Kakikotoba means "the written word" in Japanese.
This group is dedicated to the written word! Anything related to the written word is accepted here.
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Anything written is allowed (short stories, longer works, poetry, prose, fan fiction, songs, plays, quotes, etc.)
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Peace RiverA rough-hewn canoe slips through the tannin headwaters
Past groves of tamarack and birch; jumbles of mossy boulders
Also sit along the banks, their angular planes chiseled...
Formed perhaps as God pondered the drift of blue stars across
A black void.
The void drew His eye as the whirlpool draws the soul across the river
To dare its jealousy, following the errant maple leaves
Spinning down, gently in the current:
Sighing as it revolves:
The leaf is watching the sky turn
Field to sky to birch to sky to rock to dark folds enclosing
As the velvet current closes the curtain for good.
Seduction in the Orange Groves
In rows of citrus trees the workers tend
My fam’ly’s enterprise a century.
Among Valencia where I would fend,
And since I came of age they all could see—
The girl-turned-woman child is like an orange,
With flesh as smooth & scented of its bloom.
Don’t ever taste the skin of burnished orb;
Must leave the tree, deny of its perfume.
They also knew the foreman had his sight
To pluck the succulent from off the tree.
He could not reckon such a dare would bite,
How willingly to tempt the Fates was he.
Yet to his nerve & swagger I was drawn
In spite the station of my pedigree.
And so it was one day at break of dawn
We met beneath the tree he knew I’d be.
The heavy-lidded eyes’ belie intent,
My efforts hew much closer to the source.
To find his poverty from words’ infest,
Lest oft’ I may betray a truer course.
It cannot liken to his wax & wane,
Of what is ripe in needful harvest tryst.
In twilight chill, the smudge pots in the rain,
A New LifeA New Life
The turns you had to take still keep you awake
Because in a world this cold, it’s easy to ignore the mistakes you make
But you’re no fool
And it’s hard to pretend that we’re doing okay
Even in your own home
If you get back on that bus now, you’ll still make it
Cumulus and Stratus
You think that water is the color blue,
That ocean currents imitate the wind.
And where it ends beyond the height of clouds,
That’s where the sky of me will turn to black
Where neither air nor astronauts may live.
Yes I’m the sky and all the rest is air.
If not for me there’d be no atrium,
To hold within the weather and the rain
From where the cumulus and stratus play.
The teeming life that feeds on coral beds,
The orca pods who prey on lesser whales,
As porpoise with their echos guide their young.
The snow on summits where no birds can reach.
The forest at its base, bears hibernate.
The sockeye who return from whence their birth,
And beneficial run-offs where they spawn.
The tribe who grazes stock & gathers fruit,
And nomads follow zebra to the stream.
The fishermen who cast their nets afar,
The children who play naked in the surf.
Oh SelenaOh Selena, how I think of you,
it makes me so blue.
You were a wonderful star,
to me, you're never far.
Your smile was bright,
it was like a light.
Oh Selena, you had great singing,
it was as pretty as a ring.
You've really touched my life,
what happened is more painful than a knife,
Oh Selena, I can't pick a favorite song,
it would take too long.
Oh Selena, I also get mad a lot,
I feel myself get hot.
What happened was so absurd,
it was the last thing you deserved.
Oh Selena, I often think of you,
and somehow I know you think of me too.
400 Words of Hope400 Words of Hope
Nikki looked at the giant on the other side of the fence. The fence was made to separate her village from the monster city. Her village believed that all the monsters on the other side were evil and should not be trusted.
She was one of the few people that believed that with honesty and love, the village could work with the monsters and get along. However, the people of the village, even her parents, did not take her seriously due to her young age. Being only five years old, people thought that she was too young to make decisions like these.
What Nikki’s parents didn’t know was that she had formed a friendship with the giant on the other side of the fence. They have been talking to each other about the situations on both sides when it came to reaching peace. It did’t look good, and the relations between the monsters and the villagers had in face gotten worse due to a recent string of attacks by some monsters.
