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Crowe

Crowe

Who needs sleep when you can procrastinate writing with worldbuilding? Writers block is the eternal foe I face.

17
Writings
9
Followers
3
Following
Crowe

Crowe

Who needs sleep when you can procrastinate writing with worldbuilding? Writers block is the eternal foe I face.

17
Writings
9
Followers
3
Following
Creation (Pt. II)

Crowe

1 min read

It’s been a while since she’s been here. It was a surprise today when she showed up.


She was dressed simply today. A sweatshirt and shorts. She didn’t need anything more for today. Her wings hung limply, dragging in the sand behind her.


She came and stood next to me while I looked out over the beach, off to the horizon in the distance. A single tear traced down her cheek.


“i had an awful day...

6
2
Creation

Crowe

3 min read

I sat at the pier, aimlessly bouncing my legs through the cool water.


The day was always cloudy here, but the nights were crystal clear, enough stars to finally understand how miniscule one was in the universe.


A tiny fish ran past my toes and I smiled, relishing the small moments.


As she stepped into my sight, she was held momentarily in shadow by the lanterns on the posts.


She looked maj...

2
2
Interdimensional Wormhole Thingys

Crowe

1 min read

Pft.


Pfffft.


P f f f f f f t.


Aurel sat aimlessly blowing a lock of unruly hair out of their face, lazing very improperly across their chair.


“Mx. Avernus, I would assume you’re paying attention?”


“…oh mhm sure yep.” This stupid ash white hair would not stay away. Entertainment at least?


“Would you care to reiterate what I’ve just said?”


With a heavy, dramatic sigh, Aurel sat up and st...

4
2
Home

Crowe

1 min read

Blank.

Blank.

Blank.


And then…


Dark.


Why does it always start dark? Must I always carve out light from the dark?


No matter. The dark is welcoming. The dark is home.


Now there’s a hill. A craggedy one, a house to match on top. A wrought iron fence sits falling apart around, a useless barrier.


On the fence now sits a lone crow. Where it came from, I don’t know, but I know it should be th...

7
6
…Only A Dream?

Crowe

1 min read

There’s days I’m scared of my subconscious.


Nights where I close my eyes and am terrified of what I’ll see.


Times there are monsters lurking at the edges of my vision, waiting to pounce as soon as the black takes over.


When I slip into R.E.M., the visions slip out, unwanted.


Why am I here?

What’s going on?

Why is his throat being ripped out?

How do I feel my legs moving so fast, running f...

2
Sweetie

Crowe

1 min read

What a patronizing, put me below your level, misogynistic word.


Why.


Why can’t I just peacefully order something without that word from the server.


If someone corrects me it doesn’t need to be included.


If it’s intended to be endearing or soften the blow, congrats! You’ve just succeeded in ticking me off.


What an awful word....

3
4
Fidgets

Crowe

1 min read

Why does it bother you why I fidget so? Why I can’t sit still?


Tap.

Tap.

Tap.


The fact that I might drum fingers on my knee while watching tv, or bouncing my foot?


Tap.

Tap.

Tap.


How come when I’m almost completely out of your line of sight, you feel the need to continue informing me of the fingernails currently in my mouth? I obviously know they’re there.


Tap.

Tap.

Tap.


Why can’t ...

2
2
A Way With Words

Crowe

1 min read

Sometimes I hate when people say I have a “way with words”. What about the times I don’t feel that way? When the words don’t just flow across the page, spilling scenes like watercolor on paper? I hate when I have a beautiful idea and it’s going so well and then it’s not. And then I see someone else’s stories and feel inferior, and I’m not good enough. For example as soon as I respond to a prompt, ...

1
4
Routines

Crowe

1 min read

This goes here and that goes there and the little things can’t be everywhere.


One and two, three and four, step by step into the drawer.


Bit by bit, piece by piece, fold and tuck the freshly cleaned sheets.


Clean and dust and sweep and mop, this goes bottom, this goes top.


Day by day, again and again, swiping away all the stains.


Routine by routine, it must be done, this are my mornings...

4
4
Memories Colored Green

Crowe

1 min read

Why was getting lost in a forest ever romanticized? Who said that the fallen and the muggy, buggy air was beautiful and to be treasured? The paths were uneven and the branches were long and broken, and you couldn’t even see the sky. The forest was once seen as magnificent and beautiful, the leaves brushing the sky at insurmountable heights. They had said the colors were “epic”, ones you couldn’t f...

1
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