Stories

As I walk into a café, I look at a woman who passes. Who is this woman? I have no idea. I don’t know her name, I don’t know what she does, who she loves, anything really. But what I do know is what she is. She is a story. A book waiting to be discovered. Only a very select few get to read this story, and no one but herself gets to read the whole thing, as she holds the pen, and continues this story until her deathbed. But this is what I am amazed by the most. There are 7 billion stories in this world. Every one of these stories has layers to them, a timeline of memories, experiences, lifestyle, love, beliefs, and feelings. If I ever get the chance to hold a human brain in my hands, I would just stare at it in disbelief. How incredible it is that I am holding a person’s entire life, memories, aspirations, and emotions in my very hands. There are 7 billion stories in this world. Oh if only I could read them all.

 

“When you look at a person, any person, remember that everyone has a story. Everyone has gone through something that has changed them.”

-Unknown

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Murky Waters

Swimming through a thick pile of seaweed and garbage, I tried my best to find a spot to rest. I had scratched my lower leg in the process of trying to swim home and the scratch hurt very badly. Finally I found a soft bed of moss and plants to sit on. I leaned my hand down to the wound and winced in pain as I poked the cut with my long nails. I looked at the wound, it wasn’t as small as I predicted. Though it wasn’t anything to die from, it was fairly large and ghastly. I looked around me, trying to find something to cover my cut with. I pulled up some flowers and long grass, pressing it against my wound. After the blood began to stop, I started to wrap and tie the mixture of flowers around my leg to create a cover for it. I looked over to my left where I saw two little girls playing tag together. As they swam by smiling and playing, I couldn’t help but think about how odd it was for them to be out here, it the middle of nowhere. Well most places felt like the middle of nowhere. Everywhere I go, it feels cold, dark, and blurry. You’d have to have really good eyesight to see through all the hunks of waste and tiny green particles that resided all over this world. Most just stayed in their homes, that were more like big chunks of wood in random places. My friend Allie lives in what was once called a ‘ship.’ It’s what survivors used to use to float above the ocean. Some were very small, like Allie’s home, but others were humongous. What we like to call the community hall, used to be called the USS Enterprise. It was this huge ship that weighed billions of pounds and was used to transport ‘airplanes’, another thing the survivors used to use to get around the world. Thousands of us would meet in the community hall all the time. I used to go, but ever since my grandfather died, I just didn’t ever feel like going. My grandfather was a survivor and mostly lived in an air bubble in our home’s closet. He used to always tell me stories from when he worked on a ship and went out hunting for fish on his boats. Fish apparently were very common when my grandfather was younger, then they slowly just went away. Now there’s very few left. You always see them in big groups though, which makes them look not so scarce but the fish were just themselves scared and stuck together for protection. Just like us, some fish had developed a tolerance for the stench and the hazy green waters. I was like a fish myself, I have gills and my skin is sculpted to make is easier for me to glide in the water. So as I am like a fish, I don’t think I could ever harm one. As I thought of this, a small group of fish passed by me. They were small and grey with pink, almost red eyes. They rushed past me leaving a fast current behind. My curly blonde, but now stained green hair flowed up as they passed by me. I let out a small smile as my hair flung up in the water. I decided as I saw the cluster of fish go by me, that I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to see the world around me. Even though I couldn’t quite see much through the greenness, I just wanted to be able to explore. But before beginning my adventure, I looked up and squinted as hard as I could. “If only I could swim all the way to the top.” I thought to myself. But no, there was no top of the ocean anymore, it was endless. There was only left, right, forward, back and sometimes down. But no up. Nothing was there when you looked up. Just haziness and green. Not a faint of light would ever shine through for me to finally feel the light of the sun’s rays on my skin. Allie’s great aunt said that the sun was this huge ball of beautiful hot brightness that acted as a light for the world. I always wondered if the sun was still there, waiting for someone to give warmth to. But I can only ever see the sun in my dreams. I let out an exasperated sigh, and started swimming forward, farther away from my wooden home to search my real home, this never-ending ocean. I swam for about half an hour until I really had no clue where I was. I looked around me, and I swear I could see a faint, tall, grey shape in the distance. I stared at it for a moment, and like a frightened herd of fish, I burst forward towards the mysterious grey object. I had this desire to explore because my grandfather used to tell me about how he was so disappointed that no one ever really explored the survivor’s world to its full potential. Even though everything seemed dark and gloomy and boring, I wanted to prove my thoughts wrong and try to see what went beyond my own knowledge of my home. I eventually got close to the grey object, and I realized it was a rock. But this rock was different. It was engraved with letters, and some of the stone looked like a survivor’s body! “What kind of stone is this?” I asked myself, curious as to how such a beautiful thing could really exist in these waters. The rock looked like a female survivor, she was wearing a long beautiful dress and head covering, and her hands were put together in front of her. She had her eyes closed and head leant down. She looked so peaceful and beautiful, I almost didn’t feel like I could touch her, because if I did, she would open her eyes and move her hands, leaving her serenity. But I was just too tempted, and I slowly moved myself towards her and put my hand on her shoulder. After touching her shoulder, I began to gradually sit down beside her in fascination. This world, this ‘Earth’  that my grandfather spent hours talking about…it sounded amazing. A world not filled by gloom, trash, and water…But by ground, trees, planes, boats, and stone women. As I lay there by the beautiful stone woman, I fell asleep and dreamt about a sun-kissed sky thriving over top of beautiful lands, walking survivors, ships sailing over the tiny oceans and planes flying above them. Oh what a stunning world that must have been.

 

© 2014 theworldofmywriting

Please do not under any circumstance copy this work or claim it as your own.