Tomorrow, her parents would go into battl
Melissa the MermaidNear the Hawaiian Islands there lived a tween mermaid named Melissa. She had long curly light-brown hair, bright green eyes, and an orange tail. She wore a short pearl necklace with a starfish in the middle. Melissa was playful and full of energy, all her fellow merfolk loved her.
One day, Melissa and a few of her friends were playing tag near the surface. A fisherman saw Melissa and dropped a net over her! The young mermaid frantically tried to untangle the net, but to no avail. “Help me, please!”, Melissa cried out to her pals. They were just about to try and free her when the fisherman pulled her up on his boat and set sail back to land.
The captured mermaid was placed in a tank at an aquarium. The fisherman who caught her received a large sum of money, and he became famous very fast. As for Melissa, she immediately became the aquarium’s biggest attraction. Humans from around the world came to see her.
100 Words of Weird100 Words of Weird
“NO! You have to put the orange bow over there, next to the purple ones!” a woman in a black trench coat yelled at a red headed girl in glasses on top of a ladder.
“I can’t reach it! It’s too far to the left!” the redhead yelled back. The trench coated woman responded by kicking the ladder, causing the girl to fall into a barrel of white paint.
“We have to get this ready for the party! It’s only a few hours away, so pick up the pace!” she responded before walking away.
Royal Academy EP7Royal Academy 為生学園
Episode 7 – Fire & Ice
The student council chambers were silent. The twilight of dawn cast a blue gloom over Isei. Sarako Himise stood in the dimly lit room knowing she had arrived at school early enough to not be interrupted by anyone else. She stood behind the council president’s desk, tapping her foot, arms crossed with her back facing the door. She didn’t like to be kept waiting; perhaps this was well known because the door to the council room opened as she finished her thought.
Sarako turned around to see a man of average height. He had dark, slightly curly hair pulled into a small, low ponytail. His face had the shadow of scruff and there were dark circles under his eyes as if he didn’t sleep much. Despit
Royal Academy EP6Royal Academy 為生学園
Episode 6 – Rush Week
The window was rolled down just enough for the lens of the camera to get a good shot of the gates. The car was black and nondescript with tinted windows, parked just outside the manor. The house was traditional, everything from bonsai trees, stone gardens, sliding doors and tatami flooring. It looked just as expensive as it probably was. Tall walls hid the inner grounds of the manor, allowing only its brown roof and the tops of hedges and trees to show. He snapped a few pictures of the outside, just for reference, and waited. It was morning, and the birds sang while the morning sun dried the early dew.
A car pulled up. It was dark blue and polished. It only took a few minutes for the black gates to final
Death and Life by VoodooIt was a bright, sunny day in Jacksonville, Florida. Just outside of the city, a small group of college students was taking a stroll on a trail through a forest. Then they decided to get closer to a stream just by the trail. There were a bunch of neat-looking plants by the stream the students wanted to check out. They were studying biology, and even though it was summer vacation the students wanted to continue studying plants and animals in their spare time.
All was going well, until one of the college students, Rick Thompson, slipped and fell into the stream. “Woo, way to go Rick!” cried out his friends; Sally Smith, Brian O’Reilly, and Ellen Mullins.
“Very funny!” Rick said sarcastically. Then he called out, “Could you come down here? I think I found something!”
Since it was a hot summer day, his pals didn’t mind climbing down into the stream too. They felt around under the water where Rick landed. “I guess you did discover someth
Affection of a Ghost In a dull, lonesome graveyard there dwelled a young ghost named Todd. He had been a ghost for several years. He envied the living; however he did not frighten or harm them in any way. Todd merely yearned to be among the living again. In a cottage right next to the graveyard, hidden by the thick trees, weeds, and bushes, lived Vincent, a mysterious warlock. Todd knew it was very well possible Vincent could make him alive again, but he was too scared to ask. What if Vincent had a cold personality, or just simply wouldn’t do it?
