#calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

forgotten.

i wonder what i’d do if i were to be forgotten forever.

would i bloom a garden of chrysanthemums to place on the grave of the memory of me borne by the minds of the ones who discarded me, or would i brew a pot of tea, welcoming it with an open heart?  would i bellow a song so tragic as i reminisce the glory i once had or would i hum the tune of the angels, knowing all things in life come to an end?

would i fear the pain, or would i embrace it?

perhaps there is a reason life is an enigma. i wanted to live a secluded life, away from the crowd. the fragrance of pastel sky, a kitchen with fresh pastries and a similar soul to speak to were the reason for my everyday. but all things come to an end, and it includes the good ones. a compliment, a praise, a like, a follow - since when did these things begin to bother me? i wanted to live a secluded life.

now i wish to end it all, free my wings from the the mystic maiden’s vines. i don’t need them, i need me. for i am the only one who can love myself twice as much. i don’t need them, i need me. yes, me. i shall neither bloom a garden nor brew some tea, i would return back to the place i called home, deep in the woods - and live with the beasts where i belong.

but as i sit in thought, and time does its charms, chrysanthemums have bloomed in my garden and my hand grips a cup of tea. there are no screams, there are no songs, there is nothing but silence that rings through the walls.

i have been forgotten. and i feel nothing.

neither free, nor conflicted.

what would you do if you were to be forgotten forever?

this blog is so dead, i sometimes wonder if people have forgotten that we exist, or if people ever think of us. what a terrifying thought. never want to think that again.

~calypso

taglist below! ask to be added/removed!

@kaavijournals, @hazelandsunshine, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @the-writing-avocado, @shinesundark, @artbyeloquent, @lexiklecksi, @croctears

@thelaughingstag @original-writing

#writeblr #writing #writers #write #writer #writblr #prose #sad prose #short prose #poetic prose #prose writing #spilled prose #angst #sad #dead poets society #creative writing #original writing #ahkdhahiuh idk why i wrote this #calypso.txt

[opesmagnas-reads]

the first post here is merely for some context.

we write @opes-magnas and this is a blog we've created to react to the things we've read!!

#writeblr #writers #calypso.txt

[callustrate-blog]

CALYPSO

Never let it be said that computer geeks are an unperceptive people. Spending hours upon hours a day looking out for changes on a screen will do that to a person. We were hikikomori - modern day hermits and recluses. That identity, with its small, tedious boxes that we locked ourselves in for months, inspired us to take entertainment from any small bit of change, and a respect for those who could find those bits and tear them wide open. And in my circle at least, it was worth being a little aware of what was happening in front of you. The people of my little digital community varied on a spectrum between friendly loner and delinquent psychopath. And whilst the threat of danger was purely something directed at our beloved possessions (usually, at least), those plastic collections of fans and boards and batteries were often all we had, so we kept watch over them like primitive mother-beasts over our children.

What I’m saying is, is that we should have seen it coming.

We called our circle Tortuga. This was because our administrator Lyle had a fascination over pirates, and none of us could really argue that we were the reputable sort. The image of us cruising along the lightning strings of that great Web in the form of junk ships and galleons was also one that grew on us, and by the first time CALYPSO introduced herself we all had a fairly large nautical era, so we recognised the name instantly.

CALYPSO didn’t introduce herself personally. In fact, she never did. Instead, CALYPSO was the name of an invisible author of a gradually growing number of text files that appeared in a USB dead drop owned by Paul, another one of our own. The drop consisted of a 1TB flashdrive cemented deep into a wall of a factory located in an out of the way industrial cul-de-sac called Danmouth Grove. The metal interface jutted out of a concrete wall, fastened in place by a Frankenstein stitching into the structure of the building itself. Paul called the drop Treasure Island, and it was his one way peephole into the outside world. Through a regular trip every two weeks, Paul could download any number of files that people had left on the drive.

