http://slow.writerscafe.org/TheMessage The original writings of author The Message en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776065951 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Written based off of words selected in the Doki Doki Literature Club poetry minigame thingy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/2000066/      Confusion is the ally to a weary skunk that sits in sloth at the edge of a dreaming era. Then it breaks free at the scene of a battle, the coming rush into a storm of arrows so futile. One by on the tiny cities collapse upon themselves and implode. The light they cast mars e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/1020223/      Well, it hadn't gone very well. Like a dry season with clouds for lips and the only meat is stone. So starvation was the only option. That could be alright in time, one would think.      And they were missing. Where? When? And now I'm roaming. Who let me .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/1020222/     "And so what if Lejza is dead? What would it matter to the world that forgot his penultimate words?"    I wasn't alone any more, not here in the room of wood and iron planks. The officials now sit in great oak chairs, their weeping pores emptying into the moldy base.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/1020219/ Jasmine, Mark and I walked out into the street, the towering theater looming behind. The rotting corpse of a man stood before us on the sidewalk.  Long, pale worms slipped from his weathered brown skin onto the ground, spasming about and shrieking into the dawning night. He unhinged his jaw an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/715931/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/715903/      He was yammering on again incessantly. Words flew at her through the air, tumbling in and out of her ears. The headache builds. And still he drones on and on about some nonsensical opinion on property taxes. Or newspapers. She can't tell, is beyond caring or comprehending an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/642804/ 5/10/2008 Oh how they tickle. The gliders smooth away the roughest flesh, clean the plate clean. The shimmering coat comforts, gleams, praises and prides. And the smell! Sublime.5/13/2008 It hit hard, wet and red. A sphere, a meteor, a demon. What was it? Gone now, plucked away. Another ne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/633330/           -I-     I don't like to leave the house since the war. Those winding airs speak terror to me still, like whispers impure. Inside they can't reach, inside I can only view my lush green gardens and not the grey expanse beyond. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/633320/ These stones of graniteThese windswept barren dead onesLast of the numberLost of the clawing marchersThose pitiful abscesses http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/631049/      I was nervous as I came in from the street. The hotel lobby was vacant and sterile, cold. I could hear someone rummaging around in the room behind the front desk, but I continued on without disturbing them, eager to avoid unnecessary contact. The elevator ride seemed like an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/626557/ I - Seeds     There is a field within the vibrant plains of Kes, a field of endless bounty and mirth. In this field the grasses grow uniformly and evenly, the flowers shimmer with a miraculous luster and the bushes exude a wondrous, calming mist. All of these plants exist without.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/619805/ And so your friendthe wild, red-eyed goat manshares his mind along the shore,he tells you in stoic trendthe vapid, absent planthat governed beforeand nowAnd so upon that reedy beachyou sat away the daylostbut joy in reachand the sun your only payhow it wills away the frost,that frauBut when the sphe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/617386/ And upon the pier,that jut from whence Iwould chance tonight to die,there was liquescent fearAnd although 'twas merethat feeling, the lie,I lurched back awryfrom this never known hereIn the minute caress ofa withered, blackened dove The slime would comeoh, that the slime wouldenter and plumbthese le.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/614885/ -I-     "Hello, I'm empty inside. Could I paint your house?"     "You want to paint my house?"     "Yes."     "Oh, uh... that's strange. Sure, I guess."     Uncomfortable fidgeting, eyes everywhere bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/612891/      The figure sat at the foot of my bed in an ancient chair that smelled of dust and leaves. He had no facial features except for two piercing sapphire eyes. His only clothing appeared to be a yellow robe that seemed almost to be an extension of his flesh. His arms were folded .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/611409/      This "book" is going to be a new sort of experiment for me. Usually when I share art with others, be it music or writing, I have to have the full product finished before anyone can see it. For this, I've decided to reverse this procedure almost entirely, in that not only wil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/611400/ A serial, semi-interactive novel. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/611393/      The street is abuzz with activity, cars and people and people in cars and wandering about the world of artifice unaware. David is abuzz with activity too, walking at an unusually swift pace. Not unusual for others, mind you, but unusual for him and his ordinarily sloth-like .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/598289/      The worms began shifting again, finally ready to begin the day. To take control of their ultimate destiny. They shuffled over to the pale blue stone in the center of the muddy chamber and peered into its depths, bearing witness to the toil of humanity.    &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/598244/      Jake was on the roof of his retirement home, staring out into the distance. He decided to take his life today, because if he had to die he would do it on his own terms. Jake always was proactive like that.     He slowly rose out of his wheelchair and bega.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/598243/      The six men opened their mouths in unison. Then they closed them. Then they opened them, and closed them again. This was repeated seventeen more times before the mouths stayed shut.     One of the men licked the handle of his torch and then began humming,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/598239/      It was a nice day at the beach, the waves were gentle and the air held clouds aloft just substantial enough to hold the sun's rage at bay. Children were running around and playing, but Thom wasn't. Thom was sitting on a rock, staring off into the distance. Thom saw it first... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/597453/      The worms finally woke up. A few of the number grumbled but it was no use, today was an important today. Today was the perhaps the most important day they had ever known. Today was the day they acted first.     The worms decided to wait around for a bit b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/597445/      Mary was rolling down the side of hill. She enjoyed doing that. It was all ok though, the hill was quite grassy and concluded in gentle slope. Unfortunately for Mary, the base of that gentle slope was about to become a flaming sinkhole the size the school she won't be attend.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/597440/      The five blue-robed men stood in a pentagonal circle around a porcelain pot decorated with depictions of dark and dreadful beings. It was a priceless antique, the only remaining one of its kind and each of them was urinating into it in turn. After the fifth member had reliev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/559098/      Lydia was watching for cars. She was taught to always watch for cars when crossing the road. The problem was, she had no idea how long she was supposed to stand there watching for cars or what she was supposed to when seeing them. Normally when confronted with those sort of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/559095/      The worms ceased their slumbering... slowly. The worms did everything slowly. The had been sleeping for 547 years, since the last time their plot was thwarted. They were too slow to act. This time would be different though, this time they would finish the ritual before they .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/557616/      Sam woke up late. Late for work, late lunch, late for life. He stumbled into the bathroom, urinated, and stumbled back out. He didn't care about getting fired, he didn't care about much.     That's ok.     Sam got dressed and walked ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/557597/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/557591/       There is a man living in a room somewhere right now. He is watching a game show on television and eating sour cream and onion potato chips. He is wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt with a picture of a camel on it. The camel is thinking, "Man, it's hot," as indicated by a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/555897/      David Strauss was a man, and his name was David Strauss. He once stood in a puddle for twenty-five minutes letting the water seep in through the soles of his shoes and adoring the subtle sensations only to head inside when it started to rain. He did not wish to get wet.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/555896/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/555894/      There were flowers. I touched one and it gently receded, my finger tip occupying the space in the universe where a petal once was. The fragrance was astounding, the colors were the most vivid I had ever seen. I couldn't even identify half of them by name anymore, but I could.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/536600/ A short story in eleven parts. It just felt right to do it this way instead of my usual method of sectioning. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/536592/ Pantoum form, written for a contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/536586/ It was just off the path,the daily track I walk,where I heard emanate a squawk.Well, it had qualities of a yelp,rather, and I turned to see who needed help,as avians often do.But this bird had four and not twoand those eyes met my own,surrounded naught by what flying has shownto be desired, and shou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/521196/ The ocean hazewhimpers softlytowards land.And winds watch them for days,pounding shore deftly with consistent, comelyblows. She beholds silver traysin elaborate arrays,the liquid slowlyswirling. Outwardly,the foam laps, plays and spraysjets of cool sandupon hot landso sanguine.They do bid herto reme.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/519548/ Storms will hold you close,the dream anchor sun.They lift the sky seed,of the dream anchorsun of broken light. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/519531/ Love22(2)16Only11(12Alright10(-2)22(-1)2And so it is.This birdwill walk a million sunsand speakto the only lonely goatof things to come.Melting,it was felt thatthey shan't have spatenchantingvigor upon these weak,this absent flock of sheep.So truly16(12)15(15)22 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/518716/ I was told the end would be beautifulbut all I see is anguished,ugly and terrifying.Now she is nearly weepingfrom the sting,thought we would never seeher sing...yet there it is.And the dissonance writhesand the wiping criessoft white tears upon the withered,lost to a coffinmetallic,such is what we t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/517742/      I awoke, weary and bruised, strapped to a chair in the darkness. There was a persistent drip of water on stone, the only audible anchor to reality. How long I had been unconscious, I cannot say. I was thirsty, I was hungry, but above all I was confused.   &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/504222/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/504220/ Brown http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/500755/ Outward spreadingthe feet like mirrorsbehindvoices twoindifferent, deny itcalled outspoke too soonthat we dared speak at allas I step in the corridor behind mestretching out ahead. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/500754/ A guided stream of consciousness poem for a contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/500042/ You're a grave to them.A burrow for the furrowing,A mule in constant stirring.You give them a licence to craveAnd in madness behaveLike the hole tilled from soil, unearthed.You're a grave to them,My friend,When they lower you into the muddy earth. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/498370/ The smell of death was my only friend.He'd rot my clothes,let me wilt a spin.No, father, hunt me not in herelest mother find me lost to fear. The smell of death was my only adversary.In the molding throes,a crackle of rosary.The distinct scent of crimeblotted home in foetid .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/498359/ They would cut us looseto help the world get richer,help the snow get thicker.They will steal the light from our cure,steal the life from our furin this last gasp of a crocodile's tear. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/487940/      Paul Guttenz steps into the street, white lights glaring endless overhead throughout this concrete dominion. He is thin, wire-like perhaps, with blonde hair and ruby eyes. His shotgun has only six shells to feast upon.     Two beasts swoop down upon the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/TheMessage/487556/