writersblockwarriors - Tumblr blog

[writersblockwarriors]

Sunshine Thief:

To the thief who stole the sunshine,

Please return what belongs to me:

My happiness, my warmth, my integrity.

I dont want to live in blistering misery.

Please stop the worries and the doubts

She hates you, you arent pretty enough;

You're a sweltering faliure, unworthy of love, unworthy of a caring touch.

Deserving of harsh caresses,

Where the nails dig in to draw blood.

Shrouded in darkness, all I want is what is mine.

My once perfect, stolen, long lost sunshine.

This overthinking hurts my head,

It fills my soul with an overpowering sense of dread.

Ive tried everything to find my sunshine.

Thinking helping others will help me overcome my loss with time.

But i still panic at the feeling of eyes and people being uncomfortably human.

I still contemplate the versions of myself that exist in the mind of others.

In the minds of friends, family and potential, dreamy lovers.

Am I strong? Funny? Brave?

Or do they see the scared girl longing for a grave?

Sometimes i think ive found my sunshine,

It is merely artificial. Temporary.

Found through the new obsessions of so called love and rhyme.

But im improving, thats what they think.

"one step at a time" They say whilst I drown and sink.

Please Shrouded thief, give it back!

Show me righteousness, give me a sign.

Hidden away with various knacks.

My glorious darkened sunshine.

[writersblockwarriors]

Before You

Before you, only I knew me.                                After you I was a stranger,                                  Hollow and cold,                                                    Carved by the chisel of your desires.

Before you, every breath was a waste.              After you, I cannot breathe without remembering                                              The unforgotten privilege,                                    Of your fingers between mine,                          Your coat slung across the sofa,                        My dress a rag upon the floor.

Before you, days were too dark.                          After you, even nights are too bright.                Like a fire, you kept me warm.                            But without restrictions, you burned                Everything in which I once loved.                      Including myself. 

Before you, I had something to give! I gave everything to you!                                    Through our passionate kisses, you stole my fairy tale ending.                              But, when it seemed close.                                  Penultimate                                                            The ink stopped flowing.                                      You left your kingdom behind to crumble with your princess locked inside crying out your name.

[writersblockwarriors]

Pawn In A ChessMatch

Wooden warriors lined for battle, Only months of training to their name, Herded together like cattle, They are ready to win this game.

At the break of dawn, deafening cries Pale, thin, cowardly fingers push them out. Unearthed were the dirtied, soiled lies, Before their twisted, burning eyes.

Square by Square, they move, Inch by Inch, more land. The artillery dances to a constant groove, All they are, grains of sand.

And the fallen lay forgot, The mud turning red, Behind they are left to rot. And the next line charges instead.

Wooden warriors laying on the ground, Their mouths screaming a silent goodbye, Their bodies trampled, pound by pound All that remains is a mother’s tearful lullaby…

[writersblockwarriors]

Eccedentesiast

Every day, I wear my mask, To shield you from what’s behind, Happiness, I have it in a flask. My smile is so perfectly refined.

My teeth are pearly white, To hide the yellow beneath, I’m Cheshire, I’m alright! My mind is a heavenly heath.

The tongue that talks, always sings To drown out, the darkness below Like a bird, spreading its beautiful wings. I have moulded my face like dough.

My eyes are glowing, They distract you from what’s beyond, This uncertainty is always growing, You have been well and truly conned.

Extinct is the happiness I always fake. This falsified grin is revealing the truth Like an unwelcome body to the surface of a lake. Here sits a blackened, rotting tooth.

And the lips that swerve Are not a rosy red, They are filled with words, Words that will never be said.

[writersblockwarriors]

A Broken Vessel-A Poem about Disability

Sunken is this vessel, I am forced to board. Like a prisoner with wrists tied with rope. In my ears, the ring of a dismal chord, I am nothing. This ship can’t cope.

