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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.
I'm lying in bed
woken by the sore throat that
is characteristic of crying yourself to sleep
it's hard to soothe a throat like that
no tea and honey will do
or lozenges relieve (more)
She was tired of screaming to get attention from her teammates. She was tired of gradually lapsing into silence while the others discussed animatedly about things that she could help out so much with. She was tired of being dismissed, looked over, ignored, when her ideas were as good(more)
i feel like there's something lodged in my throat and no matter what i do to try and get it out i can't. my days and nights are spent like this, trying to get rid of something that i'm not sure is even real.
My throat is sore from screaming in this maniac prison I've created.
My hands hurt from pounding my fists against the walls.
My knees ache from kneeling on the ground, head in my hands.
I'm in my own little slice of hell, and I can't find my way out.(more)
He claws at the rope taut around his neck, a reflexive tear trickling down his cheek as he chokes. His eyes are wide and unfocused; at this point there is no thought behind his actions, just desperation and the instinct to cling to any scant chance of survival. Of(more)
"Try talking now." Luke stared at Martin's throat anxiously. "C'mon dude we need to know if you'll be okay to perform tomorrow."
Martain cleared his throat and tried to sing a little bit.
"We're going down do-" His voice cracked painfully and Luke winced when Martin coughed. John whistled.(more)
i'm exactly the same as before.

i just can't speak now and it's hard to breathe. sometimes i need to stop and cough before i finish a sentence and i don't know if you can read it on my face, but i'm in pain.
it's hard knowing tha(more)
Nick opened his eyes when the cool cloth was laid on his forehead. He glared muzzily at Takeo, whose face was pale. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, his voice strained rasp. "I thought you were headed out on the next train back to Central."
The herbal tea was hot and steaming. It warmed her hands delightfully. She took tiny sips so she wouldn't burn her tongue. The ginger tea ran down her throat, soothing the swollen ache that she had felt all day.

Rita sank back into her couch. She was (more)