someghostyouare

[someghostyouare]

Gabi's Dead Body

My blood ran cold in the blistering heat of this country. Spots danced around my line of sight as if trying to convince me I was dreaming. My muscles numbed. Breathing took over all action from my body. I couldn’t look away. It was like my own curiosity wouldn’t let me miss this grotesque oppurtunity.

It only took a slow breeze to swing her body. Finally, I believed.

A student was hanging from the ceiling.

Gabriella Mendez was hanging from the ceiling.

The short young artist now stood higher than me, a fraying rope wrung around her craning neck. As I stepped closer I could how it choked her.

Her choppy hair fell flat to gravity, no longer held together by a ribbon. Gabi’s shimmery brown highlights dulled in her black hair. Almost cruelly, her eyes were wide open. Deep dark pupils stood out against the pale breathlessness of her face. Her head was forced downwards but Gabi’s eyesstill looked upwards.

Her now-chapped lips formed a shape that finished the word ‘amen’. Any Catholic family would never accept the way she died. I knew Gabriella would’ve uttered a final prayer that they would. She was naive that way.

I felt bad for her. I knew one of God’s hardest challenge was to leave our most desperate prayers unanswered. I stared up at her, trembling still.

Was it selfish for me to envy? To think that it could’ve been me instead?

#writing #teen writer #creative writing #writing community #open to criticism #aspiring writer #writing prompts #writer #writers #writers and poets #murder #suicide #mystery

[someghostyouare]

I look to you and see nothing (1/?)

Henry used to be a great man. People adored him. Everyone knew him. Back then, I wasn’t alone in my respect for him. I knew I was one in a million. There used to be, a crowd of people who screamed his name, and I was there. A section full of people who loved him, an opposing grade level who hated him, and I sat in the middle of it all, thinking all of this was for one man. A man who had everything.

It was my habit to deny him. Deny. Deny. Deny. I guarded my denial fervently, and just as stupidly. He could have everything but he would get nothing from me. A teenage me would never cheer for Henry. Especially not for winning a chess tournament. That was his fifth checkmate straight. Who even cheers for chess? People like Jude would. Supporters to the Gustillo clan would. I wouldn’t. He didn’t even know me, but I knew he expected everyone to cry, and shout, and gloat. Henry doesn’t get that satisfaction from Kathleen. Not in public. Not ever. To him, I was a part of everyone, one of the three other Kathleens in school. A faceless no one in an army of no ones. We all are. Nobody was significant to him. Not Jude. Not Mackie. Especially not Inday.

Yet people loved him still. Jude never left his side. Mackie would never forget being his soldier. Inday would hate him for the rest of her life, but there’s no denying that she loved him in the first part of it. Henry played his part in life charmingly. And you can’t dislike a charming person. It was hard to even hate him. He was phenomenal in convincing people the opposite of what was his very nature. That enough stole away any shred of respect I should’ve given to someone else.

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Might make a new wip?? I’m pathetic lol

#writing #creative writing #teen writer #writing community #open to criticism #writing prompts #aspiring writer #writer #writers #writers and poets

[someghostyouare]

Dear Henry

You once told me, that you never expected to have a casual conversation with me. Unless it was for something like groupworks, and we both know we’ve had plenty of conversations when it came to projects and class hijinks. I pretended to be shocked when you mentioned that, maybe I was really shocked. Looking back know, I'm finding that phrase funny. Because I’ve always dreamed of having deep though-provoking conversations with you. I’m the type of person who makes scripts of what to say before they talk to someone. Which is probably why I’ll never win against you in a debate, but I was flattered when you said you’ve wanted to try arguing with me.

You’re somehow one of the most interesting characters I’ve met, and that goes beyond physical appearance. I can’t really explain it. You have this charismatic pull, that’s exceptionally strong. Despite all your flaws, all your mistakes and all the reasons people have to be annoyed at you, irritated, frustrated, you still come out on top. It’s like you’ve held your life story so closely and own it so intimately that anyone you meet gets suck into your book. And well, it’s been an exciting ride for me, to be part of this chapter in your journey. It’s an admirable trait and the kind of confidence only lawyers train for.

