Jun 17, 2013


Visual Dare #24

“Somebody help him please!”

I struggled to keep the screeching desperation from my voice, but as each stranger passed panic tightened its grip. The station was chaos, suits swerving erratically around us until everything blurred to a broiling mass, their apathy was chilling.

“Please Charlie come back to me, just come back.” I whispered into his chest, needing it to rise, needing to rest upon his heartbeat and melt into that warmth.  Instead his life was threatening to spill through my fingers, and I felt what little stability I had left crumble as he became dead weight in my arms.

I watched the passers-by, looking into each of their eyes with such pleading until my gaze crossed one man's that tore my heart. Standing at the edge of the crowd, lips pursed with that slight sneer he seemed to draw pride on, he made a show of turning to observe the great brass clock face behind him before disappearing into the sea of grey.

Staring upward into the muted light I felt the pulse leave my fingertips. All at once the tension mounted, the pressure was too much. Falling back I cried out my anguish, releasing the tenuous hold on control and pressing shaking hands to my face, smothering the hot tears with blood soaked sleeves.

I had run out of time.

As the crimson spread from his body they cried with me. Their terror rang off the walls in astounding volume, the crowd exploding like sheep who have found the wolf among them, as each mindless creature saw the life surge from his body.

I waited beside him, my tears chasing his blood across the stone; he shouldn't be alone in this.

how a rewrite transforms,
from sjp.

Sleepwalking - Bring Me The Horizon
Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon
Deathbed - Bring Me The Horizon

Jun 5, 2013


Insecure Writers Support Group
June Edition

Everything is a whirlwind and I find life pressing in on me from all sides, both the good and the bad.  The adventure and the rejection.  That place in the back of my mind has become so frustratingly elusive, even in the drifts of sleep where the zombies come out to play.

Not being able to daydream has taken its toll; hours are consumed by traffic and computers and offices and meetings.  I can't let myself think I have lost Jaq forever, I fear I'll just give up.  I fear I passed my time, the chance is gone, those stories will never live.  I'm scared I won't see my characters and their worlds again.

But then I hear a song like this, and I can imagine the forest, the rattling percussion as you dance through, always on the tips of your toes as the excitement beats across your chest and you can almost hear the huh-huh-huh-huh of jumping breaths gallivanting around like some tribal expedition.

I just need to find that flow, cement in that schedule, enforce some down time, change it up until something fits, make that challenge that will fire the soul.  I need to fight for my stories.  I need to keep writing.

There never was any going back.

from sjp.

Got any helpful tidbits?  Or just want to vibe with the song?  Leave a comment!
If you have any Insecurities share via the IWSG link.
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