One day a young girl and her parents moved into a big house not very far from the graveyard. Of course Todd was curious to see them. He saw the family moving their belongings into their new home, and before long they got settled in. Todd noticed the girl, and started having a crush on her. After she and her parents got settled in, Todd went by their home one day, and noti
Letters to Marileen | 3 ~ Your Friend, the Reaper Three days after her initial arrival, Marileen tended toward bounding around the house in an attempt to hang out with both of her roommates at the same time. She talked quickly and couldn't sit still, leaving Handwing in a dizzied, tired state. He often felt the urge to nap after his interactions with her. What really irked him, though, was she always seemed to get into his stash. He tried to talk to Vilkas about it and was met with a response that infuriated him.
“Uh, they’re technically mine,” he’d said matter-of-factly, “you used my money to buy them.”
Vilkas was just lucky he had a point, and that Handwing’s arm was still broken. He had to clench his fists and grit his teeth to stop himself from punching Vilkas right in the jaw. But it wasn’t the only thing that infuriated him…
“Hi Codry, how are you?”
Silence in the White Noise(A couch is centered in the room, a table with neat clutter such as books, notepads, etc is in front of the couch. There is a desk on the left side with a computer, beside that desk are multiple milk crates filled with radios. Everything in the room is of neutral tones besides a bright red radio on a lone side table. ENTERS RADIO, he wears bright colours that do not match and clearly clash with each other. Patterns are acceptable replacements. RADIO turns on the radio to a low, static filled tune that fades out and becomes a background noise. RADIO begins dancing.)
RADIO: (dances to static tune)
ELIZA: (ENTERS) Can you turn that down a little Radio? I’m trying to write an essay.
RADIO: Oh, okay.
(ELIZA EXITS. RADIO goes to the milk crates and begins to pull out more radios. He turns each one on, volume a little louder for each radio. He dances
Treadmill(A couch is centered in the room, a table with neat clutter such as books, notepads, etc is in front of the couch. There is a desk on the left side with a computer. Everything in the room is of neutral tones besides a bright red radio on a lone side table, this radio quietly plays a static-y tune. ELIZA sits on the couch, reading, also wearing neutral colours. ENTERS RADIO, he wears bright colours that do not need to match and clearly clash, stands behind the couch with his back turned to audience and ELIZA. There is no eye contact between the two.)
ELIZA: Hm? (continues reading)
RADIO: Listen, I um..I um wanted ta like say I’m sorry.
ELIZA: It’s fine Radio.
RADIO: Well, I don’t really honestly think tha
I'll Stick to RadiosOkay. So I realize that old, busted radios aren’t cool. They just aren’t man. They’re broken pieces of junk. And you know what. I’m okay with that. They’re ratty, broken, dusty, dirty, and boring. AND NONE OF ‘EM EVER FUCKING WORK……sorry. Anyways. Anyways, anyways. Radios. Back to radios. Always broken, always malfunctioning. Always a hunk of shit in the corner of your basement or attic or outside on your lawn rusting away and goddamnit are they ever fucking broken.
But I. I love ‘em. I have hundreds of ‘em. Stored properly! On tables. On shelves. Never on the ground. I’ve got big ones and little ones and ones that work less than others. But that’s okay, because I can fix ‘em. I reach inside their shells and take all the wires out and replace ‘em and clean the insides and add new things and old things and un-rusted things to make ‘em work. I make ‘em real. I let ‘em breathe. I let
Ichabod Crane: Captive SoulThe flaming pumpkin struck Ichabod Crane with surprising force. Next thing the schoolmaster knew, he was falling backward off his horse and quickly blacked out. Before long, Ichabod awoke in the same spot. But he was standing instead of laying on the ground. He glanced around, searching for Gunpowder the horse. Alas, the animal was nowhere to be seen.
Then Ichabod noticed his hat laying next to the shattered pumpkin. He knelt and tried to pick it up, but to the schoolmaster’s horror his hand passed right through the hat! Ichabod then attempted to pick up the shattered pumpkin bits, but with the same result. Not sure what to do, he ran across the bridge. It wasn’t until after he arrived on the other side, that Ichabod realized his footsteps didn’t make any noise! He then walked up to the brook and looked in the water. To the poor fellow’s terror, he had no reflection! It was still dark
kill me with wordsIf you took a needle, pushed it into my skin and
watched me bleed,
If I told you it hurt, does that make me a liar?
