I had never understood the term ‘deafening silence’ until now. It was deadly quiet as I lay on my bed, not even the ticking of an analogue clock to lull me to sleep. I was half-expecting a monster to lunge out of my closed wardrobe, glowing red eyes and razor sharp claws. But monsters like that aren’t real. They tend to be more devious, more subtle. My breathing is soft but my mind is whirring, thinking and over-thinking. The bare walls are unfamiliar to me, the silence unbearable at my new house. It is as if a tuning fork has been stuck and held against my ears, consuming my hearing. It is everything and I fear I will go mad with it. The thought of killing myself to end the suffering wanders through my mind, becoming more appealing as each invisible second goes by. It comes from elsewhere, having a high and low frequency at the same time it seems. Wobbling, quivering in the air, a torturous ever-present vibration.
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Allow my metallic teeth
Graze against your skin
Have my razor sharp tongue
Pick up the beads of blood
Which have been drawn
Claiming you as my own
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» submarine dreams: moderateclimates and submarinedreams present: Tumblr Prom 2012
Dearest writers of tumblr,
You are cordially invited to an evening of beauty and warmth, and straight up tomfoolery!
Bring a date, or show up by yourself. Post a picture of yourself looking your finest, ready to light up the room. On the night of the prom, get ready to show off your suave suits and delightful dresses. Socialize, smile, write, and get your (metaphorical) dance on.We will have voting for Tumblr Prom King and Queen. Ballots are to be submitted directly to Nicky’s askbox (simply because tagging is faulty sometimes). Vote for both a King and Queen, and these results will be tallied and announced on the night of tumblr prom (which, incidentally, will last an entire day in order to allow people from all timezones to attend). Submissions are accepted up until the 31st May 2012.
In addition, Prom Poems will occur. This is much like Secret Santa. To be considered for this part of the prom, RSVP officially to Nicky’s askbox. Your name will be entered into a list, and randomly matched up with another person who is attending the prom. You will be notified of this person. As such, you are then required to write a poem (or a piece of prose, or a limerick, or a haiku, or absolutely anything you want in any format) for the person you’re assigned. Someone secret will be writing a piece for you, too! On the night of the prom, publish this piece with both the person’s URL and #TWCprom as tags. Enjoy the mayhem!
RSVP for Prom Poems is strictly 26 May 2012.
We hope you will join us on 2 June 2012 at the TWC Ballroom, at the corner of Submarine St. and Moderate Ave. You won’t regret it.
Love always,
Amy and Nicky -
"Just because an apple falls one hundred times out of a hundred does not mean it will fall on the hundred and first."Derek Landy
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Sold and Stripped Away
A crack as loud as thunder striking the Earth pierced my ears as the last tree collapsed, unable to hold up the burden of its own weight. It fell, like an innocent angel of the highest order in heaven being struck by God’s almighty force and sent down into the fiery inferno of hell against its will. This wasn’t God’s will at work though; it was humanity’s harsh hand, the trees victim to their destructive ways. Now it lay on the desolate forest floor, once a skyscraper looming over all the other inhabitants, vulnerable to the further abuse of cold-hearted corporation circles. They are an iron maiden, designed to squeeze every drop of life and money from nature; using words such as ‘progress’ and ‘advancement’ to disguise their callous acts. They probably thought that whoever wasn’t in a position of high authority or agreed to their plans were as small minded as the next hick and hippie to walk through their polished revolving doors, protesting against the destruction of the forests.
I turn my back on the obliterated landscape which looked like the aftermath of the nuclear bomb that had targeted the immobile and exposed Yokoshima. My heart feels leaden with regret as I slowly hobble my way back to the awaiting car, fighting back tears. It was a lifetime ago when I watched my father plant the first tree, looking on as the first few seedlings evolved into a whole array of trees. It invited wildlife to the community with fragrant, vibrant flowers and the fluid swaying of newly sprouting leaves during spring. Providing shelter in autumn and winter, welcoming mammals and birds to nest in the grand oaks and pines, like towering columns shooting up into the heavens and reaching for the stars.
I had to sell it though, I thought, knowing that Linda needed the money, especially since her third child was on the way and her husband had been recently diagnosed with cancer. Through her violent sobbing she begged me with a heart breaking sorrow, while my grandchildren played out the back, oblivious to the despaired state their mother was in. The company had approached me several times within the year, asking if I would sell the forest to them. It was like fate was forcing me to sell my forest. I sold a part of myself away when I signed the typed, professional and bleak contract. I unsteadily eased myself into the car, cautious because of my growing arthritis problems. Gently shutting the door I allowed Linda to drive me back, a slight nod the only communication to break the heavy silence between us. Her eyes were hesitant, unsure about starting a conversation or leave me to reminisce on my nostalgic thoughts. The car whizzes past the destroyed forest, and I move from depression to acceptance. I will never forget nor forgive the company that destroyed my second home.
To them, nature is just another dollar bill they can strip away from the Earth.
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» Neil Gaiman: For all the people who ask me for writing advice...
1 Write.
2 Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
3 Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.
4 Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like…
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We collided next to the stars. The explosion was next to the sugar dusted moon, against the stars that shivered against my touch. My heart raced at a jagged pace, setting my mind on edge before I broke through the gravity of your words. The rocket soared, everything shaking, trembling in the ship, shaped streamlined like a fish, to ease the ride out of the world I knew. Parts broke off the ship and soon enough I was floating, no resistance, nothing. When I stared into space, I glimpsed at how far I was and I felt giddy, feeling as if something was going to happen. And it did. You launched yourself from Earth as well, soaring next to me, pleading for me to come back down. But I didn’t yield like so many times before. With a cold, hard smile I looked to you and plainly said no. That was when we got too close, were travelling too fast, closing up the gap between us. Then, there was no space at all, just color and fire, pain and explosion. It was when I finally let go of the world and you fell, fell, fell and I merely floated away, away from gravity, away from my home, away from you.
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"If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather. Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest and best things you will ever do."Stephen Fry (via skelechitophobia)
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I’ve always demanded attention. I scream until my voice is almost gone, until it is like the wind howling in your ears, invisible and alive. Yet I cower away and hide in your shadow when you turn to answer my call. You are breath-taking and frightening. But every time I watch your lurid movements grace the Earth I am entrapped by your beauty, like being offered a glimpse at Hades’ petrifying rage. It is like an otherworldly power, the lure, no the pull, that entrances me. The power and authority you request, and yet the recklessness you radiate intrigues me like a moth to a buzz-zapper. Sooner or later, I’ll get hurt, but I don’t care. So I continue to call out, a hint of hesitance in my hoarse pleas, quivering hidden in the shadows and enthralled by your lightning eyes.