This wireless, off the grid access to files was a valuable asset to Paul and all of Tortuga. As a group of casual crackers, it would have been a risk to pass our tools to each other through our online client. Like thieves exchanging picklocks and crowbars outside of a police station, we could very well have taunted them into arresting us and the white hat inquisition would have piled on no quicker. As such, Treasure Island was well guarded against outside threats; Paul’s father worked high up in the building, and Paul paid the security there weekly to keep an eye on the little jut of metal. As an added precaution after a close call with one of our little, lurking sociopaths armed with a blowtorch, Paul had fitted a hidden camera to the wall of the opposing building. There, in shades of grey and black and white, Paul could watch his beloved Treasure Island all day and be there immediately in case of a more determined intruder.

CALYPSO, of course, was one of these intruders, though never did Paul see her coming. Our little city being coastal, we were prone to thick sea frets that lay their cloying fingers all the way down into the metropolitan centre. She arrived on one of those nights.  Paul’s camera lens had fogged his view into absolute obscurity, and the whole thing sent him into a panic for the next few hours. When he checked Treasure Island the next morning, everything he had expected to be there had disappeared, wiped clean and replaced with a single file labelled ‘calypso.txt’, with three crisp lines:

‘odysseus lived on ogyia for seven years before i let go

this time i fancy more for longer

you have one week to say goodbye’

The word of our mystery villain spread across Tortuga in minutes. At first, it was all endlessly amusing. It became a joke for a time to whip Paul into a flurry of rage whenever CALYPSO was mentioned. He had never been a particularly sporting loser – always the type to need several clones of his controllers in case of damage. But this slight, along with the ridiculously confident and physical threat, had him riled beyond anything we had ever seen before. He would rant and rage for hours, winding himself into a tremendous frenzy that filled our screens and overwhelmed any attempt at changing the subject for the rest of the day. Almost a week later the joke still hadn’t lost it’s lustre, and Paul seemed to wait on edge all times of the day for the topic to come up again so he could try out some new, hilarious argument or justification for his ‘loss’ that he had clawed out of that dark pit of low self esteem.

Like I said, we were a perceptive bunch. It was part of our job, our lives, our being to be apt observers. It was a requirement for our safety to have foresight. So when Paul didn’t log in, we should have noticed. Someone should have spotted that bit, torn it open, and ripped out the answers to that questionable change. But no-one saw. No-one said a word. No-one saw when more of us disappeared either. By the fourth day of the new week, Paul’s disappearance had been joined by five others, and we had done nothing except wonder dream-like what our friends were doing with their time that kept them away from their computers.

On the fifth day, Lyle disappeared. A man who had spent more time on Tortuga than he had under his parent’s roof, whose name was so prominent in the chatroom that he might as well have been the logo. A shining beacon of persistent, unique charisma that we had harboured at for years that day winked out, and suddenly we were aware how many more of us had gone dark.

We talked for a while about what to do. We hated the idea that we had let so much happen without notice, and it drove us to act unlike we ever had before. Every possible point of contact the lost seven had lit up like flares for hours, trying every avenue we could think of to find our friends – or so we wished to believe, anyway. But as we came back to Tortuga with our hands empty, the plan that became clearer was one that none of us liked to think about.

Seven days after Paul’s disappearance, we drew lots. We let Neil - Lyle’s boyfriend, who by far was the most driven of us all - place some of our names into a random number generator. The few of us who were too frightened or lived too far away were given the mercy of abstaining from the draw, but they assured us that whilst we went on our mission, they would do everything they could to make contact with those who’d gone missing. Still, I felt a pang of envy for the ones that the group had considered too weak to go. When my name was drawn from that list, my heart felt like it had sank a thousand leagues down. I swallowed my fear, and packed a bag with things I thought I might need to survive an outing into the wider world. Three hours later, at 8PM, the four of us who were chosen left our homes and ventured to Paul’s house.