Into the wide world, without faith, Endless is the sea. My ship needs to float. Below this ocean sits an untouched wraith, I am nothing. This ship can’t cope.

The crew can’t see this defect. This scurvy, this disease, and I are eloped. We’ve already set sail, it’s not correct! I am nothing. This ship can’t cope.

The mast has snapped, The tide is a never ending slope, Which direction? I am trapped. I am nothing. This ship can’t cope.

On deck, you can see gaps in the wood, They’ve arrived at the stoep. Fallen, the exterior’s hood, I am nothing. This ship can’t cope.

Although we’re sinking, I can see it, Our destination, and it gives me hope. We can make it. I can admit. I am something. My ship can cope.

[writersblockwarriors]

Hades, Made Mortal

The dark blue flames in Hades’ eyes flickered a soft dying light at the young girl stared down at him with curious wonder. He was surrounded by the debris of smouldering, unearthed ground. Branches of a fallen tree clawed feverishly at his skin, as if they were desperate to take hold of him and plunge him back down into his Underworld from where he came.

“You look like you’ve just been to Hell and back.” The girl commented. She had an uneducated cockney way of talking but, her general tone was brazen, harsh and lacked genuine concern. Grunting in reply, Hades looked up at the girl in disgust. Her comment was a little too direct for his liking, worded as if she knew who he was. But...Who was she? At first, it took him a while to make out any of her features because her skin was smothered with a thick layer of ash and dirt. Only her eyes seemed noticeable. They were green and her look was wary, it was almost as if she was ready to run if Hades made one aggressive step. Long blonde hair ran in tangled waves down her back, laced with leaves, mud and fragments of broken twigs. Slowly, the girl patted down her tattered white dress pointlessly rubbing her filthy fingers down the fabric as if she had any hope of cleaning the thing. She gave off an uncomfortable vibe, a familiarity that the lord of the Underworld couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was irritating!

After another moment of silent awkwardness, the girl suddenly jumped back to her senses like a rabbit who had just become aware of a fox stalking it and offered Hades a hand. In contradiction to the rest of her appearance, the girl wore a ring on nearly every finger, portraying a sense of great wealth in which Hades had reason to believe she didn’t possess. Judgementally, he looked at her hand before taking it, pulling himself up with so much force that the young girl was nearly sent toppling over. Although he towered over her mortal form, the girl was rather tall for her age (which he’d presumed to be around eighteen or so) but, there was nothing of her. As she moved, the muscles which she did have seemed to press against her skin, so close that they could’ve burst through.

“My name is Maya,” Even the name sounded familiar and Hades’ found his mind reeling with an unimportant thought process. Where had he seen her before?

“I don’t care.” Hades’ words came out stoic, unrefined and harsh- as he’d intended them to be. He couldn’t afford to be wasting his time with mortal adolescents.

The girl smirked at him playfully, clearly amused by his standoffish behaviour, “Someone’s still riled up from their family argument.”

In a flash, Hades had grabbed Maya’s jaw in a tight hold, his fingers digging so deeply into her flesh that he was sure his nails were drawing blood. “How do you-” His words trailed off, failing him and the itching familiarity finally clicked into place.

“You’re a child of Hermes?” He scowled, letting go of her as she tilted her head into a nod. “My nephew always took far to much liking to mortals. We agreed never to have children with mortals years ago.” Everything about Maya suddenly made sense, her features, her ectomorphic form and even the rings on her fingers. She was a thief, just like her father and they looked similar too.

“I don’t like him either.” 

Hades frowned, his triumph at discovering who her sire was slowly melting back to his normal callous nature where he was comfortable with it being placed, “So you’re here to give me a message?”

Maya snorted, half angry, half amused, “Do I look like some sort of courier to you? Just because my father is the God of messengers doesn’t mean I'm his trainee. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not even meant to know that you’ve been made mortal by the other Gods. You really upset them there didn't you?”

