You have to make a poem/ story (of any kind) using at least 3 of the 5 words that I've posted. tHEY MIGHT NOT ALL BE A SINGLE "WORD". You can obviously use more words than these 5 but you have to have at least 3 of the 5 somewhere in your poem/story. I don't care if it is fiction or notfiction or anything else, be creative. (You have to use at least three but the more you use the more chance you have of winning because that's extra creativity)
THE FIVE WORDS/PHRASE ARE:
3) SO BE IT
4) BLUE HIGHWAY
Deadline: is when I get 20 entries.
One person can submit 2 entires total (unless I say otherwise).
Prizes: I'll make it a surprise, but they'll be good.
I'm walkin down a path all alone
Remembering the Forgotten Worlds I have known
Remembering that December
Do you remember what I remember?
Our sweet escape in each other's embrace
Free from terror, free from hate
Now that golden path, light as day
Is a dark, endless Blue Highway
I'll never forget
The things you said
When I told you I'd left
You said, 'So be it'
But now I can't help wishing I could turn back time
Run straight in to your arms like I used to every night
Be the girl you loved so much more than anything else in the world
Would you let me be that girl?
I travel through forgotten worlds in my mind. Memories swirl across my line of vision, blurring out the world as it is today.
A bleak December morning, hidden by flurries of snow that tumble and swirl with the biting wind. I should have been inside, but I trudge through the soft, white powder to the tree. My tree. To some it is just an ancient oak tree, in the middle of a cemetary, with a rusty, iron gate through the middle. The tree had grown around the gate, and although I cannot explain it, this tree was special.
An empty blue highway, hard lumps of paint that feel rough under my fingers as I run them over the surface of the picture. What inspired an artist to paint a blue highway? It seemed to be a sweet escape from reality.
A plastic sword. A hig-pitched challenge. A cheerful smile plastered on the face of a young boy. I grinned and held out my own sword, crying into the light of the street lamp, "So be it!" and dueling him, to his great pleasure.
So many memories, with so little significance to all besides myself.
Totally making on... I'll have it in by Monday at the latest
So my piece is a bit long. Would you rather I publish it and then send you the link, or copy and paste?
If you were travel down the blue highway in my mind
With its various exits, purple streetlamps and bizarre design
You'd stop before you reached halfway,
And if you got that far, I'd be impressed.
With all the things to see
And forgotten worlds in there,
How could you possibly see it all
Without stumbling down a twisting corridor
Or getting stuck between an argument of my paradoxical thoughts?
What a sweet escape then, would be the ice cream slide
Of that nightmare I can't forget, put away or deny.
To you, stranger, it'd be endless delight,
But to me, it's like December without Christmas lights.
All those dusty caverns and moth-eaten hideous drapes.
You won't forget seeing my bloody tapes
My secrets and lies all hidden away.
You want to leave?
So be it, but you'll remember what you've seen.
Okay, but it might take a while for them to put it on, so I'll tell you then (because I don't think the actual post will fit in the space, but I'm not sure)
(This is a sneak peak to a longer story I want to write, so thanks for the inspiration, those are some really good phrases)
A bleak, desolate blue highway stretched before us. It was a cold December morning, the kind of morning when you feel sure your blood has frozen.
“Well Li, here’s where it starts.”
Meredith whispered over my shoulder, I didn’t know why we were whispering; it wasn’t like anyone could hear. The nearest person was ten miles away, everyone stayed as far away from the highway as possible. - But not us.
There were many words for the highway, “the exile”, “sweet escape” “the phantom freeway”... morbid, creepy kind of names you read about in a horror story. The villagers said that once you stepped foot on it, you would be cursed to stay on the road until you found the end. Not many people used it, just the people who were tired of living constantly in the dark village, or... the exiles. The ones who go kicked out of the village... the ones like us.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea...”
I hissed, my breath coming out in small clouds.
“What choice do we have, if we go back to the village you know they’ll...”