Our meeting was surreal. I had met none of my cohorts before; I knew one of them only as ‘Fizz’, and the others I had never even seen a picture of. They all looked as I might have expected, however; Fizz was a short, gangly man with frizzy ginger hair and freckled hidden by a dust mask and a grey hoodie. The other two, Gary and Randall, were two hulking figures in the dark. Gary was almost grey faced with the exhaustion of his travel, the sweat of his brow hidden under a black trilby hat. Randall was clearly fitter, long scraggly hair, tight, hole-ridden clothes and creeping beard barely sodden. Looking on this now, I feel like I might have had a view of them that was a little too judgemental – I’m sure, looking back at me, that any one of them might have thought me the essence of what we were. Avoiding the grim reality of our appearances, we turned to the locked door of Paul’s apartment.

The common lock was something that fortunately came under the array of skills we had that were applicable to the outside world. Randall leant down, and after a few moments of clicking metal and whispered swears, the door popped open. Randall beamed, and in return we offered him a small, congratulatory smile. None of us knew how to talk to one another; as we walked in single formation into the narrow, dingy corridors of Paul’s private lair, we didn’t say a word, wishing silently to be in front of the comfort of our glowing screens again.

The search for Paul was short – his apartment was only small, and between the four of us the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen/dining room were quickly confirmed to be empty. It seemed then that the conclusion we had expected and feared was the right one – Paul really had been taken by CALYPSO. As we all convened back into the main hallway, we loitered awkwardly, the guilty shadow of the seven lost members of Tortuga making it only harder to speak.

Finally, Fizz broke the quiet open. His voice was quiet and high pitched. He stumbled over his words in a way that made us all wince with sympathy.

“Di- uh. Did any of you f-find his. The camera feed?”

Fizz’s question wasn’t answered with words, but again with more silence. As we looked between each other, it became clear that none of us had seen the infamous set up that Paul used solely for his surveillance. The search began again, and with the four of us looking, the room we had all missed was found in moments. Beside the fridge in the kitchen was a small, square doorway – a crawlspace, through which a greyish glow emitted when the door was pried away.

A bridge to Treasure Island.

It became immediately clear what had to be done. Gary and Randall were too large to fit into the hole at all, and Fizz looked at me desperately, silently pleading for me to go in myself. What had been wrong with Fizz that night was beyond me. Whether he was claustrophobic as well as agoraphobic, or just scared of what he might see inside, I never found out. I crawled smoothly into that space head first, straightened up into a dark room illuminated only by the still live feed. I never thought to wonder who had kept the screens running until later, but by then the obvious answer was too late.

What I saw on that feed, among the mist and the crumbling static, was too much for me to bear. I left Tortuga forever the very next day, and broke an eight month spell of hermitry to visit Paul’s parents. I stood on the steps of a house in a nice neighbourhood for half an hour, knocking and then pounding for a response. I saw the shifting of curtains and whispers beyond the door, but no-one ever came. No-one ever talked to me about this again.

Sometimes, I remember CALYPSO’s threat. I remember that she had said she wanted more, and for longer. On sleepless nights I wonder whether the prison she has Paul locked in is so different from mine – forced into a primal isolation beyond even our wildest dreams. An idyllic place of peace, and quiet, and a lack of socialisation. Above all, I wonder whether Tortuga still exists without it’s beacons of communication; or, in the absence of us trapped by her presence, they drift like solitary ships in the black of the Ionian Sea.

#writing #scifi #horror #misc settings

[apimanias-blog]

its time to go to work but nobodys awake but me?!!!?? and i cant control the body very well unless im in water?!!??!!

#calypso.txt

[intellectys]

Please reblog if you want me to check out your blog!

Hey! I’d love to make my dash a little more active, so if you:

are a studyblr

especially a high school one

post original content

post about language/linguistics

please reblog this and I’d love to check out your blog!

#calypso.txt #please!!

[opes-magnas]

Rules: tag 9 people you’d like to know better/catch up with.