Anger swirled inside Hades’ chest at her condescending tone and although he wanted nothing more than to strangle the brat, he knew he could not afford to upset his family any more than he already had. “Then. Why. Are. You. Here?” His words were deliberate as he tried to ease the rage that burned inside him.

“I’m going to help you get your powers back and get back to the Underworld.”

“I don’t need your help, you’re just a mortal thief.”

“A good thief doesn't just steal possessions. They steal secrets. I know how to get you back to the underworld with you and you’re precious powers reunited as one.” Her words were smooth and Hades who himself was  an expert in manipulation could detect no lies in them. She was completely sure of herself, gazing at him now with a complete lack of fear.

“No one does anything for free. You want payment.” He regarded the pouch which sat nestled next to a clean dagger in her belt.

“Quite right. I do expect payment, though nothing much considering. I just need you to promise to give me one thing when the time comes. Just promise me that.” Her final sentence etched with emotion and Hades’ narrowed his eyes at the troubled girl.

One thing? What was she after? Hades let out a long drawn sigh of distaste. He did not like being in debt to anyone, especially not a mortal. Desperation was a horrible situation, he was understanding that now and Hades’ fingers curled into fists. He was even more angrier at his bastard brothers than he had been before.

“Fine.” He growled out eventually, “I promise.”

[writersblockwarriors]

Days Of The Week Personified: Monday:

Monday’s darkened eyes gleamed from sunken, decrepit sockets with a morbid hate for humanity as he watched the annoying, adolescent brats glide past his window on their squeaky, irritable bikes. Did they not know how early it was? He scowled and snatched his mouldy blinds shut with a satisfying snap before grabbing his mug of coffee and skirting back to the living room. His feet didn’t even lift off the ground once as he shuffled; it was almost as if something was weighing him down; something immobilising. 

He hadn’t stepped out of the house for almost eight years and his skin was a mosaic of red blotches and crusted skin which clearly had not been moisturised or taken care of for a very long time. The hair on his head was sparse and almost non existent but, he refused to shave it off, almost out of sheer stubbornness. No one ever saw him, there was absolutely no one in the world to judge him, why would he give a damn about his appearance?

People didn’t tend to like Monday, and quite frankly, the feeling was mutual. People interrupted his perfect, reclusive solitude with their complaints about work and being tired. The people that saw him, would cross the road just to avoid his gaze, He hated it. One of the few things he enjoyed in his life was being alone. Day after day, Monday would get up early, at roughly 6am and go downstairs to watch television all day in his dressing gown and slippers.

It was luxury. 

Of course, Monday was never truly happy, merely distracted. After years of people complaining about him, he too had become the embodiment of bitterness, always finding something to scoff about whether it be the teenagers campaigning for climate change to be resolved or the ridiculous amount of money footballers got these days. 

Slowly, Monday sat down on his ancient armchair; ignoring the stifling pain in his lower back as he did so. The chair was almost as wrinkled as he was and the green tartan fabric was covered with old stains and small tears that had extended their reach over the years. It was probably one of the most uncomfortable chairs known to man and still Monday refused to get rid. A crackhead of a therapist would say that it was because he felt a connection to the chair; it was old and forgotten and made everyone grimace upon getting within mere inches of it. Did that sound familiar to him? Yes. But, the real reason why Monday refused to let go of the ghastly piece of furniture was because he despised change. Change was the signal of passing time; something in which he also hated.

Several brooding hours passed, in a dull, blissful, numb flash. Monday was fixated on the television gameshow. His yellowing fingers, riddled with arthritis clutched at the arms of his chair in anger as the contestant got yet another answer wrong.

