Thursday, June 6, 2013

Friend Of Fortune

I have a bit of a collection of paper fortunes from fortune cookies. I can't exactly remember when I started keeping these, but since I have quite a few I thought I'd share with you ^_^



























The last one is my favorite. "Today is the day you let it go. Your chance will come." I feel like I need to hear these words ever day since it seems there is always something, just something.

I hope you find fortunes fortunate for you too ~~~

~ Zephyr <3

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Forgotten Language - Memory

Prompt - write based on a specific memory, using your senses to describe the scene.

December, 2009. I don't know what day it is. This is one of the few days I have been conscious since this began. I don't know why I try to eat. Within minutes the few bites I've taken are back up, leaving a searing pain in my throat. My body hurts. Everything hurts. I should walk around, stretch, but I'm too weak to even try. The only way I can even get to the bathroom is by holding on to the pole whose tubes are connected to my chest. I see the doctor pass by my room, his beard growing out - a sign that one of his patients are not going down the good path. I have a strong feeling that patient is me. I know without a doubt that that patient is me. If I had been able to give anything but apathy to the situation I might have cared. But I didn't. Why bother worrying? I had no doubt that I would live. Delirium from drugs or not, I was not scared. My body tells me I have been awake for too long, that I need to go back to sleep. I do not fight. I lay back down and close my iron lids, knowing I will not be able to open them again for a while.


Respond to this prompt if you want and post it in the comments ~~~

~ Zephyr <3

Friday, May 17, 2013

Forgotten Language - Senses

Prompt - We experience the world through each of our senses. When we evoke the senses in our writing, our readers experience the world we've created. Write an entry in which one sense at a time predominates. It should be about a particular place or experience. You might just be sitting somewhere; record everything you see, then everything you hear, and so on. Do as many senses as you can. Be specific and concrete. Ask yourself  what does that look like? What does it smell like? By reaching for apt similes or metaphors, you "put pressure on the language" that further describes or evokes the imagery. This is what writers do. Write at least 250 words.





My eyes won't open. I don't know if it's day of night, light or dark. I try to open them, but the lids are heavy like iron, lead. I force them open for a moment, but they slide back shut with ease. I still can't say if it's day or night. The moment of sight is a frozen picture painted onto the inside of my dark lids. The room sears with intense white light from the ceiling above. The bag of red hangs leisurely from the shiny pole next to my bed. I can't stop seeing the bag of red. I use all my strength to pick up the upper half of my body, only to collapse onto my side. I can hear people talking, but I don't care what they say. I block them out, ignore them. I hear the cheap sheets scratch and twitch beneath my skin. The air is still in the room. There are no smells, there are no sounds, there are no tastes, there are no sights. There is only pain. My body is raked with the horrible pain that comes with feeling like your muscles are being slowly peeled apart, like they are being condensed into quarter sized boxes where they can never fit. My stomach feels like someone is taking it and squeezing it in their fists. My scalp feels like ever follicle is filled with needles instead of strands of hair. I reach to my head to scratch away the needles. They fall out in my hand. I know my bed is covered with them, those long brown strands of sharp sensations. I have since forgotten what everything feels like outside of my body. I only feel the pain within. I reach for the button next to the bed and press it. They already know what I need. Someone comes in the room. There is no point in trying to force my lids open again. I already know what they are doing. Within seconds, I can feel the deep haze fogging my brain again as I fall back into the empty void.




~ Zephyr <3


Feel free to write your own and share them in the comments ^_^

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Forgotten Language #1

So basically, this is a little section where I'll randomly share writings and short stories and poetry. I write alot so yeah, feedback appreciated. I'm hoping to publish a book filled with things like this someday.

Hold Heart, Don't Beat So Loud

You always give me away,
Frail Heart,
You always give me away.
I cannot hide away from them
They always find me out
They find a way into my eyes
And ever quivering mouth

Be still, 
Frail Heart,
Don't beat so loud
They'll find us from the sound
They'll prey upon this pulsating beat
And devour us
From inside out

Hold out,
Frail Heart,
Don't fail me now
We won't survive for long
We only hope
This one will love
Instead of breaking us down

You always give me away,
Frail Heart,
You always give me away.
They have found us
And consumed us
But somehow
We are made whole

~ Zephyr



©The Warpath Home

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Little Letters

Dear Fat on Body, we don't have a very good relationship. I think we should break up. Please, go away.

Dear Phone Battery, why will you hold a charge for two weeks and then insist on being charged every three hours? Do you think I will give in to your temper tantrums? Well, I do. Every time.

Dear South Florida Air, though I love you, you really need to understand that it's December and I need you to be windy and cold.

Dear YouTube, why do you change your layout every time I finally learn to like it? It's quite irritating.

Dear Blog, why won't you ever use the pretty layouts I find? No one wants to look at an ugly blog.

Dear my Dachshund Diamond, please stop barking at every little noise. Thank You.

Dear Imagination, though you help me with all creative things, I would really appreciate it if you stopped making scary shapes out of shadows when it's the middle of the night and very dark.

Dear Paranoia, please stop making me freak out about everything. I can't enjoy scary horror games because of you.

Dear Christmas, I know you can't be once a month, but would it be too much if I celebrated you in July as well?

Dear Boy, I miss you. So come back soon, okay?