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April Writing Challenge
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Poetry:The darkness of winter fades
As the light of spring emerges
In the dark we reflected
Found our way back to ourselves
Now it is time to emerge into the light once more
Take my hand and let me show you
What it means to be alive
Hear the birds singing of new hopes yet to come
If the flowers can bloom after months in the dark
Then so can you
Look at the light shining through the leaves of the tree
And discover that light within you
Through the cracks in your soul
Let the darkness out
And let the light come in
It is spring, love
A time to discover who we are
To dance in the rain and wildflowers
To be wild and free
In all that we can be
(I have no idea if that's any good, but I hope it's okay!!!)
is there a word minimum for the writing one?
![Annaâ¸â¸ (Jacks & Wessyâs Version) (tortured poet)[from the vault] | 107 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1745338586p1/169532960.jpg)
Yeah, 600 words
Mod
Ohhhh mb I read that wrong lmao
Mod
đđđź
Can I just put chapter one of my book? It has a cliff hanger I think
1. Before) The end of the world as we know it?The end of the world isnât that bad. If you subtract all the zombies, no power, having to escavenge for food, and no clean clothes to wear. Itâs really not. I guess the apocalypse started- maybe 6 years ago? England fell first. Then Russia, Italy, Germany, then America. We had to watch everyone fall knowing we would at some point. So our school started preparing early on. Teaching us survival skills, how to make clean water, how to make food, etc. I guess they knew the teenagers had a chance at survival. And that, is exactly what happened. âLENORA. COME DOWNSTAIRS NOW.â� I heard my mom yelling. I wasnât done packing. The government is already struggling to keep America together. Mainly because the sickness is already spreading. Goodbye to New York. Iâm a ways away from New York but there was a case of the sickness in Nevada. Where I am. The group chat was blowing up
Leslie: u guys evacuating too?
Brinkley: yeah. Iâm scared. My dad has to stay behind.
Me: did you guys hear what they are doing to the people in the hospital? they arenât even bothering to evacuate them. They are just letting them die?
Leslie: yeah. I know. But we canât take them if they are going o get it sooner or later.
Brinkley: thatâs so messed up.
I sighed and turned off my phone. âCOMING.â� I yelled back at my mom. I donât understand why we have to evacuate. Itâs not even that bad. I walked down the stairs. I heard the news and my mom throwing some of the bags on the floor. âHelp me. Put your stuff on the floor.â� She looked up at me. âLenora why do you only have one bag?â� She asked me. âMom we wonât even be gone that long. Four to six weeks is what the news said.â� I said rolling my eyes. My mom was so over dramatic sometimes. âWhere is your father?â� She asked âwhereâs the room in the car you think is going to fit all of this?â� I asked back. âDonât give me that. Go find your dad.â� âOk.â� I sighed and walked to my parents room âdad?â� I yelled. No response. I walked upstairs just into the hallway âdad??â� I yelled again. No response. âHuh.â� I pulled out my phone and texted him.
Me: where r u?
Not even read. Where is he? âMom? I canât find him?â� I yelled down the stairs âlook harder! Heâs here somewhere.â� My mom yelled back. I groaned. My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled my phone out again.
Dad: sorry Iâm in the garage.
Wait. Didnât I look there? I shook my head and walked down the stairs. âYou find him?â� My mom asked âno. He texted me back though. He said heâs in the garage.â� My mom didnât say anything âhellooo?â� I said to my mom âyeah sorry sweetie. I just thought I looked there. Just go look again.â� She smiled at me. âThatâs what Iâm doing.â� I walked over to the garage door. Before I opened it I thought I heard something. I pressed my ear to the door, I didnât hear anything other than shuffling of feet. I went to open the door. âDad?â� I said. The door was open but, no one was here.
Poetry: Dear, purest soul of mine,
Who seeks in spring a touch divine,
You bloom in silence, soft and shy,
Beneath the wide, awakening sky.
You sing of love you've never known,
Like petals scattered, overgrown,
You write of scents youâve yet to breathe,
Of flowers blooming underneath.
