Post by meno on Jan 29, 2009 15:28:51 GMT -5
'Mise well make a board to attempt to shake out writer's block.
Also to show that I'm alive, in a writing sense, or at least I hope I am. ;A;
These aren't any of listed prompts [ I think ] moreso picking words at random and writing something short that involves that word, I find that really, really fun. So, if you see me on the c-box and bored as Hell feel free to shout out a pretty sounding word, I'm always looking for new ones.
Also to show that I'm alive, in a writing sense, or at least I hope I am. ;A;
These aren't any of listed prompts [ I think ] moreso picking words at random and writing something short that involves that word, I find that really, really fun. So, if you see me on the c-box and bored as Hell feel free to shout out a pretty sounding word, I'm always looking for new ones.
To Taro he was just some useless... Lilliputian. Yes, that was it. Bothered him while he worked and while he didn't work, made him feel feelings he didn't need to feel and distracted him from the things he dearly needed to get done.
Taro, in all honestly, was a man married to his job and his relationship skills with people were severely below par. Perhaps this should have been expected from a scientist who spent hours and days locked within an office and deluged under mountains of formulas, theories and failed answers.
Life itself was, essentially, a Lilliputian.
At least to Taro it was.
word: Lilliputian = something trivial, small, insignificant.
He didn't know when he had entered his hustler's house, he just had, like it was some natural instinct, some initial reaction to fear. As if that house and the man within it would disperse the fear and replace it with a comforting sense of security.
Rowan didn't mean to provoke the cops again, he really didn't. But in the end, as always, he was running from them. Running from the law, the order, the very regulations and basic rules themselves. Always running. His feet had smacked across the street concrete in a harsh and rough manner, it stung. He could hear the shouts and the screams, but they were all ignored. Considered useless.
He knew Hylan, his hustler and friend had a key hidden under the door mat, thus it was just some stroke of fate that he had ran by it.
Or perhaps it was the whole 'instinct' thing again, he didn't know, he didn't care. Rowan was simply to busy on trying to be free, more so trying to win. Win the game of the race. Win, win, win... all his thoughts were surrounded by that expanse of lustful victory.
As he trudged into the house, slamming the door rancorously, he caught his breath in violent heaves. It was dark. All around, no light.
Everything was quiet, except for his ragged breaths. Rowan was suddenly worried, where was Hylan? Was he okay?
Urged by these impulsive thoughts, Rowan darted forward on his bruised and sore feet. And he realized the different sound from feet against road to feet against smooth floorboard tiles, and then there was pang of comfort.
Hylan would be okay, and so would he. A small smile graced Rowan's face, knowing this.
word: floorboard
Everytime he shot up, everytime he inhaled, everytime he even breathed in these... wonderful substances, he was instantly purged into a kaleidoscope of emotions and colours. Feelings and sights that no ordinary human could procure naturally, it was something out of this world and ethereal. However, this part of the trip was the exact part that Rowan hated, passionately.
Everything was too vivid, too real, too tangible. He didn't want to feel, he didn't want to know. In a sense, Rowan wanted to exist but then not exist at all. That was his true high.
After the torment of flavorful life the place of numbness would wash over his being, like cleaning a palette. A sense of lethargy took over his body and he could nearly lick the freezing hot passageway to Hell.
word: kaleidoscope
If there was one word that could sum up Ramsey Nymia in the most gracious of ways then that word could be debonair. But of course, he was born into such a title. Son of a wealthy family and heir of a superfluous popular business man of a father, it was certainly only natural that Ramsey would come off as such.
Being raised when so much is expected of you is harsh. He would be sure to tell you that.
However, he would also tell you how it was all worth it in the end. The fact that you were pleasing your parents and that the people who rarely praised at all began to lavish you with word confidence, it was simply an amazing feeling. It was all for them, in the end.
It was always for them, never himself.
But, perhaps selflessness is a part of debonair itself.
word: debonair = gracious and charming, especially in social situations.