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Four times a day,
we help you
get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
Hit publish.
Read. Be Read.
Write. Now.
please spare a coin.

two cents for the girl
who only sees flaws
and maybe a penny for the fingernail-claws
that she digs in her calves in the dark, every day, (more)
i'd do anything
to feel something; even to
feel pain. i don't care.
Consider: Coffee mornings, wine evenings, tea afternoons. When you're not full enough, you turn to something else.

Find religion. Find love. Find science. Find meaning.
"You're gonna get in that truck over there.  You aren't going to shoot at me because you don't want the shitstorm it's gonna bring down on your life, your family, and you don't know just how quick I am with this pistol here," I continue my steady walk towards them. (more)
is it really a surprise that sometimes the thunder roars in her ears and the storm rages in the heavens that she reached at in her rapid descent, and is it really worth scorning the nights where sleep slips through her fingers and even the moon won't hold her(more)
I swear, I can and will do anything to procrastinate. Anything and everything is prime fodder for the practice. Typetrigger is. A pen is. My hair is. Food is. The loose thread from the hem of my t-shirt is. Even other homework is. I need a life.
Rain will wash away the buildup of boring grime that I've picked up from all sorts of places. Dullness and mediocrity just seem to cling and weigh me down.

Is this catharsis, or a shampoo advertisement?

"That was... rather callous, if you don't mind me saying. Not that I'm condemning your actions! You handled the situation quite well."

She shrugs carelessly. "Eh, it got the problem solved."

After a brief stretch of silence, he turns to face her. She's driving the carriage now,(more)
this bus, this city, the pale sky. And how we ache, in places left untouched. Touch me, kiss me on the bus. Divert me from my drivel, love me into awakening. Fresh dawn kisses like a memory surge.  We lived then, we loved then. my stop, dear stranger...
I never knew how easy it was to save a life.

In high school, the easiest thing was to take a life. Indirectly, of course. All it took was one forwarded email of an embarrassing photo, one little white lie, one rumor. It was so easy to lie(more)
With a defeated groan, Ed slumped over the open book. "I'm done in," he announced. "I can't take it any more. Bury me in books, let my headstone read requiescant in libro."

Al did not even look up at his elder brother's theatrics. "You're not getting a headstone,(more)
Her hand grazes his jaw, directing his eyes over her way. "What? What are you looking at?"

And the realization hits her all too hard. He is a dead man without him around, and when her hands touch his he flinches away.


"Because," his lips(more)
I just don't want to be here anymore
Screens, music, drink, sugar, and medicine
Anything helps, but nothing takes it away.
If anything helps then everything helps. If it can be assumed that to help one cause hurts another, it can be extrapolated that everything hurts.
Though even to cause one harm build character so it can retrospectively be ascertained that while help harms, harm also helps.
"No shit," you(more)
Superboy tells him, one night, that it's difficult to step foot into Gotham, now that Batman is gone. It feels almost sacrilegious.
Batman is still here.
Just not the Batman-who-was-the-night-and-justice.