When words fall from your lips and stick to me like thorns,
why is it my job to pull them free and tend to the wounds?
You put them there in the first place, but that doesn't matter.
If I wear my pain on my face, you roll your eyes and say,
"Oh, it's not so bad. Stop being so dramatic."
I hate that word.
I hate it for its glibness, the blithe dismissal that I am merely an act,
a pantomime to be mocked and forgotten within mere moments.
As if my own heart is nothing to be taken seriously.
"You're being oversensitive."
It's easy for you to say that, isn't it?
Because nobody ever sees the damage that words can do.
There are no bruises to flower on my skin, dark and wide just beneath the surface.
You cannot hear the crack of bone as my body bears the brunt of some heavy impact.
Instead, there is a gradual change.
Something in you freezes over time. Wha
Open: English Tutoring, Editing, Proofreading
As I'm in debt I have a deal. Until I delete this, I will tutor anyone for $10 per session. This means for however long you can set in your schedule for tutoring, whether it's two or three hours, I will only charge $10. I might do $5 an hour if you need that.
Also, another reminder I'm willing to do any kind of proofreading or editing. As long as I have debt I'm always going to be open if you need me in the future. Please keep me in mind, whether it's for tutoring or editing. Thank you!
English Tutoring for Reading and Writing (or subjects written in English)
I would like to tutor people online who have trouble with English writing, reading, or speaking, or think their child needs additional help. Sharing my passion for English and writing has always been a dream of mine from when I was a child.
What you are looking for:
Open: Writing Commissions
UPDATE: I will now accept commissions for personal or online professional blog posts, articles, essays, email marketing letters, or any kind of website content for your personal or business use. Price rates will be gauged by word count or work required, whatever we agree on. This update is to give me professional copywriting/copyediting experience, and I would prefer if you will allow me to use them as samples in my job portfolio/writing work for me to better my chances at getting hired at a company; I do not have decent samples/experience. Also, if you are from a company and need a quick, private/semi-private commission, I will accept your order as well.
I do not have a recent blog post, but you may use this bulletin or the tutoring journal posted above as a reference of how I write a professional marketing of myself. It also includes
Drowning Sirens: Chapter One
Chapter One: Voyeurism
"How many kids do you have?"
A voice crowed from across a large maroon fence separating all the neighborhood's front yards. Deanna Finnegan accidentally dropped the large box marked "breakable" and cringed at the sound of shattering dinner plates. She clenched her fists nervously and caught the eyes of her disapproving stepmother in her peripheral vision.
"Just pick it up, Deanna." The immediate Mrs. Finnegan ordered, raising her tone at the end of the sentence to intensify her disdain. Deanna scowled and watched curiously as her father crept towards the large fence until he came face to face, so to speak, with a large, gray eye. He knocked on the wood which caused the voyeur to turn away.
Deanna followed her father to the end of the fence and listened as the new neighbors made their introductions. "Hi, my name's Liam Finnegan, and this is my daughter, Deanna." Deanna nodded politely, grateful to be out of her stepmother's line of vision.
Drowning Sirens: Prologue
Prologue: A picture is worth a thousand words...
Just off the Gulf of Mexico Mrs. Waverly was peeling the skin from a boiled shrimp she had bought at the market that morning. The steam had begun to rise in her quaint kitchen and she had raised all of her windows to thin the air. The smells of the sea rushed into her house, mixing with the hydrangeas and lavender she had planted outside.
She inhaled deeply and strolled into the living room, wiping her hands on a damp rag. Mrs. Waverly stopped just in front of the bay window facing the ocean basin. Off in the distance she could see the docks and a few fishing boats barely returning from their day's work. She pressed her fingertips against the glass and smiled warmly as the small heads of her children bobbed across a hill of murky white sand.
