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[rien-dire]

‘It’s Just Another Year’ & ‘A Study in Melancholia’ by A.H.

@ah-writes19 @alexprompts

Big thank you to A.H for all her contributions this september to the alexprompts x nymphswriting event!

The event is now over, so big thank you to everyone who participated!

https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/new-blog/its-just-another-year-amp-a-study-in-melancholia-by-ah

[rien-dire]

‘Not Your Preacher’s Pedestal’ by A.H

Thank you to A.H for submitting to the alexprompts x nymphswriting event, @alexprompts @ah-writes19

https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/new-blog/not-your-preachers-pedestal-by-ah

[rien-dire]

‘Lonely Golden Hours’ by A.H

Thank you to A.H for responding to the prompt ‘spectres in the forest’ from our alexprompts x nymphswriting event.

You can find more info @alexprompts and follow A.H @ah-writes19

https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/new-blog/lonely-golden-hours-by-ah

[rien-dire]

‘Our Enemy (At Times) Is Permanence’ by A.H

Thank you to A.H for responding to the prompt ‘art is still art’ from our alexprompts x nymphswriting event.

Visit @alexprompts for more information!

@ah-writes19

https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/new-blog/our-enemy-at-times-is-permanence-by-ah

[rien-dire]

‘“Why Do I Cry”’ by A.H

A.H’s poem responding to the toxic programming prompt is now ready!

‘And later that day I had to ice the joint for an hour

I couldn’t walk’

You can follow A.H here @ah-writes19 and on Instagram @a.h.writes19 ☺️

If you want to join our alexprompts x nymphswriting event please head over to @alexprompts page :)

https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/new-blog/why-do-i-cry-by-ah

[rien-dire]

A Study In Melancholia

I’d rather ascend

Not having found anyone

Particularly interesting…

Here and now

Is mind-numbing

And spectacularly overrated.

[6 lines] [prompt: “the astral plane”] [september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

It’s Just Another Year

I was born, and the world celebrated

Despite the fact that I knew nothing

They never seemed to realize

And another year came — went

Still I learned like a child does

Clumsily

Without forewarning or independent thought

And yet they celebrated me

What little I did, while they seemed to do so much more

While I watched them struggle in silence

Applauding my first of everything

Because I was young, I was noticed

I was assisted

I was loved

The rest of them, because they’d had so many celebrations

I suppose…

They weren’t important enough

Anymore.

[18 lines] [prompt: “1881”] [september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

Our Enemy (At Times) Is Permanence

I would love, someday, to draw on public walls without the fear of being arrested, contained, quartered, and intimidated like an animal.

Darker doesn’t mean safer. They catch me because their noses are trained in the forces of cardboard values, placed precariously on a foundation stronger than gravitational pull.

They catch me because they click incessant flashlight beams. They blind and then they laugh, not knowing the only reason their path is clear. Feet don’t stumble because they tread the same circle. The dark helps them. They are not the dark; they don’t know the dark; they don’t see what is really there. Dark helps them because they carry glass tokens. Seeing is not important, as they have those and the flashlights.

They are not the dark, but they are safe.

My drawings are art, though they don’t see them. They only see me.

The cardboard says — I don’t belong in the dark. But am I part of it? Oh, we shouldn’t ask such questions. Still better to be off the streets than caught in the flashlight beam with only a warning. Better arrested than a danger. Better to make the world safer, rubbing validation from those glass tokens.

I would love to draw something safe, but then where would I be? At home watching them blind with flashlights and fill pockets with tokens.

[september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] [225 words] [prompt: “art is still art”] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

Not Your Preacher’s Pedestal

Wave the fight flag

March in pouring rain

Pure white plazas dried with wine

A stone for each iron brain

Nothing sparks anger

O, quite like they do.

[6 lines] [prompt: “mediterranean wine + marble”] [september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

Lonely Golden Hours

It’s been such a long time, the small boy thought. He swung his legs back and forth on the chair and continued to stare at the gigantic wall clock. The laminate floors stared up at him, holding onto his shadow briefly.

