Lilac,

You used to tell me
that the world was full of rainbows,
that the galaxy was full of stars,
that you could find beauty in anything
if you looked close enough.

I always believed you.
We could fight anything,
you and I,
just by finding the part of it
that was too beautiful to fight
at all.

I used to compare you
to a dandelion.
Do you remember?
A golden flower in a garden of green,
labeled as a weed.
To Be Destroyed.

But
if a dandelion can survive long enough,
it becomes
something else:
a delicate bundle of seeds
which people pin their hopes to
before letting it fly away into the breeze.

Plenty of people
pinned their hopes to you,
Lilac.
Who wouldn't?
But plenty also labeled you
as a weed.
They labeled both of us.

I.
Could.
Never.
Understand.
That.

But now, I think
I might not have to.
Do you need
to understand your enemy
to vanquish them?

You would say 'yes,
of course',
if you were still here.
You would tell me
to find the beauty,
to find the part that didn't
deserve to be vanquished.

But you aren't here.
You're gone.
Gone.
And you're
========never
================coming
========================back.


And it hurts,
Lilac.
It hurts
more than you
could ever know.

How
could
you
just
leave
me?

But right now,
I have more important things to worry about.
More important,
even,
than writing to you.

Writing.
Calling.
Shouting.
Crying.
They all seem the same now.

The anger,
all the anger you
helped me to hide,
consumes me.
It turns me
into something more.

If you could see
my eyes now,
Lilac,
you would be scared
of me.
But I don't let myself
think about the disappointment
I would see
in yours.

You don't need to understand
why your enemy does
what they do
in order to
vanquish them.

All you need
to understand
is how to
point
the
gun
and
shoot
.

Beautiful, @Lucia Fox! The wording and the way you formatted the poem is gorgeous, and it flows nicely!

Hello, everyone! We are so, so sorry we've missed the past couple weeks, a lot has been going on and it got away from us. Thanks for your patience, the next prompt will be posted shortly.

Reducio

@Suzanne Byrd - Co-leader
@Anja Murtaja
@Bailey Glade
@Michael Miller
@Gabriella Haworth
@Callista Lovis
@Rhea Miller
@Lucia Fox
@Alex Evans
@Aurora Ranvier
@Eliza Corrids
@Lilian Davis
@Amethyst Logan
@Everly Charlton
@Simon Kincaid
@Kage Suzuki
@Katrina Walker
@Nersin Winthrope

(hope I got everyone!)

Prompt #10

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Good morning, and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good

night! After a short interlude, welcome back to W.O.R.D! This week's prompt is instructions. Now, I'm quite sure you all know what those are, so I won't be including a definition, but if you don't, go look it up. Today, we will be looking at a piece by beloved and prolific author, Neil Gaiman. Yes, the one who wrote Coraline. The title of this book is, you guessed it, Instructions. Here is a link to a beautifully narrated video. It's quite relaxing, actually. I will put it under this sentence:

For those of you on school laptops that have restrictions for everything under the sun, the words are in reducio:

Reducio

“Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never
saw before.
Say “please” before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted
front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat
nothing.
However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.
From the back garden you will be able to see the
wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter’s
realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.
If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.
Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from
one’s lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.
Remember your name.
Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped
to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).
There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is
why it will not stand.
When you reach the little house, the place your
journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden gate
you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.
And rest."

Now, your (completely optional, as always) task is to write a story or poem or bit of prose inspired by this piece. Typically, it would read as instructions. This means using a lot of the second person, so "you do this, you do that." A review of pov (point of view):

1st person: "I knit a blanket, it is difficult for me."
2nd person: "You knit a blanket, it is difficult for you."
3rd person: "He/she/they knit a blanket. It is difficult for he/she/them."

Got that? Great. Now take flight, writers! And have fun!

Reducio

@Suzanne Byrd - Co-leader
@Anja Murtaja
@Bailey Glade
@Michael Miller
@Gabriella Haworth
@Callista Lovis
@Rhea Miller
@Lucia Fox
@Alex Evans
@Aurora Ranvier
@Eliza Corrids
@Lilian Davis
@Amethyst Logan
@Everly Charlton
@Simon Kincaid
@Kage Suzuki
@Katrina Walker
@Nersin Winthrope

Okay, there was a bit of a mixup. Week 8 was our 2nd Group RP, (which I posted but I think forgot to put in this thread) and Colors was our ninth prompt. So Instructions is week #10. Again, thanks for your patience!

Your heart will beat to the rhythm of a thousand drums
But do not be afraid.
Your head will pound with the roar of a thousand whispers
But do not be afraid.
Your eyes will be overwhelmed by the vision of a thousand colours
But do not be afraid.

Whatever you do
Do not be afraid.

You will face a scene that use to be of your imagination

You will hear the sounds that could only have imagined once

You will see the sights that you could have only closed your eyes to see

You will smile like you did when you would dream beneath the stars

You would remember when you created your own world long before and smile at it now as a reality

Without further ado, welcome to our next prompt! This week we are focusing on music. This is pretty open-ended. It could be writing a song, or taking inspiration from one you like. Maybe you craft a poem with a line from your favorite lullaby as the title. Or else you write a short story based on the image some pop ballad creates in your head when you hear it. There are no rules, except that if you plan on sharing, the age rating must be PG-13 or lower, thanks. Use your best judgement; if it's not appropriate, I (or an admin, ig) will let you know and and ask you to change or remove it. Oh, and have fun, of course. I can't wait to see what y'all come up with!

Manuscript Girl

Sometimes it seems like she's just
A page of manuscript paper,
All blank and neat and beautiful
And ready to be scribbled all over
With tunes and melodies and lyrics.

Maybe it's her voice:
It sounds like she's always singing,
Or, at least, waiting to sing,
And every word spoken is just
A rehearsal for the real thing.

Or maybe it's the way she walks:
It looks like she's always swaying
To the beat of a song nobody else
Can hear; but she can,
And that's all that matters.

But she's still a blank page,
Still ready to be moulded
And shaped
And written on,
Until her smooth rhythms
Become something more,
Something else.

Until her manuscript is scribbled on,
All over,
And transformed
From a blank page
To a song

Ohmygosh, @Lucia Fox I love that! "Or maybe it's the way she walks:/It looks like she's always swaying/To the beat of a song nobody else/Can hear; but she can,/And that's all that matters." and "But she's still a blank page,/Still ready to be moulded/And shaped/And written on,/Until her smooth rhythms/Become something more,/Something else." were my favorite. Wow! Such great word vibes/mental pictures.