I’m not one for reading the future. I don’t even know what I want to do with my own future. Another thing you’ve made me question, as journalists really do have one of the world’s most dangerous jobs, especially here. But I can really feel that you have a bright future ahead of you. This main character attitude of yours can bring you so far. It’s been a great 2023, and I’ve had fun so far being one of your side characters this year, as much as you've become mine. I hope you don’t find this letter strange, or weird, or anything else. I've been teased a little too much over what I think of you. I'm not really sure what else to think of you other than what I've written here. Believe me, I’ll be overthinking this entire letter over the moment I’ve given it to you. I’ve just been really sentimental lately, maybe that's why this letter is so over-the-top and desperately trying to sound deep and thought-provoking, like the conversations I've always wanted us to have. This isn’t exactly much of a ‘Merry Christmas and Happy New Year’ card, but I’ll be wishing you a happy holidays in here for you anyways.

#writing #teen writer #creative writing #writing prompts #open to criticism #writer #writers #aspiring writer #writing community #writers and poets #love letters #unrequited love #first love #christmas #festive #writeblr #writer stuff #on writing

[someghostyouare]

A Crush’s Diagnosis

They say the first symptoms of a crush is thinking.

Thinking of him all the time. On the way to school, maybe on the way back. Usually he’ll pop up in my mind, and it’s always at the worst times. We’re both trying to be the smart people in class and all his distractions love to bring me down. Sometimes I drift off, it’s probably on purpose, I convince myself. The worst cases are thinking of him while daydreaming in the shower. Only the cold drops of water can shake me up from my delusions.

Now here I am, wondering how long the butterflies last. Is it withdrawal when I look for him in the wreckages of Manila’s sidewalks. Am I falling out of it if his voice stops being my voice of reason? Or am I falling out of sanity? There’s no difference at this point.

If it’s a rational answer I’m trying to find, it’s been difficult to dig for it. I’m in no mood to search for logical explanations either. Staying grounded in reality is hard when someone unknowingly invites you to love them; to know them like no other. Even if its from my own selfish perspective. _____________________________________________________________ Found this in my school journal. Don't like much of it but here it is.

#writing community #teen writer #creative writing #writing #writer #writers #writers and poets #aspiring writer #open to criticism #writing prompts #crush #love story #love #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing exercises

[someghostyouare]

Writer's block sucks when exams are near and you just wanna ✨ p r o c r a s t i n a t e ✨

#writing #creative writing #teen writer #writing community #writer's block #aspiring writer #writer's problems

[someghostyouare]

Dialogues

“How much longer are you going to watch them?”

I looked up to him, eyes smiling along. Clueless as ever, isn’t he?

“Sit. Let’s watch together,” I beckoned, patting the space beside me

Somehow, charm won over rationality. The edges of our heavens have never been the safest chair, but he didn’t disagree

We both had the best seat in the house, looking down the tiny dots below went about with their lives.

Quick. Short. Irrelevant. Thriving or surviving? I could never tell from up here.

I spotted a girl whose hands masterfully played in a theater, starring her dolls’ fights.

Then pointed out, her brother’s eyes glossed over a metal box’s glowing lights.

“What are we even watching?” He tilted his head and squinted.

Of course, for someone as grand as he was, nothing impressed him, not easily.

I laughed, a level up from my earlier smile. It bore the horrible unfiltered-ness of each snort and catching of breaths.

He scowled. He hated it. It was me, after all. Me laughing at his expense.

“I had hoped you found another of those other lives. Those heroes, leaders, philosophers-

you’ve made me watch for nothing,” The sound of his gruntled disappointment was never-changing.

He stood, away from the view and ready to take his leave.

