Predator-Of-Words

Creative Writing Prompt " Liar, Liar" -Make up a story of complete lies about yourself or someone else. She was a brave women when we first met. Piercing Eyes that I couldn't meet, a smile that couldn't be faltered. A stature that claimed respect, a tone of voice that demanded leadership. God, I hated her. Somehow we ended together; Me being too afraid and expecting every second to be the last, Her holding me afloat, treating me like some cherished figurine. We were young still and with all her respect, we still were new to love; Holding hands led me to shake and sweat, A kiss dazed me for hours and made me feel of worth. This relatio

There’s a guy sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper... Everyday he would be there from sun up to sun day, reading his newspaper. Maybe some days you would pass him and he'd give you a slight nod of approval. Maybe other days he'd just sit there as you passed, ignorant to the world as he glides through the words. Rain or snow, he'd be there, reading his newspaper.  Sun in full or clouded skies, he'd remain. Curiosity would overtake, maybe after a week or even a month.  No matter how long it took, it would take. You'd walk past and pause, finally turning to meet his aged glaze. Asking what he was reading, if he was okay, or a

-Not for a single day did I ever stop hating who and what I am. For hours, I was able to forget my past deeds and smile with others but every time I got alone with my thoughts, everything went back to hell -Even though I hated myself for my past, I've been relatively good this year.   My anger is all but gone and I'm truly able to love which is absolutely lovely as I love her more than anything else in the world. -I've had several nights where I curled up on the floor broken and begging to die because I didn't want to be in a world where humanity failed one another on a daily. It's just something that happens and I know I have to deal with.

Today I reached that point where turning back and no return are calling for me. My options are lower than ever before and I feel like my strength is fading. "What can I do now?" No one will hire me.  Bills are piling up. Worse than these, I'm failing the person I love. How can I look her in the eye and let her know that we have to delay getting married. Again. How can I hold her and know that I don't have the ability to protect her. I have reached the crossroads and guilt, pain, and crime.  For the first time in my life, the thoughts of robbing a store, selling drugs, or some other illegal activity appeal to me. I can't let her fall any

A few years back, I was among hundreds.   It was amazing to see each person fall to their knees as God touched them.  It was amazing to see. We were all surrounding the room, that very large room, and I was ready.  I was waiting for God and I expected him.  I didn't know what I was going to feel. A hundred people away, I couldn't keep still.  I was excited, scared, and just amazed. Less than fifty away, the excitement was building, not knowing what to expect I was just trying to be ready for whatever came. Ten people away, I tried my best to be ready and I was so close to just breaking apart.  Five people. Then four. Three, two, and then

What would you see if you looked back? Would you see many people who you could come to in your times of weakness? Would you see a family you can be with whenever you get lonely? Or would you see bridges burnt, with no one left to turn to. . . I have a few amazing people in my life, but their numbers are too few. The number of people who only know my name when they need someone to tell them they are right.  Too many to count. What happened to the list of people I could turn to?  The people I could ask for help?  Why is the number on that list a single digit? Oh yeah, I lied.  Oh yeah, I stole.  Oh yeah, I broke.  Oh yeah, I raged. I bu

It's too heavy, i feel like the weight of the world is weighing down on me. I'm tired of being the person who everyone trusts and everyone tells these large, deep secrets to. Tired of being the person that people tell their darkest moments, their saddest days to. At first I felt honored, then I felt the respect they had and still have for me.  But now I feel weighed down. So many secrets, so many dark days I had to be there for.  So many cloudy days where they neared the gate of death and just wanted someone to care. It's heavy.  It's dark, scary, and heavy.  I've been down here in the depths of human despair for so long, keeping so many

I did it! I created a character, created his back story, created his story, wrote him some obstacles to overcome, and some fears to fight and then I imagined a happy ending for you, the reader. I even created a friendly village that kept it’s humanity in a time of war and a family that was loving and kind. All of this I did and finished in the Outline. Then I started the actually story. His friends who were meant to help lead him through his journey were killed by the enemy. His village, his home. Burned beyond recognition. His family, raped, murdered, outright slaughtered in front of his eyes. The mission for good against the ene

I haven’t written in a while. So I try to write. Fail horribly but I try.  “Try”.  Heh. Anyway, look.  I have thoughts in my head, little stories of what could be but when I try to put them into words or into pictures, everything goes loopy and I can’t even get the first three or four sentences done before I have to restart completely. I have images of where two people are there, one engulfed in some form of evil and the other is just a small child.  Wars go by, causing havoc and mayhem, wiping out a third of the world if not more. But then I have to stop, because I want them to be happy and I see no happy ending co

My wings have become bloodied and tattered.   My palms have become hardened with calluses and my fingers have lost their soft and caring touch. When did the fields where I used to play with the children become tainted with the corpses of men and women? When did the adoring eyes of the young ones change to fearful glances? The streets that used to be alive with the bustle of energy are now deserted and boarded.  Walls fall to rubble; skeletons, both new and old, scatter the ground; and many buildings crumble. "Where did humanity run to?" Staring at the sky, I see them, the stars of heaven, falling fast to deliver their punishment.   F