not finished at all, but with me, the beginning is always the hardest part. So I think I'm going to come here and write a little more.


Oh, and I realize it's messy, specially the very first part. I started to think about too many stuff so I decided to cut it off on the milk drama thing. But yeah, I won't even read it again today. Maybe tomorrow.

Also, I found it hard to find words in english for some stuff (I write quite a lot better in Portuguese, but I don't really belong in any portuguese forum and stuff blablablalba)

[fingersonthefrets]

I reckon this deserves a bump, I'll edit this post with a free writing thing later if i remember.