You wait to hear the robinâs song,
A melody youâve missed for long,
You wish for love, a vine to grow,
That entwines your heart in morning glow.
You walk through woods where whispers lie,
Where blossom dreams refuse to die;
And feel within the lilac air,
A trace of someone, faintly there.
You cry in thought, though tears donât fall,
You sense the bud before the call.
You wish for hands, both strong and true,
To plant a spring happiness deep in you.
And as you watch the rivers glide,
And daisies turn with bashful pride,
You start to feel, through breeze and rain
A nearness soft, like sunlight's thread.
A soul perhaps not yet revealed,
But in the earth, already sealed
A bloom youâve never touched nor known,
Yet still, it stirs within your own.
![Jasmine (Jazzie) [Jesus Loves You!!] | 54 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1746130895p1/174090398.jpg)
~Writing:~The flowers in her bedroom were beginning to wilt. Katriel didn't know how Davian managed to find enough roses to fill it, but he did. Each one a mocking testament to the love she thought they once shared, but then, maybe she never knew what love truly was in the first place.
She wondered if the last words he said to her would still haunt her past today. Davian had asked her, âAre you really still a queen if your kingdom is in ruins? If there is no one left to rule over but corpses?â� the day he betrayed her, telling her to either give up her kingdom peacefully, or face him in war.
Katriel sighed. Was I really so worthless to love that he would rather join my enemies and take my kingdom from me than to become king by marriage and have to live with me for the rest of our lives? She questioned as she looked out the window.
She could see the fire and smoke of villages being torched even from miles away. It hurt her heart to know that all those people were dying because she made one foolish mistake. Katriel shook her head. Although she didn't want to acknowledge it, she figured it was only a matter of time until the capital was up in flames as well.
The door opened and her lady's maid rushed it. âYour Highness, they're coming!â� Anna wrung her hands together. She seemed to pale more every second as she frantically looked around the room.
âAnna, dear, who's coming?â� Although she looked at Anna worriedly, a seed of hope bloomed in her heart. If it was General Evander, her kingdom may yet be saved, but if it was Davianâ�. all hope would soon be lost.
Anna started to sway. âIt'sâ� It'sââ� She collapsed. It was then that Katriel saw the arrow sticking out of her back. She gasped. âEvanders's men would have never fired upon a citizen of Eldora! That meansâŚâ� She stepped back. As much as she wanted to help Anna, she knew it would be useless. The army of Drakor was ruthless. Everyone knows how they coat their arrows in a deadly poison that no one has been known to recover from yet.
Katriel whispered a prayer as she hurried to the window. Towards the left of the castle, behind the capital's walls, she could see men in the royal blue of Drakor lining up cannons. âThey aren't coming, theyâre already here!â� She exclaimed in despair. âAnd there's nothing we can do about it.â�
She looked to the left, where she thought General Evander would most likely come out from the woods. Katriel practically begged in prayer for him to show up. Every moment felt like hours to her until finally she saw a rider dressed in emerald green riding her way.
A tear of relief escaped and rolled down her cheek. Her army was on it's way. Katriel turned to go down to meet the rider, but before she could take more than a few steps, a cannonball hit the far wall of her bedroom. Debris flew in all directions, destroying many things in its paths. A large stone came straight for her, but she didn't have enough time to react and more out of the way. It hit her in the side of the head and knocked her down. This time her tears were of pain. Katriel's last thoughts were of her kingdom, of her people, and how she hoped one day they'd forgive her for putting them through all this before the darkness finally overtook her.
All of y'all's are so good!!
1. Writing(it's about a prisoner who's slowly going insane...<3)
Silent Terror
I began my new life, standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air. Metal ground against metal: a lurching shudder shook beneath me. I fell down at the sudden sound of the alarming whistle, backwards and forwards on my hands, drops of sweat beading down my forehead, despite the cool air. Sinking to the floor, I pulled my legs up tight, against my body, hoping my eyes would soon adjust to the darkness. I tried to dismiss my thoughts of that horrid night. Miserably failing, I sat there helpless, with thoughts that consumed me and remained like a staple in my brain.