“Idiot.” He muttered, shaking his head in disgust as he took a sip from his now ice cold tea. “The answer was obviously-”

A knock on the door interrupted his out loud rant and Monday froze. His eyes scrunched shut in an effort to stop rage from overwhelming him. For the past couple of weeks, a young boy had been coming around insisting that they talk to ease Monday’s loneliness. At first, the old man had accepted out of mere shock, he had assumed to chase the kid off after the first visit but, he turned out to be more pestering than Monday had first thought and was now inviting himself round every other day,

It took Monday a while to get to his feet and walk to the door; he hoped it had been long enough that the kid would have grown bored and left but, as he pulled open the door to face a beaming ten year old his hopes were shattered. “Kid, I don’t know why you keep coming round to bother me, I’m nobody's favourite person.” He explained gesturing him to come inside for shelter from the bitter winds of October.

The boy hurried in and quickly sat down to take off his shoes with an impatient tug. “It’s a nice thing to do isn't it? Speaking to the elderly?” He looked up at Monday cheekily, brown hair slightly obscuring his face from view. Monday stared at him, his blue eyes filled with such excitement that the old man had almost forgotten. Youth was tiring to even look at, yet contemplate and he grumbled at the boy’s comment.

“Sorry...But I mean it. I spend the days that I’m not in school, waiting to be back. I like seeing my friends. They keep me going every week. But you don’t have any friends. No one looks forward to seeing you.”

“I don’t need a friend,” Monday insisted.

“I thought I could be your friend. Then we could look forward to seeing each other every week. My mum says I have to be home by six though. Do you have cards?” He stood up and wandered into the kitchen and began rummaging through Monday’s cupboards. “My Dad’s been teaching me poker. I reckon I could beat you!” He continued, yelling from the kitchen. 

Monday scowled again. He didn’t like people disturbing his peace and he certainly wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life waiting in anticipation to teach some kid how to gamble. But, the kid had said he would look forward to seeing Monday every week. 

No one had ever looked forward to seeing him... 

His lips curled into a chapped smile at the thought. Maybe some company wouldn't be too bad.

[writersblockwarriors]

The Man Who Hung Himself From The Moon:

I am the man who hung himself from the moon.

That pretty shining orb, I hung myself from too soon.

The thick, undying silk around my throat.

Failed to keep me warm, like a coat.

I am the man who wanted to hang with the stars.

Eternal sleep, nestled close to mars. 

The stars screamed at me, begged me to stop.

But I was willing to dangle there and be Night’s prop.

I am the man who wanted to rise every night.

My corpse illuminating the bright, white light. 

And overcome,

The burning, overbearing, powerful sun.

I am the man that longed to be the focus of telescopes.

Who wanted astronomers to gleam in awe as I swung from my rope.

My should-be rotting body preserved evermore.

From the planetary moon which the universe once bore.

[writersblockwarriors]

Siblings At War

“You’ve always been far too obsessed with chess, brother,” Athena observed, watching her brother place the pieces on the wooden board with such a delicacy she thought him incapable of. Idris laughed, a smirk itching at the corner of his lips, “Chess, no, little sister but strategy yes. Strategy wins wars, saves lives, something you would know little about.” Athena winced at that, her mind once again filling up with the images of flames, and swords slicing at innocent throats. Her fingers curled into fists in their shackles, “you killed them. Not me. You chose to kill those people,” she replied coldly. Shaking his head, her brother smiled almost amused at her comment, “Sister, you cannot expect to fight a civil war without a few deaths. But they’re meaningless right? Just a few peasants-“ “I didn’t say that! I never said that!” Athena smacked the table in anger and watched as the pieces wobbled. They didn’t fall, they merely shook slightly. She was so weak she couldn’t even knock over some marble figurines. It was disgusting.

