urblackcat

let us recall  the best effects of style when those who listen know how best to hear and do not injure those who hold most dear the hidden blessings of the final mile rather they wish the urgent to beguile expecting that the best might engineer sounds that will please the most discerning ear and lead once drooping eyes to shine and smile the age of wonder has no fixed return but comes upon us as we seem to find not a changed world but a remarked abode the home that we have loved for which we yearn that seemed so hidden for time out of mind appear before us as we climb the road

You know that you have a Mary Sue when she upsets the monochromatic color scheme of my Writer's Guides. Mouse over blue text to see a note. Internet communities often lash out at writers who create Mary Sues. Declaring the writing to be below their standards, they proceed to punish the creators. They mock the characters, verbally abuse the writers, and write hyperbolically about how much they wish the characters would die. Bullying writers (who may be very young) is only going to make them afraid to write—and therefore improve—or share their work. Not only that, but it discourages other writers from speaking for fear of public

She singled him out of the rest of the people in the waiting room, because he was wearing an ascot as a scarf like he didn’t know the difference. Maybe he didn’t. His shoes didn’t match; one was red and the other was black, though they were both chucks. Behind his glasses, his eyes peered out a pallid, self reflective grey. An image of him smiling came to her, and made her smile in turn. Then she decided to notice the empty seat beside him and got up. She sat beside him with a whump sound and he didn’t look up. This one looked promising. “So...” she said, “have you noticed that the lady over there, t

We were directly opposed, circling each other in a confining pool, my mouth seeking yours, but only finding the fragments of composure you left in your wake. "Nunc scio quid sit Amor", you said once, and I agreed with you, then looked up what the hell you meant as soon as I was alone. We went stargazing when we were hungry and fed ourselves with the names and the glow of all the stars that spread themselves out to tease us. "This is what I see in you," you flattered, pointing at the sky while the wetness of the grass soaked into our backs. "You're that string of pearls, right there, hanging around the neck of the sky. You are more than wh

Curled like a tadpole in the confines of the ball turret, he slips into his mind and enters the first nautilus ring of memory. i. He sees a potting shed littered with terra cotta fragments, soft loam, and quietly rotting tomato vines. It is fall now, and the place hasn't been used for nearly a month, not that his mother was ever much of a gardener - she prefers the career of a socialite, and complains constantly about this heathen life in the country. His father yells whenever she embarks on a new tirade, and his mother drinks something out of a square-cut glass bottle that looks as though it were pilfered from Oz, and then everything is st

my mother flicks her cigarette switches on the flame under the black cast-iron hair gleaming titian in the lamp-light when she sees me and boils over my head hits the bittersweet wall-to-wall cosmos in my eyes trapped under the table like evenings of liver onions limas and sit there until you eat i guard the injuries turning from indigo to pitch

you found a boy in the ashes and you made him a star ; a mere pile of dust and leaden colours but oh, how he shone fools wish upon shining stars, and fools fall in love ; twice he made you for a fool but oh, how he shone he's a boy, just a boy but stars have to burn to shine brighter, and your artist heart melted as the burning dust boy grew darker, dry and shrivelled and harsh, but still-- still -- he shone boys are cruel, and stars even more so ; hard and bright and so far away lost in their own time but oh, how they shine and oh, how they shine

                                        How are you? I am fine, thank you.                                                                       Stop lying…                                    How was your weekend? It was great, tons of fun!                                                Besides the nights I spent crying….                                  Are you sure you’re okay? Yeah, of course I am fine.                                                    No I’m not I am in so much pain….                                Can you imagine being alone? No, that would be horrible!