“Do I need to point out everything for you, my dear?” I mused.

He looked back. He didn’t find my musing as funny as I did

“You’ve been staring at the limits of our paradise for days,” his ego stuck out from his huffing chest.

“It’s time to stop and rest,”

“Let’s take a closer look,” I grinned.

With a swift motion, and an iron grip, I dragged the god down, still holding the hand of my beloved.

We dove to the level of the humans we created, but only I loved.

The skies filled up with the thunder of his screaming and the lightning of laughter that came from my lungs.

Together, we fell out of heaven, out of our extraordinary lives to find the same extraordinariness in their ordinary ones.

...

Poetry isn't exactly my strong suit.

#writing #teen writer #creative writing #writing community #writing prompts #open to criticism #writers and poets #poetry #original poem #writblr #writerscommunity #writers

[someghostyouare]

Dear Boy, Never Cure Me

They say the first symptoms of a crush is thinking. Thinking all the time. I won’t admit it, but it would be an injustice not to say it so. It’s him. Him. I think about him like the world’s next virus.

He’ll pop up in my mind in the best times. On the way to school, sometimes on the way back. It wouldn’t be complete if I couldn’t see him in the worst times. I’ve had the worst cases of daydreaming in the shower. My sister hates that it takes me so long to recover from him in the morning. Even when we’re both trying to be the smart people in class, he’s a constant in the equation to my brain.

The worst part is wondering how long the butterflies last. Is it withdrawal when I look for him in the cracks of sidewalks? Am I falling out of love if his voice stops being my voice of reason? Or am I finally falling out of my insanity? Is it madness when I say he’s source of my wild competitiveness? Is it such a bad thing to be this down bad? If there’s a cure for all of this I’m not looking for it. Being cured is hard when it’s someone like him giving me this fever. The kind of fever I catch from getting a glimpse of his eyes. As dark as mine, and almost emptier.

But when he smiles… My god, when he laughs!

It brings his entire being to life. The short breaths he takes in between, right before losing to his own shrewd sense of humor. He’s shameless when he’s like that. He’ll point out my hunched back and the breathless soundless whistle that comes out of my mouth when I laugh too much. Too proud to even notice his own flaws when he’s as happy as I am.

The shocked face he makes before bursting into fits of giggles. His hands go flying to his own mouth, depriving me the bottom half of his face. I cannot believe how much I want that hand to be mine. Feeling the softness of his lips, stopping him from saying the next stupid thing that we cry laughing about. That’s it, isn’t it? He has this… him-ness that loves infecting me over and over again.

Every word comes out of him dripping with sarcasm. Yet it’s all so genuine at the same time. The brief share of stolen looks and knowing eye contact, it kills me! We mock whisper secrets across conversations from opposite sides of the room. It’s a love language, and it’s a second language I’ve never been so fluent in.

I’ve never enjoyed being sick in my life, but he makes it worth it.

He’ll swing by my classroom and my temperature reaches new records. He walks with me and my legs start cramping. My eyes are suddenly useless whenever we bump each other. Immediately my body loses its balance and my mouth’s no longer as clever as I thought it was. He says to jump, and I jump higher than I ever have. Dancing right off a monument I’ve dedicated to him.

I’ll probably never move on. Never, I tell you. I don’t wish to recover from whatever happens to us when we’re together. I’d drag him with me to wherever I need him to be. Wherever feels right.

As long as its with him, I would run through long white halls. Barefoot as the cold tiles bite on my toes. Rows and rows of doors open while I scream through a tunnel work of halls. The only important sound I need is him laughing right behind me. No amount of needles could unnerve me the way his silence would hit me.

I fly past everyone else catching up to us. Their white lab coats clinging to shapes that were skinny and large. My legs carry me off away from puzzled looks stuck on faces wearing white gowns.

It’s him. Him, again.

I sprint through carts full of funny liquids in small bottles. Right behind it, and behind the nurse lying on the floor, was him. My diagnosis. My boy. It’s him. It’s always him.

