Hi everyone! I'm an up-and-coming filmmaker who is making my first foray into self-publishing my fiction and inspirational writings, old and new. I hope you enjoy what I put up here. Keeping this short for now.
I have sat here with little more intention than to fill this invisible cup past the usual extent of its contents' brim. This writing here flows as it goes, with no edits made but for those of spelling, immediately following their creation (of was previously written as os as I was explaining my intention at the entrance created by the extinction of the previous sentence as it preemptively began into its own planned fruition. As you may see is already evident, if I begin to write one word--say, "beggar"--but I type an "l" instead, I must instead use an alternative word, such as "loiterer", for instance. Although that word isn't an exact substitute for the former, I will simply have to surrender to the placidity of context to support the success of my own aims. So, as you can see, if I paint myself into a corner, I have no choice but to make up for tied-hands by using my own confidence in my creativity to carry on. Also, as you may have caught on so far, the word "placidity" chosen above was a product of my own assumption of correctness as permitted by the trusted clarity of my own brain. Although that may not be the correct word, I had decided to use it, so damnation will do as damnation ostensibly does. Rewriting "placidity", I began it as "pal, but as I was rewriting a previous set word, I allowed a backspace and continuance. Also, I had typed "ostensibly" as "obstensibly"--without the hyphens, of course (just keeping you on your TOES!!!)--but as it wsa (WAS!) a spelling error, I simply fixed it and move (MOVED) on.
The Fault In The Meadow
At the foot of the Mountains lies the meadow. Like an inverted peninsula it would flow, a parade of flowers set aflame by the passing winds. An eye cast in marvel to study the diverse populace would hang on the mercy of the returning airs.
Setting Course For A [New] Horizon
This is less a work of art, than a clarification of intention. I'm finally leaving my job and, unfortunately, the friends I suffered through it with. The good times I stayed there for are gone, but it's never been completely right for me, and I cannot deny that.
5 Minute Poem
Light upon the forming hills, As rays slide over with rising hue-- The trees change from shade to bright, As their mood seems to shift in turn;
60 Minute Saga #1 (Final Draft)
The following tale was comprised of four parts. Each had been written over the span of as close to 15 minutes as possible, the first three totally independent of one another.
60 Minute Saga #1: Free-Flowing Draft
The following tale is comprised of four parts. Each has been written over the span of as close to 15 minutes as possible, the first three totally independent of one another.
An Excerpt From The Island
* * * * * * * * * * Ernest Chadwick stood rooted to the spot, a pawn to puzzlement. He felt like a tree that has suddenly borne the most unlikely of fruits and contemplates a sly sacrifice to the passing breeze. It seemed that all but his mind was motionless as questions ricocheted back and forth in his head, amorphous pinballs dragging vapor trails in their wake.