The Nexus of Writers

For once, Myra was glad she had Naomi’s advice. She had been used to eighty degree summers, but the high nineties and high humidity make it a thousand times more miserable.           Eventually, she went to find Earl. “Can you turn the air conditioning down?” she begged. “I can’t stand this heat!”           “Air conditioning is broken,” Earl shrugged. “The heater works fine, but I made sure it was off because, while I’m not sure about the rest of you, I sure don’t want this place to be too hot.” He chuckled a little and began making more notes on a paper in from of him.           “What’s that?” Myra inquired. Her voice seemed edgy, and she hoped Earl would assume it was because of the heat.           “I’m considering things we might want to do,” Earl informed her. “The beach for sure is something I’v...

The Houses of Hogwarts is a four-poem series I have been working on. Credit to Hogwarts and the four houses (and their attributes) goes solely to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K.Rowling. Houses of Hogwarts: Hufflepuff -------------------------------- She kind and loyal, Her path never strays. Make her your friend, And she'll never leave. She's a Gryffindor, When her friends need aid. She's a Ravenclaw, When her friends need knowledge. She's a Slytherin, When her friends have ambitions. But deep inside, Despite the outcomes, She's your friend, Simple as that. --------------------------------

Let's first be honest. 1k views isn't much. It's kinda pitiful, overall. But, let me retell my past blog experiences... Once I had a short story blog (it's deleted). It got maybe 2 views a day, or something like that, and after 1 year, it had a bit more than a hundred views. Second blog was my Bunker Story blog. It managed to snag 900 views in 4 months. Third blog is my Guardians of the Infinite Realms blog. It's been around a month, probably has 50-100 views or something. It still gets views daily, despite how the last post was shortly after its release. Don't ask why, I have no clue. Fourth blog is this blog. 1k in 1 month! :D But I'm not going to brag, because I have no bragging rights. YOU GUYS are the ones who viewed my page, so technically, they're YOUR views. YOU are helping my blog to grow, and I appreciate it! Thank you so much, and have a great December, and an even better 2019! ...not that I'm leaving. I'm sticking around. I just...

By a wall that never falls, Near the bird that never sings. Life is pain, and that is that, But forever more, I’ll stay the same. Running like a cheetah, Writing like a scholar; Climbing like a monkey, Talking like a parrot; My joy will never end.

Mystery, A great enemy, It shrouds the vision of all. In its wake are shadows, In its grasp are claws. In its hands are minds, Who couldn't handle its laugh. Mystery, A great enemy, It consumes the hearts of all. But mystery gives way for Understanding each time, Because you cannot learn, Without the unknown.

I want to make memories with you.  I want to make sound when the silence  envelops us like a blanket. And I want  to remember every syllable that makes  you smile.

Question 1: "Why is writing so important to you?" Oh, jeeze, okay. It used to be my only outlet. Still kind of is, but it would be the only way I could get all these bottled up emotions somewhere other than inside of my head. It came to me during a time I needed it the most, when I had absolutely no one, and it still acts as that outlet. It's a much healthier way of venting and since then has become not only my go to, but a genuine interest that I enjoy. I can't foresee myself quitting, it was like I got on a train and now I never want to get off. Or an addict that doesn't want to come down from the high. Question 2: “What are some things you do in real life to help come up with inspiration?” Honestly, I don't really do anything. I read a lot, and listen to music and sometimes a word or phrase can spark inspiration. I've read a lot of poetry, which has helped bring me towards my style of writing, and sometimes a word or phrase in a poem triggers an id...

Naomi threw the present hard against the wall and cried out in frustration. All she wanted to do was be Myra’s friend, but she couldn’t get close. After thirty minutes of sobbing endlessly, she managed to get a hold of her emotions and calm down. She hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours, yet. I can’t expect her to accept me with open arms.           She wiped her face and went to her door. On the back, she had a list of things she needed to remember to do. She stared at “Befriend Myra” and shook her head at herself. She took the pen and wrote, “Wash Face”. She locked her door and made her way back to her bed. Lifting the mattress, she pulled out a small stack of papers. She pulled the bottom one out specifically and wrote the date elegantly at the top. Letting her emotions go free, she began to write into her tear-stained journal. When Myra woke the next day, she could immediately tell something was up. There was too much noise i...

Phoenixes burst into flames and rise from their ashes. I tear myself down over mistakes I’ve made but then I realize I can’t help it and rise from those mistakes.

It opens eyes, and cups ears, That you may see, and you may hear; Its arms open to the world it reaches, To all who listen, everything it teaches; Its presence is felt all around, In its love, we all abound.

The Houses of Hogwarts is a four-poem series I have begun to work on. Credit to Hogwarts and the four houses (and their attributes) goes solely to the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K.Rowling. Houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor -------------------------------- He's strong and brave, and pure of heart, his actions shout his power and skill. They confront fears, and raise their wands, danger doesn't scare them at all. Confidence and bravery are who they are, they don't tolerate misbehavior. When you meet him, you will see, Their skill is superior, it's not a mystery. --------------------------------

You may be a bit confused if you haven't read the rest of the series, but here's the Thanksgiving Special specifically. 20 Years Later The most common question Mark got was, “What do you think it’s like out there?” Well, now he knew. He had been a High Elder for precisely three hours before he discovered the truth. The world above is safe. We’re trapped down here because the High Elders are too prideful to admit they were wrong. Mark had quit immediately after learning about that, although Gail quietly told Mark that she was going to remain High Elder. Every day since he found out, which was nearly seventeen years ago, he had hung out in the Crafts Room, even though he was bad at crafts. And just like that, he accidentally snapped a stick he was using to build a miniature house. “That’s the fifth snap in the last ten minutes,” reported a young girl working directly on the other side of the table. “Not to mention yesterday. And the day before that. Going back...

Things are never as they seem, For that I am certain. A thousand tales I have known, And all will repeat. Politics will be corrupt, Sorrows will infect; Anger will destroy, Starvation will kill; Thirst will consume, Winds will overcome; Yet in these all, I've seen you before; Every time I fall, I see you again. You've been with me, Shared in my suffering. Let me repay the favor, Because here I will stay.

Myra woke up at around six in the morning, and tiptoed out of her room. She noticed many of the doors closed, and at one, she heard a man snoring loudly, and instinctively knew it was Earl.           She moved back to her room and opened the closet. Brushing away a tear, she looked through the dresses. Many were sparkly and bright, but she settled on a plain black sundress. She moved into her private bathroom and quickly combed her hair. She slipped on a pair of black sandals and looked at herself in a mirror that reached from the ceiling to the floor. She looked pitiful, but at least she didn’t look like she crawled out of a garbage can.           She made her way to the grand entry doors and cringed as a voice rang out.           “Where are you going?”           Myra turned and found Naomi staring ...

It was after they had been driving an hour that the idea of turning away from the window even occurred to Myra, but she quickly dismissed the thought. To look away from the window is to either face the road ahead or look at Henry Lateen. Either way, I’d rather stare out this window.           Staring out the window wasn’t pleasant. She had no clue when Henry had decided to take a “scenic route”, but it led straight through a city that featured crumbling buildings and poverty-stricken children crying or searching for some form of nutrition. The town seemed to go on and on endlessly…           Eventually, Myra gave in, and whirled to face Henry. “Why are you taking this route?” She made sure she said “you” instead of “we” so he knew that she didn’t like this sequence of events one bit.           Henry seemed to hesitate for a split second before an...