Meredith said, not finishing her sentence. But I knew what she would say- she would have said If we didn’t go on the highway, they would throw us into a well- the well. I didn’t have time to finish my thought. Meredith had walked closer to the road, her plain brown hair batted at her freckled face
“So be it.”
She stated, in a voice that didn’t seem like hers. She was more determined than I had ever seen her, her eyes seemed to glaze over as she took the first step... the step that could not be retraced. I followed her, grabbed her hand as she walked forward, but I couldn’t feel anything.
The world grew numb around me, my mind filling with faces- forgotten faces, forgotten paths, forgotten worlds, all of which I had known before that one step....
And now, I could feel myself disappear, dissipate into the landscape. Until it seemed I was one with the road. Except, it wasn’t a road- it was a river, and I was caught in a current, flailing wildly, but never going under. And the words in my head continued to echo...
“So be it.”
((May I join? please?))
We met on that cold December evening, years ago, but it’s still as clear as yesterday.
We met at a beach, on Christmas Eve, frost spiking the air, snowflakes drifting down, merging with the sand. You don’t think of snow and sand together, do you?
We met in a different world, a forgotten world. A world that was so much safer, a world where we were innocent and happy. A world I wish I could return to.
We met what seems a thousand years ago.
I remember the chill that was sneaking into my thick, padded coat and sinking into my skin that was already blue in the sea wind.
I remember my fingers curling tightly around my scarf, desperate for warmth, as the icy water slipped through my layers and turned my blood solid.
I remember mist materialising from my mouth, lips turning bluer than the sea. The sand sifted beneath my bare feet, cold and warm at the same time.
I remember seeing a shadow in the eerie moonlight, but staying calm. After all, this beach was my sweet escape from reality.
I wish I hadn’t seen you emerging from the blue highway that encased my surroundings, the road that was always silent, never a car passing by, day or night.
I wish you hadn’t walked forward and met my gaze, your green eyes swirling with dark intensity.
I wish you hadn’t stood next to me, in a strange companionable silence, even though we’d never met.
I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you.
So here I am, on Christmas Eve again, tears turning into ice as they rolled down my face, my coat and scarf next to me, leaving me freezing on the sand which were needles caressing my hands and feet.
You’re behind me like last time, so you’re unable to see my hysterics in the chilling wind.
You create a shadow like last time, one that’s glaring down at me whilst I’m curled into a ball, hiding myself from the evil in this world.
You walk and face me like last time, glowering at me with your dark complexion that enhances your jealous green eyes.
You’re silent like last time, abandoning me to rot in my own depression.
Unlike last time, I ask why you’ve come here, after I’ve told you to leave me now.
Unlike last time, I stumble to my feet, trying to meet your steady gaze, but the tears in my eyes blur my vision, so my courage is lost in the night air.
Unlike last time, you answer me by turning your back, turning away from me, turning away from the life we once had. I don’t follow; instead sink back to the floor, screaming out into the night air words which could cut glass, telling you to leave me, that you shouldn’t come back, ever, that I don’t love you.
Unlike last time, you reply with a calm response, without even looking back to see me one last time. “So be it.”
And with that, I stare at the never-ending sea, glistening in the moonlight, his last words ringing in my ears. Yet the only thought that refuses to leave my head is the beach. My beach. The beach that was once my sweet escape from reality, but now is my sweet imprisonment of reality.
This is both my first time posting somthing like this and it is totally a work of Fiction so try not to laughf it it is totally bad. :/ (the accutall soty starts onthe next line)
It was late December I was wondering if he would ever come home, I hadn't seen him in over a year. At least since mom died, but I still feel the need to see him. Even thought she was our only real connection. He is brother what else am I supposed to think about him? You aren't supposed to hate family right? But for some reason We just never got along, not as small children nor as teenagers, but that all had to change. I can't keep going on this way. It just isn't right it all started out as fun and games but soon it turned into a huge game of get back, mom was always telling us to just let it go, but neither of us ever really did. I guess that why I'm here today telling you this story. I wanted him gone. No needed him gone, this had been dragged out way too long.
