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A day of my life, wherein I try to escape reality in all kinds of ways.
A contest of creativity! Hosted by vintagebubblegumclub and snakepei
By Matthew Roland
I really am not quite sure what I'm writing. I never am until I'm finished. We'll just say that, from what I want to express, this will be dark. I have always enjoyed peering into those corners that others shy away from.
Please leave as many comments as possible, as feedback is what any...
In a world developmentally parallel to our own a destiny awaits. Serenity Avalon, a girl brought to a new country by her mother, is about to discover a truth about a magical linage from the past that has been long forgotten. Lady Katherine, a leader of a city in the sky cloaked by magic, is...
A poetical review of three years in a relationship that occurs inside and outside a girl's mind
Please note this is completely fiction. This reflects no element of my personal life.
Poetry | Updated Jan 1, 2013 | Reads: 7 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
By Alexa Burch
None of it was real.
Miscellaneous | Updated Dec 29, 2012 | Reads: 7 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 1
my imagination can make amazing things this is only the beginning i just need support just people to read this give ideas ask me to continue this story if u want and i can write for people if they ask just give ideas to work off of.
Novel | Updated Dec 28, 2012 | Reads: 10 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 4
By Peter Hunter
... those dark recesses...
Poetry | Updated Dec 21, 2012 | Reads: 5 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 1
A little Insight into the mind of a lost man
Short Story | Updated Dec 16, 2012 | Reads: 16 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
This is the first chapter for the novel ' Janus programme. A man comes to learn that his memories are not his, nothing is as it seems. He does not know about which memory is true and which is fiction......
By Sweet Agony Xo
just how my christmas are. every year since i was 8.
so yeah. enjoy.
Once again, another metaphorical poem.
My wish. <3
Poetry | Updated Dec 11, 2012 | Reads: 6 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
A man, bored with his office job and lacklustre life, re-discovers his imagination.
By Peter Setters
â€œI can smell the cold; it filters up my nostrils, tinkling the hairs inside with mint flower chill. The frost plates itself to the air, every grabful of it decorated like chainmail; scratchings on every outline, intricately flaked etch-sketchings tracing over the size and shape of things...