In the suffocating darkness of my cell, the relentless echoes of the prison reverberate through my mind, each sound a cruel reminder of my entrapment. The clanging of metal doors, distant shouts of guards and the haunting whispers of my fellow inmates weave together into a cacophony of sounds that gnaw at my sanity. I can feel the walls closing in, the air thick with despair, as I lie on the cold concrete floor, my heart racing with the primal fear that someone or something is lurking just beyond my reach. The shadows dance menacingly and I can almost hear the footsteps approaching, each one a harbinger of doom, that sends a shudder down my spine.
I am not merely a prisoner: I am a target, the very sounds of this place seem to conspire against me.
As the night tolls, I find myself trapped in a labyrinth of my own mind, much like forsaken corridors of the maze I once read about. The walls of my cell feel like they are shifting, morphing into a twisted version of reality, where escape seems like an illusion. I can hear the faint cries of those who have succumbed to the madness, their voices echoing my ears, more insistent, as if the prison itself is alive, feeding off my fear and despair.
I clutch my head, trying to drown out the noise, but it seeps into my thoughts, wrapping around my consciousness, squeezing tighter with every possible moment.
I could give myself some peace of mind, but I am too timid, too afraid, to see my worst fear becoming reality again.
The shadow morphs into a figure and I can almost see the glint of a blade, in the darkness, ready to strike. The sound of shuffling footsteps sends a jolt of terror through me, I am haunted by the thoughts that I am not alone.
I am not alone.
A malevolent presence is waiting, watching for the perfect moment to pounce. I can almost feel the cold breath of my unseen tormentor on the back of my neck. The killer is biding their time, savouring the fear that radiates through me like a beacon.
Each creak, each clang, feels like a countdown, a reminder that time is running out.
My mind races with the possibilities of who this spectre might be-an inmate driven mad by the confines of this hellish place or perhaps my worst fear.
The uncertainty is suffocating and I find myself glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see a glint of steelâ�
My heart sinks into my chest and Iâm too afraid to scream or move. I turned my head to find a pale figure with beady black eyes, staring through me and into my soul as a horrid grin creeps up its face. Blood was dripping from its razor thin lips. It was standing inside the cell this whole timeâ�
âWe meet again,â� it scowled. I lie awake, the darkness becomes a lying entity, wrapping me like a shroud.
And then...everything went silent.
Where She Ran
Gasping for air, she ran through the flashing hues of red and blue, tears and rain streaming down her face.
All she knew was- sheâs in danger. They are after her. She needs to get to safety. But where was safety?
Her sneakers slipped as she weaved through the cars and crowd of the rainy New York City night, looking for solace. She made an abrupt turn to the right, taking off down a road and into a dark alley, holding her knees and wheezing for breath.
A shadow cast in front of her, and she looked up. Taking a step back, she collided with something- no doubt someoneâs front. She barely turned her neck and before she could take a glance, a cloth was shoved into her face, laced with sedatives. She screamed into the cloth, muffled and desperate at her attacker when suddenly
everything
went
black.
Writing
The Reflection
Lena had only just finished brushing her teeth. As soon as she looked into the mirror, she saw her reflection - eyes barely open, hair wet from the shower. She hunched down to look closer at a little scratch on her face. She didn't remember it being there.
The mirror was filled with steam. As a result, her face was half-visible, and she was forced to clear the vapor with one quick movement of her hand and stop in shock.
When she moved, her reflection stayed there, not changing in the slightest.
Lena blinked.
Still, the other her was in the same position, smiling slightly.
However, Lena was completely sure that this was not true.
All of a sudden her skin turned white. She even turned her head first to look behind her since the air was less heated than before, as if the window was slightly open. However, everything was just as it is.
Turning back to the mirror, her gut twisted.
The reflection was not only smiling, but now it...was...raising...a hand!
Meanwhile, Lena's hands were trembling at her sides. She didnât move a muscle.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound came not from the mirror, but from behind her.