The solitary sun beamed through the skylights. Uninterested but without a place to shift his eyes, he watched the sunspots dapple over his fingers. The table in front of him presented stray crumbs from a family’s meal — long gone. He furrowed his brows and swept them off.

Lots of other people wandered purposefully through the mall’s food court, all in groups talking and shouting. They paid no attention to him.

He looked at the shiny posters on glass walls outside each store. They were all strangers to him, taking part in something that seemed so wonderful. He had never yet figured out what it was — what makes them smile in that way?

He was almost scared of their eyes, and had to remind himself (now alone) that they were just two pieces of cardboard much taller than he was. They would only stare. They had only flat eyesight. They couldn’t hurt him.

He wasn’t so sure about the others…

Then the boy remembered the silver coins he had seen earlier that day. Six of them. Outside the makeup place, and he had scrambled onto the floor to grab them, wrenching himself from his mother’s grip. She had hissed her warning — wrapped an arm around his chest. He had been pulled further and further from the shiny coins.

Oh, how he wanted them. Now he slid off the chair, touching his feet to the floor carefully. He would see if they were still there on the ground.

The living ones were so loud…

It was five p.m. Never had the sun seemed so strong through the roof, and yet the sunbeams were fickle. They swept through the mall, indecisive about who to spotlight — as if they pitied him for a moment, and then thought better of it.

Quietly he walked away from the food court. He focused his gaze on the floor in front of him, watching his faint shadow bounce from under one skylight to the next. The other shoppers jabbered in his ears. They filled the empty spaces surrounding him, and seemed to pass the time he still spent waiting.

It’s been so long. When is she coming back?

He kept walking. His short legs made quick strides but slow progress. Finally he made it to the makeup store. A bright pink logo blazed before him, set in black stone and embellished with white trim. Upbeat music touched his ears, washing away the voices.

And there they were. Six bright silver coins shimmering on the floor, five steps away.

The small boy opened his palms and practically lunged for them.

***

“Hold on a minute, dear.” Her voice seemed deafening on the payphone… Indifference settled comfortably on her tongue.

There was a murmur and a high-pitched noise which made his heart jump. Then he had to look around, making sure no one saw him act frightened.

The bright linoleum laughed at him. His face was drawn and tight, the corners of his eyes dry as he held back tears. The building seemed to fill up with people, more and more voices talking, talking, talking. He couldn’t see the ground anymore. It was too bright. The sun was too bright, and too hot. Nothing was the way he remembered it. The floors shifted. He wanted to run, but his legs shook. He gripped at the receiver and tried not to make a sound.

She laughed in the background and he couldn’t tell if there were a thousand others behind the receiver, laughing with her, or if she was alone.

He shuddered.

Not a single person nearby glanced at him. Their low heels and sneakers never paused. No heads turned, no concerned faces met his gaze.

Had she touched them somehow? Had she created apathetic ghosts in the anticipation of his terror? He was alone in the most public place he had ever visited in his life, so far.

“Why do you need to come home? I’m busy. I’m occupied right now. And you know you’re not supposed to interrupt Mommy’s work.”

***

After another hour, he made his lengthy way to the department store’s formal dress section. It was tucked in a corner, unknown to the employees and rarely tread by customers. A few overhead lights flickered.

But now the strangers only moved like ghosts in his picture book. If one walked by, he may have never noticed.

Each dress rack was built into the wall, with a small step to keep the hems from brushing the floor. He crawled under the rack and curled up tightly against one corner. Only his small sneakers were visible, the rest of him covered by yards of rough swaying fabric. A person would have to practically kneel on the ground to see him. If anyone wanted to... he wasn’t sure at the moment.

He buried his face into one of the white skirts and cried without a sound, until he could no longer feel the pain in his chest. Until his heart was empty of the love he thought he knew.

His coins were gone. And what for? It would’ve been better if she’d just dragged me away again.

The next day, he reached the place he still wanted to call home. She was at work. The house was empty.

Why do you need to come home?