Mrs. Waverly waved to them generously as they held up their toy buckets in triumph. The face of her eight year-old son was smug and confident while her four-year old daughter's was f
Conversations "Do you think I'll ever get good enough," I whisper in the dark.
"I don't know. It depends.. How hard are you willing to try, how far are you wiling to go ? To what heights will you climb?"
"...there's just so much to explore.. I don't know if I can ever even find it all."
"It's not finding it all, seeing it all, or knowing it all that counts. It's the thrill of finding it.
It's the hidden feeling you hear in a word. The secret crevice so unexplored by society. Be the one to search it out. Find it's hidden meanings. It's waiting for you, to make it your own. So step up, claim it. It's your right. It's anybody's right willing to try hard enough. Be different; be yourself."
Taking the first step of my journey, I toggled out. Sure I was a little unconfident, but I was going. That's what counts.
Soavist Quote: Internal TimebombAs ourselves, only we have the true power to disable our personal explosives. Sadly only too late do we realise this, so when one (another person) wishes to attempt such a feat- allow them. No, they may not have attained the true means to diffuse you, but neither do you more often than not. Even you alone do all this for temporary measures with shoddy tools- you know not how to utilise; for they are yourself.
Someone will too possess these shoddy tools and lack of experience, but just because you cannot does not mean they cannot. It is greatly astonishing to see how observing from differing points of view, frequently gives one an alternate perspective, and so a, perhaps not the, means to do the seemingly unexpectedly impossible.
ECSTATIC (feat. Ecstasy*)There comes a time
When lovers are just friends without a means.
It’s not too long
Before you find romance is just a scene.
Becomes a fact that steals all your dreams.
And then they die
When you believe there’s nothing in between...
You make me ecstatic —
Even when I’m feelin’ sad
Just because I know the truth.
You got me ecstatic —
Desperation setting in,
Has no bite without a tooth.
You spell out ecstatic —
In the dictionary there’s
A picture just like you.
I feel you, ecstatic —
Taking over me and there’s
Just nothing I can do...
There comes a time
When lovers are just friends without a means.
Ulterior Motives in StoriesSubjectivity relates to what we prefer. Objectivity relates to how something is despite how we feel about it. Some stories are objectively better quality than others. If we enjoy or get something out of a bad story it's because there was something good in us, not the story.
A story that fails to live up to the standards it set for itself or has a foundation built on the sand is failing in quality. We can debate whether or not it fails in this way. Refusing to acknowledge that there can be real levels of quality in storytelling because everything is "subjective" is the thing that's close-minded.
The best stories are the most particular. The authors have certain things they will and won't do. Their reasons for doing so may be different, but there's thought behind it. It's wheedled down to exactly what the author knows they want. Their stories aren't interesting because they said, "Everything is subjective, therefore I don't need to have beliefs at all, and I'll just carelessly
Die Wurzel allen Uebels
Seit Stunden marschierten sie nun schon durch diesen dichten Nebel, ohne wirklich zu wissen, ob sie die richtige Richtung eingeschlagen hatten. Thor blickte finster drein und hatte die Zähne aufeinander gepresst, denn in ihm wuchs langsam der Unmut und die Wut auf seinen Reisegenossen.
Von Asgard aus hatten sie Lichtalfenheim durchquert, bis sie schließlich an der Grenze von Nifelheim angelangt waren. Vor ihnen hatte sich eine trostlose Landschaft aufgetan, in der eisige Kälte und wabernde Nebelschwaden vorherrschten.
Der Knabe, dessen Gestalt der listige Loki angenommen hatte, war leichtmütig drauf losmarschiert und hatte Thor verkündet, sie bräuchten nur ihren Schritten zu folgen, die würden ihnen schon den richtigen Weg zeigen. Dem Donnergott war nicht viel übrig geblieben, als Loki zu vertrauen, war dieser doch für seine List und Schläue bekannt.
Doch nach und nach war sein von Grund auf vorhandenes Misstrauen Loki gegenüber ge
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