 

This short-story was inspired by this image. The source of this image is unknown. I found it from here: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/magical-creatures/images/20004336/title/magical-creature-wallpaper

 

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An introduction and a sneak peak to my newest story, In society’s eyes.

About a year ago, I was bored and decided I wanted to edit some random photos. I found some cool photos of eyes and then I put what I thought about when I looked into the eyes in the photo. This is how In society’s eyes began, with these. PhotoFunia-a2f16d 

jugement This photo is my favorite. 

I then began to build up the story. After creating the basis of the story, I didn’t know really if I wanted to write it or not. It seemed very challenging but I have now accepted that challenge and began writing the first chapter not too long ago. I don’t really want to tell too much about the plot because I’d rather it be a surprise. Plus, I’m really bad at making descriptions for my stories…

But I have this sneak peek for ya’ll, it’s an introduction/prologue kind of thing. Enjoy. 

I am who I am. Nothing can really change that. I can act as if I am changed but I really am not changed at all. At least that’s what I thought. That’s what teachers, parents, friends, and family tell you. Be yourself. Love yourself.  I did that. I tried my best. But it’s difficult when you’re in a situation of a bunch of self centered teenagers who think the whole world revolves around social networks and popularity. I thought that I was different. I thought that I could never be changed to think like them. I thought everyone who thought like the kids at my school were brainwashed idiots…

But I found out I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

Humans are no different than wolves, or frankly any animal that is pack-orientated. We just want to stay with the pack, not be abandoned or become an outcast. Humans love the feeling of belonging. They love the feeling of mattering to other people. Being important. But sometimes in a wolf pack, there is a wolf that becomes a loner. He is kicked out of the pack, and runs away to start his own new life, all on his own. I thought I was like the loner wolf. I didn’t listen to what everyone else thought, and I was different. So therefore, I was exiled. I didn’t want to be a part of any sort of clique, or conform to the ways of the average teenager. I thought I was so special and unique to not be in a clique, and to not play the game like everybody else did. I was going to be the only one to go to a big university, get a good career, and everyone else was going to fail and realize how stupid they were. How dumb they were to mess with me, how dimwitted they acted about not talking outside of their cliques. I was going to prove them so wrong in the future.

But sometimes…

It’s hard not to conform.

When you see how happy the ‘normal’ people were.

When you sat alone in the back of the cafeteria, awkwardly eating your food as fast as you could.

When you see all the things you could be.

It just seems to matter so much.

And that’s what happened to me.

I used to be someone that tried my best to stay out of the groups. Stay away and be who I was.

But it wasn’t working.

Sure, I was happy about myself.

But nobody else was.

So I conformed. I joined a clique that I thought would bring me to the top of the popularity charts.

And it did.

And I became someone I never thought I would be.

I became so involved in my own little world, it was all that mattered to me.

I became my own worst nightmare.

But I enjoyed it.

I started to not think about how other people felt when I mocked them

I started to ignore the people that made me who I am today

I wasn’t myself anymore.

But I didn’t realize that.

Maybe it was because I was torn down for so long, and once I felt as if I had power, I went insane. I finally had the supremacy that I always secretly wished I had.

I was what they wanted me to be.

Not what I wanted to be.

But I blocked out my own voice, and instead listened to others.

Because in society’s eyes,

I was victorious.

 

 

© 2014 theworldofmywriting

Please do not under any circumstance copy this work or claim it as your own.

WHAT’S OUT THERE?

daisycloud:

As I am still working on things like chap. 6 of Azalea and the first chapter of another story, I’ll just enjoy very much sharing this user’s poetry <3

Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

 

Take a look up in the air, beyond the clouds, high above the blue,

If you can’t see that far then put to use your great Imagination.

What’s out there where we have never been, never seen or dreamed,

The moon stands out in the sky, the sun taken for granted as we assume it will be there.

With the naked eye Venus and Mars are seen every clear, beautiful night,

Every so often the night shows us a shooting star traveling across the universe.

There are many mysterious and unknown things not yet discovered through the cosmos,

Comets we can’ not put a number to or even imagine how far away they soar in the darkness.

Why is it that the sun lights up our days with warmth but gives no light to a spectacular sight,

We can only breathe the air up so high, beyond that tell…

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VOICES

Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

 

 

Around us we hear those whom speak,

Words and phrases to others whom will hear.

So many different tones from mouths each day,

Softly spoken or In a deep mean way.

Talking a lot Is a way for some,

Fast and unclear Is another way too.

We hear many voices as we spend our day,

Talking about their lives and crying about their pain.

Voices are heard singing songs,

Which makes us happy and bring our emotions outside.

On the phone there are voices, to us spoken words,

We can’t even see them but still they are heard.

Without voices we will not be heard,

If we are not heard then there Is silence.

Keith Garrett

 

 

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WAR, NEVERENDING

daisycloud:

Love this person’s poetry :3

Originally posted on keithgarrettpoetry:

War, how far back can i go, nature of man to battle and conquer,

Does it have to be with weapons, debate and discuss until no end.

Think about how ridiculous and completely sad that it comes to a killing game,

Whatever the issue it appears to be a fight as children would fight.

The difference being there is much more at stake when men can’t play nice,

War, never ending, i’ll just go back to the Revolutionary war, the Alamo,

Little big horn, the Civil war, world war one and two, is this enough.?

No, lets go to Korea, when it’s done, onward to Vietnam,

So here we are today with young men still gone far away.

It has to stop someday, tears and crying need too go away,

I don’t agree because all men cause war, we wouldn’t need heroes

If men would act Civil and not go…

View original 66 more words