Thank you for the tag @book-a-bilia! <3

Last song: Time of Our Life by Day6

Last Movie: Hidden Figures (about coloured women computers at NASA in the ‘60s, loads of empowerment and humour, 10000000/10 recommend)

Currently Reading: ‘Sapiens’ by  Yuval Noah Harari and ‘We Were Liars’ by E. Lockhart

Currently Watching: I’m watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and a bunch of random iCarly episodes cause I wanted to re-visit 5th grade me’s type of humour

Currently Craving: tbh, nothing. water? i’d like me some water.

Tagging (like always, no pressure): @shinesundark (i’m sorry for the 1000th tag z), @teasenpaiwrites , @raenawrites, @some-letters-some-words, @lothricroselle14, @adelinemwriting, @starlightandnightbreeze

#tag games #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

『 hiatus 』

This news is something that was probably expected, and i’m sorry it has ended this way! I’m am sad to inform to you that this blog will now pretty much be barren and devoid of any new content. Feel free to unfollow!

Lady L has slowly become a lot more busy with her life, and doesn’t really find content to put on this blog anymore. I on the other hand, don’t feel like i’m a part of this place, and don’t feel as homely as i used to. There’s probably no one who cares about this, but we’d just like to put an end to things.

Will we return? Perhaps. Just not in a while. 

I will be continuing to write on a different blog, @matcha-chai . If you’d still like to keep in touch, please contact me there!

tagging supportive people: @kaavijournals, @hazelandsunshine, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @the-writing-avocado, @shinesundark, @artbyeloquent, @lexiklecksi, @croctears @prasannawrites, @aboutmybones, @deadwhisper, @kazenokaori, @dandelion-tea, @kabiraaa, @it-is-what-it-it-iss @writingforevren

thank you so much, all of you, for always being so supportive! i hope good luck for all of you <3333

#calypso.txt #will rb this a bunch of time i guess #thank you everyone <3

[opes-magnas]

parasite.

i watch as you linger around my halls. you don’t want anything from me - not my disgusting glory, not my unfaithful committments nor your memories with me. but you stay, forevever lingering, like the ghost of a resentful maiden. and i see you in the shadows, eyes gleaming a greedy green. you remember everything my fingertips touch, every place my soul decides to visit. you flash a smile at someone i deem dear, and drop a comment about their beauty. i notice you, yet i stay ignorant. i wonder if you truly are resentful as i watch you trod wherever i do, if you were angry about the lies that slipped through my mouth that night. and i understand you, yet i stay ignorant. i see you in my secret dwelling, one shared to you in case i go missing, but you break the plate with my name inscribed and take over my dominion. i see you again, yet i stay ignorant. i stay blind to what you do, because it is easier. i watch you as you live my life and realise that you are but a mere parasite. you eat away what i built in pain and snatch away my comfort. why? because you seek happiness. my happiness. 

but you forget, i’m just as unhappy as you.

general taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @kaavijournals, @hazelandsunshine, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @shinesundark, @the-writing-avocado, @artbyeloquent

@original-writing @thelaughingstag, 

#literally the dumbest thing i've ever written but here :D #writeblr #writing #writers #prose #creative writing #original writing #write #writers of tumblr #literature #english #excerpts from my writing #flash fiction #flash fic #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

i'm angry and this is my wonderful stress written poem

dearest miss someone,

i should've known better,

for prejudice is always foolish.

but you should've known better,

to not set ablaze my garden of chysanthemums.

dearest miss in pain,

'i don't want to cry',

'i don't want to hurt',

i too used to say as i

cried, and loathed myself.

dearest miss delicate,

the two of us stand on a string of glass,

moments away from breaking,

moments away from digging into our skins,

dripping beads of crimson on our memories.

dearest miss weak of heart,

please know that what sets us apart,

is your fear to love someone,

and my fearlessness,

to let them go.