We were both pretty good kids right? B's and C's in most classes, never got into any real trouble. But we were always together I never really could get away from him. He followed me around like a parasite, steeling he few friends that I did have, being the "popular twin." it didn't help that everyone thought we were the same person. I guess that's why we could never really get along. One of us always had to be better to the other, one up the other, I guess it just finally escalated to this.
We were finally together again, him and me. Of course I was the one driving though. He was too drunk to even function. Seeing me made him think o mom, and how I was always supposedly the favorite, even thought it was obviously him. I told him he could rest in the backseat if he wanted but he just wouldn't stop. He kept going on and on and on about our childhood. Trying to play the victim. But that wouldn't work, not on me at least. Maybe on our relatives or my supposed friends but it was not going to work on me. I couldn't take it anymore, we were on a long stretch of cold blue highway when I realized I had the perfect opportunity.
I could just end it now, end both of us here and now. No one would know the wiser I was a little buzzed as well. It could have been some freak accident me "accidentally" losing control of the car wouldn't be that big of a deal. The police wouldn't ask any questions, and if they did who would they ask? I would be dead too.
Now that I think about it, it really was a stupid idea, I was wearing a seatbelt and he wasn't. I was the driver and if I had hit the tree just a little bit different I probably would have died too. But I didn't I chickened out. I tried veer out of the turn but we were just going too fast! Why did it have to be him! Why not me!
I guess in the end what I was really thinking the whole time was so be it, I needed some sort of escape, some form of sweet sweet escape. But it didn't work out the way I had planned. I should have been the one to die not him. But what does it matter now I'm going to jail for it and I probably deserve it. If only I had thought it out more I would have died too or maybe just me and he finally could have one. But in the end he won he has mom and dad and all I have is this hell hole to show for it. I should have been me.
Like the seeds of a dandelion
In the December wind
Their tranquility disturbed
As they tumble and spin in the air
Their whispers "So be it!"
Fading as they spiral farther
Into their sweet escape
Above the flurries of snow
Above the clouds that drop
Each unique snowflake with care
Twirling like dancers
Into an endless blue highway
Although they are gone forever
They are forgotten no longer
Thank you :)
GAAAAA! I can't stand having the contest page last edited on December 11th!!
Yeah. I get really weird about the date on the contest page, and I just had to edit something, because the little December 11 on there was driving me absolutely insane.
The color of heaven is all and more, but blue is the one culturally accepted. Hell has none that I have knowledge of, but black would be my presumption. Black is the absence of light, for Lucifer turned away from the light symbolized in his own name.
Heaven and hell are the forgotten worlds for the egotistical, the worldly, and the denying. Perhaps they only truly take refuge in the dying. For those without faith, the cold begins as their body relaxes into the arms of death. The chill begins at the first prospect of death as it begins in the first wintry shiver of December. Into which state will the soul of a dying man be entered into? Is there any other state at all? Will the dying protest until his last breath, or will he embrace whichever fate his actions have chosen? Is death a sweet escape from the disappointing world that you call earth, or is it a terrifying thing to be forced away from the things you hold dear? How can you prepare for the catechism that may follow your death, if such a thing does exist?
There is no inquisition that will provide explanations to each of our questions beyond the doubt of all; not in this world, but perhaps in the next, if such a world exists. Each of us is on the same blue highway, but how is the blue interpreted in each person’s life. Do you see the blue as a symbol of peace, of loyalty, of wisdom, of faith, of cleanliness? Or is sadness, perhaps, all that you see? This is a question that you can answer, if you allow yourself to look into yourself in a deeper way. Bring the answer to the forefront of your activities, using the positive to enlighten your day, shaping the negative to be changed. ‘So be it’ may be the only peaceful phrase at the time of departure from this earth. Why not allow ‘it’ to be the heaven of tranquil forever?
((Oooh, I'm so sorry, I'll go work on my story for this.))