#writing #teen writer #creative writing #amatuer writer #aspiring writer #aspiring author #writing community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing exercises #short story #love story #open to criticism #writers and poets

[someghostyouare]

Oh, This Rich Life

I am… I was a good girl. I did everything you asked. Mother? Father? Did you not say to marry rich? Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I remember how you regaled me with tales of wives and their penniless men. “A poor man rarely has a happy woman,” don’t you remember? Well, I’m afraid you never told me, a woman’s state with a rich man. But I can tell you. I’ll whisper it, even. Closer. There is NO DIFFERENCE. Rich or poor, I end up with a partner I’m never happy with. My old lover could barely pay to keep me alive, but my wealthy husband just pays to keep me around.

I’m tired of this life. I’m so TIRED of it. Not one child has come out of me yet, and somehow I still ended up with one. Darling, don’t forget your appointment with that client. Love, did you check your calendar today? Husband, those papers are still on your desk. Money, dresses, jewelry, none of those can console me like they used to. Even so, all that I could’ve tolerated. After all, that’s how well you taught me. But, then it started. All night, with the drinking, the smoking, the cheating. All day, scandal after scandal, making headline after headline. Poor woman, they whisper, her man is never home and never with her. He’s had at least five women by now, all of them more gorgeous than the last. Fairer, skinnier, younger.

That. I don’t tolerate that. I forgave the first time. Ignored the next two.. You defended the fourth one. And just when I thought she was the last, the fifth gave birth. You’ve drained almost everything out of me. My life, my happiness. Darling, surely you could’ve left my dignity alone. But you didn’t. With that gone, you took my humanity with it. People say, I must’ve been out of my head. ONE hit. TWO. Then, THREE! Oh, oh this rich life. Heaven, forgive me - he was gone… He’s gone… It’s done…I’M DONE!

#writing #creative writing #declamation #speech #dramatic #writer #teen writer #writing community

[someghostyouare]

I Fell (1/?)

The bright yellow signs all screamed at me to get out.

Danger, no trespassing, and private property signs, it didn’t matter, I ignored them all. They were plastered all over the chain-linked fence, which meant to further deter hooligans from sneaking in.

I wasn’t a hooligan. I wasn’t a coward either, nor a wimp. I had to do it. I needed to prove them wrong. I wasn’t any of those things. I couldn’t be weak and be a girl at the same time. I couldn’t be.

I crawled through a hole in the fence. Mud clung unto me. It stuck from the arms that pushed me through the fence and the legs I dragged with me to the other side. The cut wires tore bigger holes in my uniform. I didn’t care. It was an old uniform anyways. Even when it stabbed and poked against my skin, I kept on going.

Behind me, I heard their taunts. I knew they were pointing at me, whispering among themselves. Their grins, unnaturally wide at the sight of my struggling. I didn’t dare look back. I didn’t want to catch sight of them, again. The dark just made it all worse. Only the moonlight illuminated the path of my stunt. As if a spotlight was put on to me by the gods above.

My heart was beating against my chest. The gears in my head ran at a sickeningly quick pace. My worries were evident on my face, to the creases on my forehead and the frown present on my lips. It was this kind of thinking that knotted my intestines’. My uneasiness churned in my stomach. I was almost there. My arms and torso were through. However, my feet were left behind, getting colder. Not just from the wind.

”Stopping already?” One sneered. His grating voice echoed through my ears. Silence made me believe his voice was louder than it was. His words repeated in my brain. It brought my entire body to a pause. His words had all the calmness that hid mockery so well, it was barely detectable. “You aren’t even through yet,”

“I told you she couldn’t do it!” Another joined in, the sound of his teeth chattering covered up his insecurities well. “She won’t do it!”

”She’ll hurry up if she knows what’s good for her,”

My lip quivered. Tears formed in my eyes. I blinked twice. Thrice, to make sure they wouldn’t fall.