:) have a nice day, whoever you are :)

~ calypso

general writing taglist (ask to be +/-!):  @kaavijournals, @hazelandsunshine

#writeblr #poetry #poems #daily poems #sad poems #i'm angry i'm angry i'm angry #wrath eats me alive and i'm left with no love to give anymore #would LOVE to shout rn #ugh what do you do when you feel this way again #suck it up? nah there's got to be something better #write? but i can't think straight #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

I wrote a prose inspired by Louis XVI

Pit!

I lie in a meadow. The soft breeze kisses my right cheek as it pours into the forest nearby. My skin tingles with the warmth of the sun. 

Pat!

My limbs feel as though they've been rooted into the earth, making me bow down in humility, something I've never felt before. Yet, I find comfort withthe godess. My heart beats slow for once. She makes me calm.

Pit!

The world around me is still. No fury amongst eyes I come across, no gluttony amongst minds. Peace has restored in my kingdom. I close my eyes and breathe in the long lost silence, for I know of its wonders on my heart.

Pat!

Pit!

Pat!

Pit!

Pat!

I hear screams.

Screams of a thousand unheard souls, trapped in the innocent earth. They ask for freedom. They stab my heart before ripping it into two. Their anger seethes past the hold of the godess. The earth now engulfs my limbs, leaving me immobile as I smell the blood in the breeze. I now know that doom has set as fate had willed.

I lie pathetic, as my kingdom burns to the ground.

Pit!

I open my eyes.

And I see another pair looking down on me.

Cold.

Dead.

I lie, frozen in my castle's halls to see the horror before me. 

Pit! Pat! Blood drips on me, 

From the eyes of the people I ignored.

I lie, as I stare into their lifeless eyes.

I lie, knowing I can't help them.

I lie, knowing I'll join them tomorrow.

I lie, knowing all too well,

Peace is a far off fantasy, and

I deserve this suffering.

I lie, forevermore,

Chained by the screams

Of my people.

~ Calypso

general writing taglist (ask to be added!):  @kaavijournals, @the-writing-avocado, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @47crayons, @artbyeloquent, @raenawrites, @shinesundark, @hazelandsunshine

a/n: i wrote this after listening to ed sheeran’s ‘i see fire’ (which i know is for a completely different fandom) and wondering ‘what if you watched your kingdom burn to the ground?’ this is probably highly inaccurate, so don’t come at me lol.

@original-writing

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #original writing #write #writer #fiction #history #writings #prose #short prose #prose writing #poetic prose #poetry #fantasy #fic #flash fiction #kingdom #long reads #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

“why do you always write with a pencil like a child?” they give me an opportunity correct my mistakes and erase my imperfections

“but there’s beauty in imperfections” no you don’t understand pencils give me comfort because they give you a chance, and chances to redo things in life are very tempting

AND I WILL TAKE THAT CHANCE IDC ABOUT LEARNING FROM PERMANANCE I WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD AND BE GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE AND A PENCIL WILL DO IT

#these are thoughts from the deepest pits of my minf #mind* #revelations of an idiotic genius #shitpost #gen z #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

Last Line Tag!

welp this took me so darn long-

thank you so much for the tag @47crayons, @kahaaniyaa, and @the-writing-avocado!!

She took in a deep breath, fell to the ground on her knees and prayed for the first in her life, looked up to the endless blue sky riddled with white and whispered, “Help me survive through this and I will emerge a phoenix, help me”, she croaked, her throat parched since the last glass of water she had had.

And she heard a loud yell, a sound that she had heard so many times in her life, she racked her brain to remember what it was but what resounded was an unnerving voice calling her out till she pressed her palms to her ears and howled.

This is from a secret wip Lady L has not announced yet mwuhahahahaha (it’s called ‘Ivy House’ if you’re curious)

tagging (feel free to ignore~): @writing-is-a-martial-art, @shinesundark, @croctears, @ieatb00ks, @eternal-bluefire, @floralbeast and @jin-doodles!