Athena felt sick at the memories, soldiers who had bravely chosen to follow her, to believe in her, falling in defeat. Their blood was meaninglessly spilt, for a badly prepared attack. She had just wanted to end the suffering, to end her brother’s reign of incomprehensible terror. By acting quickly, determined to save more lives, she had cost more. That guilt clawed at her chest. Slowly, the young girl lifted her head, tangled curls slightly obscuring her vision. Idris frowned, “You didn’t have to say it. It was clear in the way you treated them, you didn’t think about them until they were being burned alive.” Nausea burned in Athena’s throat and she swallowed hard trying to ignore the violent sting. “You can be white,” Idris offered after several moments of painful silence. Athena stared hard at the board, anger etched all over her face. “I don’t want to play games Idris.” He glanced up at her, an uncomfortable, mischievous scowl on his face, “come now, surely this is better than the cell you’ve been wasting away in.” She licked her lips anxiously at that. Athena didn’t know which one she preferred, the isolation of a prisoners cell where she could sit and think about all the mistakes she’d made or up in the palace with her brother mocking her every move. “What happens if I win?” Idris smirked, “you always want a prize don’t you Athena? Something to acknowledge your importance. How about if you win, I’ll give you an option on how you would like to be executed next week?” “Sword to the chest.” Athena said albeit a little two quickly. Being locked away gave her a lot of spare time to think, she knew Idris wasn’t going to spare her for her crimes and she’d had a lot of time to think about how she would like to die. Before he could respond she quickly added, “and not an executioner. You. I want to see your face as you kill your own blood. I want to see the moment you condemn me to Hell.” He laughed sending a shiver down her spine, leaning in until she could feel his breath on her face, “And I will gladly send you there.”

Athena scowled and clasped one of the pawns, a representation of one of her soldiers. Perhaps, she could look after the tiny statues better than her own men...

[writersblockwarriors]

Nature Versus Nurture

“You were born evil. I was born good.” Raphael said bluntly, the gun in his hands perfectly still despite the tight anxiety fluttering into his chest. His police uniform suddenly felt hot, uncomfortable.

“No.” Ajax growled his voice dripping with contempt. “They sent me away and made me evil. I wasn’t born this way. I was a baby who wanted food, milk and love. They made me like this.” The tone of his voice was cold, heartless and unempathetic. His dark eyes gazed hard down the barrel Raphael was pointing at him almost longingly. 

“You’ve killed people.” Raphael protested, “I’ve seen you.”

Carelessly, Ajax crossed his arms and leant back against the wall behind him, “Yes,” he admitted, “And I enjoy it, because I get praise from it. In the same way you get praised for saving people. We’re not so unalike, you and I.”

Angrily, Raphael cocked the gun, “I’m nothing like you! You’re a monster.” 

“A monster?” Ajax chuckled pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal flesh that had been slashed over and over again, scar upon scar and wound upon wound. “If I’m the monster, tell me, would a monster have a mosaic of their broken character etched into their skin? No. You don’t have any idea what it’s like to feel pain.” He was snarling now, teeth exposed wolfishly.

“If I bring others pain, it spares me facing it, do you not understand that golden boy? The world of butterflies and tender kisses when you make a mistake doesn’t exist. Kill me if you must, in fact, it would be doing me a favour. Oh...” He paused momentarily, “but you’re the good one, you can’t shoot me.”

Raphael’s hand began to shake. He had always been told that the world was black and white, full of either good or bad, and here in front of him covered in marks of a previous abuser was the embodiment of the colour grey. 

“You need help-”

“No, I needed help!” Ajax shouted, his voice so rough that Raphael felt himself flinch. “ I needed help ten years ago. Do you know how old I was the first time I shot a man? Seven. And I remember holding the gun and being so afraid of being beaten if I didn’t refuse. Where were you and all your police friends then? No where. You don’t stop evil, you only stop the victims of its manifestations.”

Raphael spluttered on his words, unsure of what to say. How did you comfort someone who was so deranged? So beyond repair? His mind reeled, throbbing painfully. 

Slowly, Ajax uncrossed his arms laughing and took a step towards Raphael. The police officer jumped at the sight of movement and automatically his finger curled around the trigger and pressed down.

All he saw was blood.

[writersblockwarriors]

Floor Me With Flawed Beauty...

