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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.
if i could write a book, i'd dedicate it
to the quiet guys who sit in the corner of the library
flipping pages quickly, as if the pages served only to fan their face and
make a breeze, to (more)
I want to:
evaluate your technique,
investigate those deep brown eyes,
analyze those unholy motives of yours,
test the boundaries between us,
interpret your noises, (more)
He stared at the computer screen. "You... said you were doing research."

"Yeah, but I never specified that it was strictly scholastic research. At least not the kind you had in mind. This? This definitely counts as research."

He turns to her, face tinged with muted horror.(more)
The Google search history was damning. Poisons and how they were made. Knots that couldn't be undone by the wearer. Ways of hiding bodies. Hacked CCTVs that showed the road approaching an empty warehouse, the walls outside. The halls inside. Anatomy diagrams. Images to set the inspectors' stomachs churning.(more)
the quiet flicking of pages
reading through the information
quick glances
"i hope he didn't see me."
oh well he did.
whoops. (more)
The screen glowed with the tagged microbes. It was almost pretty, watching the lights spread and multiply across the unfortunate patient. Or perhaps the fortunate patient; only today's test could answer that question.
Jackson and May, not-so-much the happy couple.
Well, reflected May, Jack didn't know that yet.

May had started getting suspicious about two months ago. Jack grew more distant, was quick to get angry at her. He was more tired in the mornings after a late night at "work".(more)
An Aspiration
So resplendent in glory
So hard to begin
With your father's research etched into your back like a piece of scrap paper, with your superior's gloves bearing the same insignia, you must carry on. You have a scar running along your shoulder blade, a knife's edge scraped against your bones leaving only ashes.
It was not very hard to locate the wayward alchemist - even on such a bright, beautiful, sunny spring day he was sequestered away in the musty library. Roy Mustang sighed, unsurprised, as he yanked the blinds in the research room open.
He stared at the screen, it was ready to suck him again.  It was ready to devour his ideas like candy as he navigated the great web.  He was ready to devour right back.

There are no coincidences.  Ideas are power.  Research is action.

Don Quixote by Miguel De Cervan(more)
What is life but one great experiment? We are both the test subjects and the scientists. We dictate the ways by which the human capacity for knowledge and the unseen potential which lies within us all can be tested and brought out. Those who witness our experiment alter their(more)
You'll really like him, she said.  He's a great guy, she said.  "Recently divorced and looking for fun," were the exact words.
A person who she has never met.  He could be a serial killer!  A drug dealer!  A republican!
She sits down at her computer, a mug of hot te(more)
"Not enough, definitely not enough," he said. His tone suggested calmness but I know this man. Never losing composure, always stating things as if they were facts. He knows how crushing his words were and did not need to say more because he knows this was enough to let(more)