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- Second Place in Epistolary Challenge
Dear Resusci Annie
Dear Resusci Annie, I know we just met and this seems forward, Excuse my hands as I place them thus, Two fingers at your bust,
Judey KalchikPublished about a year ago in Poets Epistolary Challenge Winners
What a unique Challenge, to write a poem in letter form. This brilliant idea was inspired by Korina Camel from our Shape the Future of Vocal session!
Vocal Curation TeamPublished 12 months ago in ResourcesFrom the Aquarian Journal - A Whiney-ass Expose'
From the Aquarian Journal - A Whiney-ass Expose *** Content Warning: Contains Whining, Self-pity and Explicit Language*** There are moments, as part of the human condition, when I just want to give it all up - throw in the towel - bury my head in the sand - blame everything or everyone else. Well, I guess it’s just one of those days (don’t listen to this song, which contains very vulgar language and references, if you are offended by such things). But, in the end, I just can’t, or won’t. Guess I’m stubborn like that. What I have learned over decades is that, once I spend a short time whining and berating myself, I like to take a deep-dive into my own reality, burst the delusions, and improve where I need to improve. The “fault” is rarely external. It’s not - Poor me - nobody likes me or my writing - they just don’t understand.
KJ AartilaPublished 12 months ago in Journal5 Harsh Life Truths That Even The Most Optimistic Folks Will Face, And Exactly How To Face Them Head-On (And Thrive)
"Transformation is a process, and as life happens there are tons of ups and downs. It's a journey of discovery - there are moments on mountaintops and moments in deep valleys of despair." - Rick Warren
Rick MartinezPublished about a year ago in HumansRedemption Song
Mornings with you are what make my heart sing those first moments when our eyes meet when sunlight falls across your face
The Invisible WriterPublished about a year ago in FictionField of vision
It's like this: After a long climb, calves aching, we finally reach the upper deck and step through the arch
Sonia Heidi UnruhPublished about a year ago in PoetsThem
After the confrontation, Lexi had to leave the apartment to clear her head. ‘A walk around the block will do,’ she thought to herself ‘or perhaps around the globe,’ she added in despair. The gravel scraped underfoot as she strode angrily across driveway after driveway and lights flashed over her face when she walked under streetlamps. She was moving fast, fast and away from her.
ThatWriterWomanPublished about a year ago in FictionA Little City Music
They say this city never sleeps I say it is a Shepard tone an escalator of illusion forever rising, forever falling a conductor-less orchestra eternally
Post-Anthropocene
She dreamed of magic coming back upon her birth. Her sky was the inside of her shell. Her name was in her bones, but she hadn't grown into it yet.
Matthew DanielsPublished about a year ago in Fiction📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 5/18/23
Starts at 12PM ET on 5/18/23. Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
Raise Your Voice by VocalPublished 12 months ago in ResourcesRipples in the Calm
Chapter One Every night at midnight, the purple clouds come out to dance with the blushing sky. 'Ugh!' Jacob scribbled out the lines in frustration before ripping the sheet from his notebook and throwing the crumpled ball of paper over his shoulder.
Lilly CooperPublished about a year ago in FictionWrong House
He told himself he'd be okay with whatever happened. He made a promise to himself and to Michelle. All lies. A foolish dream that he'd be the bigger person for once.
Heather HublerPublished about a year ago in FictionLevels
We're so high that the railroad below is a miniature toy train set. “We stay together", Ellie affirms, squeezing my hand. But I'm afraid. My soul drops as the dragon screeches. The beast is prehistoric, modern-day, and futuristic... all at once. Life has become a video game.
A Tender Heart
We met in a coffee shop. Our hands touched when you grabbed your drink. You took a sip. Said it tasted exquisite. I said I liked your smile.
Jayna
Jayna and I were playing tag. The autumn leaves glowed amber in the sunlight, crunching under my bare-feet. Dusk crept up on us, pulling the sun down like a sinking anchor.
surge capacity
there's a word for this when the air burns your lungs and the talking heads send shivers down your spine when it is all too much
I’m Calling Corporate Bullshit: Why You Should Never Bring Your Authentic Self to Work
In a world where the office is increasingly turning into a new altar of worship, and work is the religion, the concept of ‘bringing your whole authentic self to work’ is a siren song. This song promises a sense of belonging, purpose, and even transcendence. But as we look closer, a cunning corporate ploy emerges from the depths: the commodification of your identity. The implications of this ploy go beyond the workplace, permeating the very fabric of our society and personal lives.
Paige HollowayPublished about a year ago in JournalRelic
Sophie Murphy paid the Uber driver as she stood in the circle driveway. Ten years ago she vowed to never come back to this place. The memories were painful, the resentment nibbled at her even now. Her grandparents’ house looked the exact same, huge and intimidating. The Greek revival home towered among the blooming magnolia trees. Sophie squinted at the white façade as it gleamed in the shadows of the afternoon sunlight. She knew her mother would be inside, all of them would be. The whole family. Granddaddy Murphy was the only one of them that ever really loved her and he was the reason she made the trip. With his final breaths, he begged them to come together and try to be a family one more time. For his sake, she would try again. Her peace of mind was on the verge of evaporation. But vows meant nothing in the face of death.
Dana StewartPublished about a year ago in FictionSkeletons in the Closet
It was a stunning ordeal for Celine Anderson; her good night's sleep was suddenly interrupted by various sounds coming from inside the house. Celine rose out of her bed to inspect, and her brief investigation resulted in the young woman being assaulted by a sinister hooded culprit. The scuffle, fortunately for Celine, didn't last long, as the culprit got away once the sound of the home's owner, Sebastian French, rushing downstairs, armed with a baseball bat.
Clyde E. DawkinsPublished about a year ago in FictionTouching Hope
Before I chose you, I didn’t know how painfully sharp words could pierce How deep their wounds would gouge How altering the scars they left