[september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] [928 words] [prompt: “spectres in the forest”] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

K I’m reblogging with the @‘s because I’m pretty... sure... they’re not working on edit mode. :/

@alexprompts @nymphswriting

why do i cry...

“We’re cleaning out the freezer today,” she said

And tossed me a package of ground beef

80% lean

I fumbled with it — dropped it on my foot

And later that day I had to ice the joint for an hour

I couldn’t walk

She told me that I should’ve been more careful

Paid more attention

Well, I’ll give her that

I have faults of my own

And I remember how she is, after the fact

Always surprising me when I can’t take any more surprises

Nothing but 70% water

25% dilated concern

The last 5% —

Willing to throw away what she’s worked so hard for.

[september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [16 lines] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] [prompt: “toxic programming”] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

You’re very welcome!! ♥️

so i have a character in my wip Nocturne that identifies as bigender and when they identifies as a male, he is referred to as "Eli" and "Eliza" as a female.

Is the name switching appropriate? Or is it very unrealistic? I don't want to offend or disrespect an entire community but unfortunately, I'm not very familiar with this. Can non-binary writeblr folks help me out?

[rien-dire]

why do i cry...

“We’re cleaning out the freezer today,” she said

And tossed me a package of ground beef

80% lean

I fumbled with it — dropped it on my foot

And later that day I had to ice the joint for an hour

I couldn’t walk

She told me that I should’ve been more careful

Paid more attention

Well, I’ll give her that

I have faults of my own

And I remember how she is, after the fact

Always surprising me when I can’t take any more surprises

Nothing but 70% water

25% dilated concern

The last 5% —

Willing to throw away what she’s worked so hard for.

[september alexprompts x nymphswriting event] [16 lines] [by A.H, @ah-writes19] [prompt: “toxic programming”] @alexprompts @nymphswriting

[rien-dire]

AlexPrompts x NymphsWriting

It’s here! Welcome to the September event, alexprompts x nymphswriting.

What is Nymphs Writing?

Nymphs writing is a brand new literary journal which aims to create a warm community for new writers, where they can publish their work and get publicity.

The idea is to create support networks, and help unpublished writers get their work out there, and feel more comfortable sharing their work on different platforms.

You can find information about nymphs writing on their various social media links and on their website.

Tumblr - @nymphswriting Instagram - @nymphspublication Twitter - @nymphswriting Website - https://nymphspublications.squarespace.com/

How will this event be run?

This event will run from today (1st September, 2019) until the end of the month, being the 30th of September, ending at midnight, AEST.

A number of prompts can be found below, and writers can chose any, or as many, as they like to respond to, and make multiple submissions.

@nymphswriting plans on creating a seperate page on the website for this event, and publishing ALL the work sent that meets the requirements (ie, word count, listed below), along with sharing your work on instagram, twitter and tumblr when published! So make sure to follow the different accounts to see your work appear!

Those in the permanent taglist and in the event taglist, which you can be added to by reblogging this post, will receive a reminders and updates during the events.

All participants will also have their works included in an event masterpost on this blog, which will be organised by the main prompt responded to, and will include your blog name, the title of your piece, and a link to the piece on your blog.

Rules of the event on tumblr:

Be following @alexprompts and @nymphswriting, be sure to tag both in your post on tumblr and to #alexpromptsxnymphswriting

Include what prompt you’re replying to in your post, along with your name or pen name, and the name of the event.

You can make as many entries/submissions as you like

Do not exceed 2,000 words for short stories, and 20 lines for poems, however any style of writing is welcome. Please include a word/line count in your post.

Any work created for this event needs to be original content, not taken from an already written piece (such as an excerpt from a WIP), or fanfiction.

REBLOG this post, to share the event further.

Tag anything potentially triggering or NSFW. Please not that anything considered too graphic may be given a disclaimer, or may not be shared or published to the website. However, still feel free to write whatever you please for your own purposes if a prompt gave you inspiration.

Not following these steps will result in your work not being shared or included in the masterpost, so please make sure to do so!

Steps of submission to the literary journal:

Follow the rules related to the event, then, to submit for publishing to the website of the journal, follow these steps!