The snow whipped at the window pane of the attic. I sit in a large brown overstuffed dusty chair pushed up against the wall next to the window. I pulled by large quilted comforter closer around my small body and wipe the tears from my eyes.
It was December, almost Christmas, and now Grandpa wouldn't be able to be there. I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine him, lying there in the hospital, the machines beeping constantly. He'd be awake now, but he wouldn't recognize me. His once bright blue eyes that would sparkle when he told me of the forgotten worlds where dragons ruled and knights fought, or where ninja's soft tread filled the sleeping homes of evil samari warlords.
Opening my eyes I peer out the window of the attic. The blizzard has picked up, the house groans and moans as the wind shakes it's old timbers. Grandpa would have loved this weather, he'd have us kids gather around the fire place downstairs and tell us stories, his voice would roll like the ocean that pirates sailed on. Or he'd whisper as assassins crept up on a great king. I smile as I think of this. It's the first smile since that car accident that changed Grandpa.
Unwrapping the blanket I pad across the attic floor in my polar bear slippers. My Christmas plaid PJ pants swish around my ankles as I walk to the other side of the floor. I pick up a large dusty leather book. I wipe my hand across the dust cover and smile as I see the gold leaf lettering. DRAGON STORIES, my finger traces the fancy scrawl of the old letter, opening the book I feel the soft paper of the page. My smile grows, Grandpa wouldn't be able to tell us stories this Christmas, so be it, I will read them to him. He always loved these stories the best.
I turn and run down the stairs, I have to get ready to visit Grandpa. I was going to read to Grandpa!
When are the winner(s) gonna be announced? :)
I kneel down on the grass in front of the tomb stone. The flowers in my hands slip to the ground. I place my hand on top of the smooth stone, tears stream down my face like they did the first time we laid him to rest. My vision is bleary as I stare at the stone, the writing is hard to read due to the tears blurring my vision. I know what it says though.
December 13, 1990
November 5, 2009
Beloved Son and Brother
I've been here so many times I know the inscription by heart. I cry harder, it wasn't fair! He was so young, so brave. His life had been snatched away from him in the prime of his youth. Is press my forehead against the hand on the grave stone.
"God, dear God, I don't understand why you took him. He was so young, I know he loved you God, he loved you with all his heart, but why? Why? did you take him?" I murmur my tearful prayer, not looking up to the great blue highway of the clear autumn sky. He would've loved today, it was so beautiful and peaceful. I take a deep breath,
"God, I wish you hadn't taken him, he was a such a light down here, it’s dark without him, God. I loved him, he was the best brother any sister can ask for. Little Joseph didn't even get to meet him, he's always asking about the older brother who died when he was a baby though. And mom, she's not the same, more distant, quiet, she cries if we even mention Nathaniel. Dad, well he pretends to be OK, he tries to be strong, I hear cry though, God. I hear him cry when he's out in the garage and thinks no one is around."
I pause in my prayer to take a shaky breath and look up at the sky, it was still clear, I'm not crying anymore, I wipe the water from my eyes and stand up. I study the sky for a while longer, it reminds me of him. Not in the harsh painful way the empty chair at the table does, or the quiet locked room at the end of the hall does. This reminds me of him in a gentle soft way, it calms me. I take a couple more shaky breaths and look back down at the tomb.
"I may not understand why you took him, God, I may not like it. So be it, we don't have to understand your plans. I'm not asking for him back God, I know that can't happen. He-" I choke on my words as I feel myself about to cry again, "He died bravely, and he died for what he believed in. Now he's enjoying his sweet escape from this earth. But God, please, I want my family to be comforted, I want them to be happy again. Please God, please." I finish in a whisper.
Bending down I fix the flowers on the grave so the look better than I straighten and look at the tomb again, reading the inscription I know my heart one more time. "Good bye, Nathaniel." I whisper, than I turn and walk down the cemetery path, away from my brothers grave.
((Here's my second entry, I hope the spacing adn such works out. -_-))