Feeling dizzy, Lena spun around and was staring at the open bathroom door. Nothing was there. No one.
She nervously laughed off the situation, trying to shake off the tension. Probably she was just too tired out. Probably it was her overactive imagination. Sleep, that was the only thing she could think.
However, she found that as she turned back to the mirror itself, she couldn't find her reflection.
Only the bathroom background was visible through the mirror. No one was there. Nothing was happening. It was all quiet and calm.
There was definitely no one there.
The change occured in the mirror's background first.
Then, the background of the mirror that led to the hall, dragged an invisible thing across the room.
They were looking at her.
She turned around, but without avail, she saw nothing still.
However, at the time she returned her eyes to the bathroom, the figure was closer. The figure in the reflected image appeared to be standing only on the other side of the door.
Lena did not even dare to move, her body was petrified in fear. Her eyes could not leave the mirror.
There was a sudden flickering of the lights.
°Őłóąđ˛Ôâ�
At that very moment, the figure in the glass not only moved but took the step into the bathroom. However, Lena had not seen the entry of anyone.
She was still aloneâŚor was she?
![Chertzo Ember [s: ia] (chertzo_ember) | 14 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1744450416p1/160330821.jpg)
April 14th, 2025Poetry:
âthe one who walks where wild things breatheâ�
they called her the girl of the in-betweenâ�
born when spring cracked open the sky
and monsoon wrote its first verse.
she walked barefoot,
not for poetry,
but to feel everything that could cut her.
in spring, she spoke to soil,
let wildflowers bloom in her hands,
and kept bees as her only companions.
she listened to trees whisper truths
even the stars had forgottenâ�
that beauty was never gentle,
only wild things learn to bloom
with dirt in their mouths.
when the rains came,
she didnât run.
she stood still beneath the thunder,
let lightning sketch her silhouette
just to know
what it meant to be seen.
some days, she danced
with winds so fierce,
they mistook her for the storm.
on others,
she lay beneath drowned roots,
quiet as a ghost,
watching how life still grows
in whatâs been broken open.
they feared herâ�
not for what she destroyed,
but for what she understood:
that softness can bear fangs,
that healing isnât gentle,
and becoming is a kind of violence too.
so she kept walking,
between ruin and rebirth,
a hymn in human formâ�
the kind you donât sing,
just remember.
Writing The Echo behind the Walls
I donât remember the last time I slept. Or did I sleep? No, Iâm sure I didâlast night, maybe? Or was it the night before?
Itâs all the same now, isnât it?
Timeâs a cruel joke. A joke only I can hear, only I can feel. But what is time, really? Just a series of moments stitched together with trembling hands.
I hear them againâthe whispers, the soft scratch of nails against wood. No one else hears it. They never did. They stare at me with their wide, pitying eyes.
Crazy, they call me.
But itâs not me.
Itâs this place.
Itâs always been this place.
The walls breathe when Iâm not looking.
The lights flicker when I close my eyes.
The shadows crawl a little closer every time I blink.
And the clock. Always the clock. The hands spinning, faster, faster, a whirlpool dragging me under.
2:47.
Always 2:47.
I smash it. It laughs. How can a clock laugh?
Iâve been writing this down, havenât I?
Or was it written for me?
Is this my handwriting? It looks like mine. Smells like mine. But it feels... older. Like someone else wrote it before I could.
No, no, Iâm sure I wrote it.
Right?
Right?
Thereâs a breath behind me now. Warm. Slow. I can hear the fabric of their clothes shifting when they move closer.
They lean in so close I can feel lips brush my ear.
And then, in a voice that sounds exactly like mineâbut deeper, rottedâthey whisper:
"Do you remember which one of us is real?"
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Prompt: Must have a cliff-hanger ending
Genres- Any
Word Limit- Around 600 words
Poetry-
Prompt: Relating to Spring or Nature
Due by - 30th april (unless postponed)
Winners will be decided by voting!!
Check the ouabc hall of fame to see the entries by the previous months' winners