sharing life through words
We have created this journal in the hope you might share your fiction. The idea is to take time each day to write.
Feel free to offer anything, be it an on-going story, a short piece of fiction, a poem, a riddle, or whatever takes your fancy.
Some days we might offer prompt words, ideas or directions, which you can employ or ignore. This is simply to encourage more writing, more criticism, and more of a word-based community.
Anything you want to see posted should be sent to the email link posted on this page; this account will be checked for submissions twice a day and then posted as soon as possible.
In your email, please specifiy the following:
- whether you want your writing to be posted publicly or privately (note: if you choose to write privately, the group name and password will be emailed to you)
- if your writing is a stand alone piece or part of a bigger project, to be posted in segments
- whether you would like a link posted to your blog or website.
CAUTIONARY NOTE: Please treat others and their stories as you would like to be treated. Constructive and respectful criticism is appreciated, as are comments praising a person's writing.
We hope you feel like joining in. It really is as easy as:
(1) write your words
(2) email them via the email link on this page
(3) comment on posted stories
(4) repeat above.
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2008-10-05 1:14 AM
"Fiction?" by James Museless, pt 2
Well, it was either drinking alone or walking alone, and without knowing why, Jimmy chose the latter. Somehow the rain and the cold, dark night seemed to fit the moment better than the warmth of a bottle. Perhaps it was an extension of his self-punishment over trying to write that still untold and unknown story. Of course, the alleged comfort of a bottle and forgetfulness might have been the same extension, and who can say which is the greater of two seeming evils, if evil they are.
Jimmy's life had always been a lonely walk on a fine line - a tight rope without aid of a balancing bar. But never so high as to prove deadly when he fell - just enough to inflict the pain that always seemed rightly deserved. Why he walked it, he knew not. He wasn't friendless - in fact he was well-liked despite his natural bent to a shy, pessimistic, introversion. And he never thought of his feelings about life being lonely as a reflection on those who loved him or whom he loved. It was just that loneliness struck him not so much as a condition he had that could be cast off with a better thought, a better medicine, etc. No, it was more like the atmosphere within which he lived, and within which, ultimately, he felt everyone lived. Wherever Jimmy was walking, the ultimate destination, as the ultimate origin, of his path seemed the same - alone, dark, unknowing and silent, except for the internal voices whose volume only sufficient alcohol could temper.
Yet here he was walking, literally and figuratively, without his "silencer" as he liked to call it. He rarely thought of suicide, even if he often tacitly wished his next step was his last. Was he more afraid of life or death? It seemed all he could do was walk his tightrope as a choiceless avoidance of the question. If he stopped walking would he die or live?
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