Floor me with flawed beauty,

And let me dance with you all night,

Kiss me with pure ruby,

And together we’ll be light.

Let me grip your fingers with a gentle embrace,

As we sway from side to side,

Wow me with your melancholic Grace,

And make our love amplified.

Wicked angel, sing with broken wings!

About all of those that have wronged you,

And cut those puppeteer's strings.

Stay with me, and each day arouse,

At the altar, and let me take your heart,

As we speak those binding vows:

Till death do us part!

[writersblockwarriors]

The Stress You Apply,

It should feel weird to wake up and be stressed 

It should feel strange having to rush and supress, 

Watching videos till three in the morning, 

Of how to write a narrative account that I find boring. 

 I shouldn’t feel so empty, with a head full of knowledge, 

Trying to balance twenty-six exams so I can get to college. 

Locking myself away in a bedroom to hold a pen and sob, 

About how not knowing the general quadratic equation will cost me a job. 

 Squeezing eight hours of revision in per night, 

Failing to convince myself that I’ll be alright. 

There is too much content, not enough time. 

Unlike William Wordsworth, there is no sublime. 

 The results, no matter what level, 

Will be evidence of the devil, 

Construed in my useless, emotion-full mind, 

Of me, a sixteen-year-old, 

Whose mental health was left behind. 

[writersblockwarriors]

Too Young To Fight

The sword in Rey’s hands suddenly felt uncomfortable in her grasp, too big and far too smooth for her sweaty hands to be able to maintain a firm grip. Her chest hammered against her ribcage and her mind swirled with a hundred thoughts. This was it. This was the moment she had been preparing for her entire life.

A horrible swarm of nausea enclosed around the girl as she took a step towards the door knowing that beyond them would be her greatest enemy. They had been training her for this, hours of hard, torturous and monotonous work was about to be put to use. She was ready…She was ready…Those were the words that she kept telling herself over and over again as she inhaled and exhaled sharp, anxious breaths. Somewhat gingerly, Rey reached out her hand, the delicate skin of her fingers crawling out from the protection of a heavy, hindering gauntlet.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting but, this definitely wasn’t it. She had expected him to at least be ready to fight, with a weapon in hand, but, instead, he stood with his back to her staring out of the window at the thunderous night.

“You’ve done better than I expected,” he said. Rey’s stomach churned at the sound of it, cold, brazen and unempathetic. Without replying, she took a step closer.

“But, you aren’t ready to fight me, little one. You are far too young and far too unprepared. I pity you almost as much as I hate the ones you call your masters. They don’t care about you.” The words came out of his mouth like a bullet to the heart.

“Let’s not pretend you know me,” she managed angrily, “You don’t know me or my life.” 

The villain took step towards her, then another and another, until his form was towering over hers. His dark eyes gleamed down at her with a twisted sense of sympathy. “No, I don’t know you, but I know the hundreds before you that they have sent to defeat me. They are too scared, too afraid, too cowardice to face me themselves that they send children to try and defeat me.”

Resisting the urge to take a step back, Rey forced herself to stay strong, though her brave composure sagged a little at his mention of previous prodigies. They hadn’t ever mentioned previous heroes. She had always thought she was special…

“You don’t want to fight me little one,” he assured gently. “You won’t win and I’d hate to have to do to you what I was forced to do to them.

Defiantly, Rey raised her sword and swung.

[writersblockwarriors]

Welcome!

I started this writing blog for my Silver Duke of Edinburgh Award but I hope to continue it in future. Here you will find Snippets of small stories or potentially series if my wandering brain allows me to stay engaged. Feel free to send me snippets or concept requests and I’ll try to get through as many as possible. Please read the rules below:

1) These snippets are mine, they are not prompts and you can’t use them for your own stories

2) If you reblog these in any way please give me credit

3) I want to expand as a writer so I’ll try to get through as many unique concepts as possible.

4) Please comment on what I can improve on!