Email the piece to nymphspublications@gmail.com, including the piece in the body of the email (not as a separate attached document). Ensure you include a title for your submission, your name/pen name, and the @ of your blog.

You may also choose to include in your email:

A short bio of around 50 words

Your photograph

links to your social media accounts

Links to where people can find your other publications/your writing

A song that you listened to while writing the piece, or that reminds you or you associate with your piece

An image you would like to be published alongside your work (if you do not provide one, the journal will find one they think matches for you)

REMEMBER, if you don’t email, the piece won’t be published on the nymphs publications website.

Prompts:

Spectres in the forest

Toxic programming

Mediterranean wine and marble

Art is still art

1881

Hearing colours

The astral plane

We look forward to seeing what you create during this month! Remember to keep an eye out for the various stories which will be shared throughout the time period, and for the masterpost which will contain all the great work shared!

Interested in joining the permanent taglist? Send an ask! This taglist is the first to know about events, news and weekly prompts.

Interested in the taglist just for the alexpromptsxnymphswriting event? Reblog this post! This will result in you being tagged in reminder posts, update posts and the masterpost specifically for this event!

Permanent taglist:

@every-book-has-a-secret@theflavorofmymadness@sarahcamillabarr@cirianne@joyful-soul-collector@ddesign8or@anaestheticdisaster@timefirewrites@whatnameshallitake@writingforjoy@pennedin @consciousdreamz@pe-ersona@carlyraeswift@elyteracy @pied-piper-of-hamlet @alien-from-pluto-writer

[rien-dire]

I think you can have name switching if you want. Your character can ask to be called anything they want, same with real life. Sometimes it’s easier, but other times it just depends on your character’s preferences and their relationships with others (esp. concerning gender attitudes).

It is definitely appropriate!! And while it may be confusing to some readers, it’s your creative decision!!

As a reader, I try to understand the characters and all the quirks that make them them, and having two different names for your identity is just one of those quirks! I think we should have more representation from nb folks who use more than one name, more than one set of pronouns, etc. It’s pretty validating and cool to see yourself represented in a positive light!!

(Side: you could also google ‘what’s it like to be bigender or non-binary’ if you haven’t already. Often names are pretty much based on personal decisions. There are some pretty good resources out there!)

Again, it’s entirely your decision since it’s your work. It’s completely acceptable and I think policing what people ask to be called / referred to as isn’t very nice. Good luck with your wip!!

so i have a character in my wip Nocturne that identifies as bigender and when they identifies as a male, he is referred to as "Eli" and "Eliza" as a female.

Is the name switching appropriate? Or is it very unrealistic? I don't want to offend or disrespect an entire community but unfortunately, I'm not very familiar with this. Can non-binary writeblr folks help me out?

[rien-dire]

I do more for education than side sentences and snake eyes.

— that apprehensive stone in my stomach

[rien-dire]

something about natalee

I never met my grandparents on my mother’s side. They had died before I was born, according to my mother. But she didn’t talk about them. I don’t know anything about them. Maybe she mentioned my grandmother once, in passing, when I was a child — saying I had inherited her sense of humor. But I don’t know if she was being serious or just sarcastic. I’ve begun to feel as if my birth was a remedy for their grief. I don’t know how to feel about that.

My father’s grandparents were a little different. I had spent time with them as a very young child. I only have a few memories, maybe when I was five or six years old. We would drive a long time to visit them in Kentucky. My grandfather would play cards with me, teaching me the rules to kings on the corners and lots of other games. Then we would stay the night. Since their house was bigger than ours, they had more space, but fewer beds. I had to sleep on the floor in the guest room, where my parents took the bed. I remember it being a peaceful place. In the morning before we left, the vast green lawn out front would always be soaked from sprinklers and dew. It would look so inviting — our apartment back in New York didn’t have an outside space apart from the small balcony connected to my parents bedroom.

And then suddenly we stopped visiting. I have no idea what happened, or if they’re still living. I want to know... but I’m afraid.

@alexwillow @alessia-writes