“I will,” I insisted, mostly to myself. What I said was barely audible. The sound of my shallow breathing surmounted my will to speak. I intended to make up for it by going on with the deed, but I froze. Failing in both words and actions.

The wind whistled past the trees. It blew my hair out of my face, revealing the deep dense forest I found myself heading towards to. Animalistic eyes glowed in the dark, yellow and with black slitted pupils. The trees leaves formed dark silhouettes of monsters that kept children at bay. Children like me.

That was where I was meant to go. That was where I needed to go. I had to get there of my own free will. Or else what would be the point of all this fighting?

I took too long.

... My friend said I have the writing skills of a wattpad writer when she read this specifically. Color me flattered ha.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #personal project #oc story #rough draft #drafts #i have so many drafts #writer #teen writer #kind of thriller?idk #if you read this hi lol #open to criticism

[someghostyouare]

I Envy Someone

There's a girl I envy in school.

Her pin straight hair, stuck to her round face like a waterfall of ink. I pulled it, moving her head back. She laughed, tears in her eyes. Whether it was from the pain I couldn't tell. She handed me a hair tie afterwards. It's impossible to tie, she tells me. That day I decided I want my hair curled. The day I do, I'll have her hair tie to pull it together.

I didn't mean for my fingers to brush her face. An unintentional check. Her cheeks are so soft they're almost kissable. She told me she used the same face wash I did. It works better on her.

I could've pinched her. Although her face didn't need pinching. Her cheeks are already rosy red, blushing against her pale skin. Before I slept, my mother reminded me to bleach my face.

When she smiled, her lips parted almost gracefully. Like two glossy rose petals, both of them equally tinted pink. Not even my toothy grin could compete with that. I regret wearing lipstick early.

I envy this girl. Believe when I say it with my whole heart. The image of her is seared into my mind. I would know her in my heart. Even when her face is scratched out in my dreams. Eyes gouged out, limbs torn, I'd still know her.

I went out with her a few days ago. The date is a day I'll never forget. I had to throw out my calendar, right after I marked it down. She wore clothes better than mine. It fit her better too.

In her slim figure, her jacket hugged her the way I wanted to choke her neck. The entire time we walked, she tugged her skirt down, when all I wanted was to wear one too. My parents made me go home early. The sun had barely come down. I wish it had. I didn't want to see her waving at me from the mall entrance. I started saving up for baggier jeans.

I'm jealous. I cry to myself every night, repeating those words. I still see her blurred figure in each tear stain of my pillow.

I should be studying, but I can't think of anyone else. I can't think of anything else. Why would I study history when the reason the Trojans went to war with the Greeks is someone I know so intensely? Her name could be Helen and I'd sound out each syllable as if each breath is to be my last. If she hates Math as much as I do, what point is there in practicing in it? Solving for x or y doesn't give me the letter that spells out her perfection.

I envy this girl in school. I envy her so. I hate being with her, but I find my feet drawing myself to her. My eyes follow her every step. I've surpassed the want to be her. I've ran my sanity further than the need to be her.

My envy for her has become my love language.

I lay back. My hands tired, aching, trembling from all the emotions it took for me to admit that. In my hands, one, two, three? No, more than that. Whatever the number, pills sat in the palms of my hands. My eyes were starting to droop after gulping the first few.

Water ran through my throat, and yet I'm more parched than ever.

My chest can't keep up with my lungs.

My breathing is shallow.

I lay my head down on my desk. Everything is spinning. My head is dizzy.

I closed my eyes. Everything was pitch black.

I thought everything would be pitch black.

Even like this, I still saw her.

Her stupid hand, waving goodbye to me. It was laughable. Did she want me to go so soon?

This is the only time I agreed with her. ...

Uh hi lol

#writing #first post #i'm new to this #writing prompts #lol what is this #i'm just really bored #procrastinating really hard #i suck at endings #random bullshit #enjoy ig??