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drabbles

By wolfinink

816 39 104

basically short stories ranging from 1 sentence to like 500 words, feel free to read if you're bored and look... More

the really, really, short ones
on love.
on immortality and teenagers
on thinking
on humans.
on aliens(?)
on writers
on perfection.
on owl(s)
on writing
on fixing (healing)
on assurances
on bad eyesight.
on lies
on ancient entities
on breaking
on rage
on monstrosities
hp house aesthetics!
another short one :D
on running under the stars
on dreaming
on those days
on forests
on incoherent words at 1am
on if you know me irl you don't
on words
on fiction
on apocalypses
on losing
on growing
on the sun and moon
on stubborn love
on writing
short drabble
on the end
on stupid things
fun with quotes
on drunk kisses
on coping mechanisms
on procrastination!!
on don't ever talk to me about this
on touch starvation
on breakdowns
on missing someone
on more breakdowns
on overwhelming
on dreams
on fate
on stargazing
on types of loving
on hurting
on satosugu
on happiness
on crumbling
on hope
on pride
on computers
on leap days
on a stream of consciousness
on spring hols
on sitting by the ocean
daily schedule
a good person
hatred
life
rot
voices
stargazer
choke
hatred
girlfriends
anxiety

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drabbles

Short Story

basically short stories ranging from 1 sentence to like 500 words, feel free to read if you're bored and looking for something to distract yourself :...

random

on words

27 0 0
By wolfinink

There are words in my head screaming to be free.

They try to claw their way out like desperate little goblins crying to be released from my brain, their shrieking like that of demons and grotesquely half-formed.

I chain them back, shushing them with mindless idle thoughts on the excuse that I cannot let them go until I break and re-make them into immaculate little elves. Yet even as they morph into an itch beneath my skin, a pain in my mind, torturing me, I try and try but cannot succeed.

I stare blankly at the empty space where the words beg to be written, and somehow my hands feel inadequate as they shake. I hesitate at every sentence, every word, trying to grasp that feeling of just-right and wrestle it into actual writing. My head buzzes as I struggle, and my abandoned responsibilities taunt my repetitive failure.

Or maybe I'm just trying to make writer's block sound poetic. 

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