#tag games #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

hello! we're planning on creating a general writing taglist to notify people of when we write our poems and release our wips.

as much as we're extremely grateful for all those who've been supporting us and reading our work, (all of you mean a lot to us, we're pretty creepy and remember your urls!!) we feel as though some of our work is slightly unnoticed sometimes due to its unfortunate rarity. (we apologize for the erratic pattern of releasing content!) and voila, the idea of creating a general taglist emerged!

kindly interact with this post (by commenting) or send in an ask/dm to be part of it!

spreading love,

calypso and lady lazarus.

#writeblr #writing #poetry #calypso.txt #ladylazarus.txt

[opes-magnas]

The Dancer

based on a prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial - #FFF95 - Dance The Night Away

thanks to @writing-is-a-martial-art and @47crayons for giving me, an extremely indecisive person, the green signal to post this <3

~ calypso

She danced with her heart,

Her movement was elegant. She used to be one with the rhythm; her feet tapped every beat right, her body grooved to every tune.  Her eyes twinkled with a mysterious gleam. Her dance was always orange - it burned with a passion stronger than the flames of a bonfire, but so did it seem to melt into the evening sky setting with a soft tint of marmalade. The audience knew that their applause wasn't enough to appreciate the waltz they saw unfold before their hands. That night, the moon shined for her; for her dance.

Dancing was her life,

Not a day went without it. She didn't know what she'd do without it. Dance made her feel like a child - joyful and complete. It made her soul find innocence in the cruel world. It provided her a sanctuary; one where she could be herself, one where she didn't have to pretend, one where she could weep without hatred. Her dance never betrayed her.

She didn't deserve it,

She didn't deserve the pain, she didn't deserve the loss. The walls of her sanctuary were broken down, smashed into pieces uncountable. Her orange passion withered to a stormy grey. The audience pitied her. They said she didn't deserve the scar forever engraved on her skin, she didn't deserve to see a part of her be taken away so brutally. And as temporary as they were, none stayed by her side. She wondered if she ever deserved her happiness in the first place.

Her feet no longer move, her eyes no longer shimmer in the light. She despises the music she once couldn't stop indulging in, she despises the moon that once shined for her. Her body is now limp to the beat. She is sick of the pity, she seethes in anger everyday. But she still seems to find solace in her rage, for she knows her dance didn't betray her.

She now dances in her heart.

general taglist (ask to be +/- !): @blue-hairbrush, @kaavijournals

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #angst #dance #flash fiction #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

Masterpost

Hello! Bonjour! Ola! Ciao! Ni-hao! Konnichiwa! Annyeonghaseyo! Namaste!

We're two teenagers from India who love to stress write and procrastinate - Lady Lazarus (semi-active) and Calypso (on here like it's her day job)

If you find any work that you think requires a warning, please do not hesitate to tell us about it. There are times we forget, or just are unaware, and we’re willing to correct our mistakes.

General Writing:

Prose

total works: 10+ (search tag: ‘prose’ for recent works)

Poetry

total works: 30+ (search tag: ‘poem’ for recent works)

Fated By The Stars

A series of poems and short stories on the mysterious thing called ‘Fate’

Works In Progress:

『 as lonely as time can get 』

What would the moon do without the sun? She’d be forever unnoticed if it weren’t for him. But the moon holds a secret as she shines bright in the night sky - a lesson of love and pain; a lesson of acceptance, that gives her freedom from the sun. And the moon, being as mysterious as she is, imparts this epiphany in peculiar ways. This time, she makes a young girl named Luna relive the same night, hoping she’d get it right for the better.

『 dear youth, 』

inspired by: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero (pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next one)

hogwarts au + original characters, light reads

check tag ‘wip; dy’ for parts!

#writers #poetsandwriters #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #calypso.txt

[opes-magnas]

thank you so much for 150!!

we're utterly thankful for your love <333 (even though this blog is not that consistent)

as a way to celebrate, if any of you see this, give us a word and we'll write a poem about it! (and possibly a small love letter if we're mutuals heh)

we'll keep doing our best!

~calypso

#sjshsjshjsjs thank you for listening to our nonsense on here <33 #will probably rb this sometimes #calypso.txt