Stream of Consciousness
Snow Forest
The snow fell softly, like an array of small feathers engulfing the sounds of nature. The dense woodland was eerily quiet as River took her first step, sinking into the light, powdery snow. Peace encumbered her, and a wave of calm swept over the entire forest. Step after step, the woods swallowed her. If she hadn't a sense of direction, you could say she was lost. But she knew these woods, she's walked their paths many times. She was home.
By Kendra J. Anthony2 years ago in Fiction
Snow
I was flung from one side of the container to the next. My body banged against the thin nylon of the bag and crashed into some type of jar containing many fragrant beads. The throbbing in my head was only eased by remembering her smile as she ate those round pebbles. What was the term she called it? Coffee! Yes, that’s it, I thought triumphantly.
By Isabella Rose2 years ago in Fiction
The Snowman and Me
I sat watching the snowman melt through my window. Every day, I checked to see if he was still there, holding fast. Today, his hat had fallen crooked. His middle torso drooped like sagging shoulders, but his eyes remained firm. His stare resonated through me. I couldn’t help but feel connected somehow, but I couldn’t place the feeling. The glass fogged, and I wiped the mist with my palm for one blurry last look. It’s much warmer indoors, but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe we were both melting. It feels like that sometimes. No matter how much you try to remain strong and steady, the world melts it all away.
By Simon George2 years ago in Fiction
Misplaced Word
In thinking of the right words to say , I know, I may not sound like what you may want me to say. Whether at home or living abroad,(“comfortably,”with words,)one may wonder about the moronic silences that can creep in between the said-unsaid. And also, as in the trotting troopship, some words can lecture into passages, exchanging new forms, imagery or even a new meaning, shot up as a necessity of being on the “same-page,”day or age. You may say —Oration is not for the faint hearted, and rationing it,calls for an absolute discretion. Thus, engaging in this “tag game,” of verbal exchanges, one can experience the effect of adventure, total amazement or even staggered bewilderments. So here the course can take on any “object,” (of perception,) and plant it over any other imaginative state💭of objective- subjective existence. And herein arrives the “misplaced word,” acting up to the displaced “subjective-objective field,” of metaphoric arrays, fitting closely as it ever may. And in trying to be most —deep and clear, the word as an object, can get obliquely opaque in stating that which it is representative of saying, anyways. What’s there in this “gaming-naming,” fame— you may ask?! The ruling signifier in this gaming-naming process is a contraption, perhaps, like a metamorphosis, wildly given as a transformative imagery symbolically passed on as a customary causation. Hopefully not a casualty. For example,look at the aspect of this simple erudition conveyed in the following poem — With withered leaves I weave my boat and seemingly float it on the vast I know not how to swim , ‘coz they know not how to cast —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 An Omnibus of thought 💭 July 18th,2021 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti Symbolically, the preceding can ( in all frankness,) be perceived , perhaps, on different accounts of notions and perceptions. The opacous turbidity in those words could be deciphered either as a gray or a grey matter all the way, which “while being read as an “object,”of imagination, could be seen as a misplacement , displacement, approbation or even appropriation of words, displayed in so many alternative ways. And for the seeding growth seeking consanguinity with the world of illusive logics, translucency can get tied to the space- time or time-spaced passage. That makes a world of difference! There are no two thoughts to it ! “Quae visa placent,” says St. Thomas Aquinas —which literally implies that “objects,” have the power to please. Hence, a perceived object can only be —“that much appealing,” in as much as it impresses the eyes of the beholder. And done with skill, “object- words”can be equally gratifying but only to the extent that they succeed in seeking the approval of the mind’s eye. So, clearly, goodness in words or word objects seem evident in the way they reveal themselves in sight and most of all, the context of the revealing situation. Therefore, misplaced words ( objects) can be both panoramic and equally startling in our grander understanding of things and contexts. For example the word-object named Apple 🍎 in the context of it’s appearance takes on a different connotation in the book of genesis. In fact the Apple’s 🍎 whole tendency gets associated with a prohibitive act against it’s consumption. First, it becomes a source of pleasure and then, it gets traced to a sort of subjective—objectification by the beholder ; a matter of suggestive effect depicted and portrayed in it’s very nature , manner and composition. So on account of discrimination painted against Apple 🍎, I protest ! Why should mankind give a far lesser or greater personification to objects on their own accord. How can such a brutal cynicism be placed upon Apples 🍎. How can humanity ,in its search for elevated ideals ,hold restrictive orders over apples and also simultaneously, manger upon it as the last hope towards survival before calling in a doctor. I mean what kind of antithetical paradox could it be when apples 🍎 are seen as doubly pleasing in this either/or “never to be taken or eaten,” ways. Tell me, why was this unusual magnificence imposed upon Apples 🍎 in order to produce such an internal elevation of mind and touted human virtues . I am astonished 😯 especially when Apple’s solemness was casted away much as much it shows it’s proclivity in seizing diseases, delineated as in the following proverb : “an Apple 🍎 a day keeps the doctor away. “ Far more than anything, some objectified words ( such as Apples 🍎) can create a sense of “paradise lost,” effect. Think 💭 about it?! And , then again, going forward with other fruit comparisons , Apples could be facing a “step-sisterly” steerage while being gauged against , let’s say, a bunch of grapes 🍇. Principally, that synthesis could bring in a vast vague order by pressing discriminatory charges against mankind for making Apples 🍎 appear more impure than it’s compatriot kin —the grape🍇. So words and objects when left unhinged upon earthly can have a disastrous effect. Isn’t that a dangerous provocation in itself. To that point, an understanding would place a greater honor, than any ardent speech made out in the open —like this. None the less, some words can confer specific intents —more so, when delivered (in time,) to meet, all the sensory modalities in the context. And then , for a formulation to make an unguent speech effect, the mind may ,at times, relinquish the beseeching cogito’s scripted concept. In doing so, the intellect impedes”will,” to catch up with all matters, bringing wherewithal skill to it’s perfection’s best. In Expression! Yeah! It’s then and there, the right flow of rhetoric comes in alive ,as in, a fresh breath of air. 😊 Signing off with Free Speech while keeping an eye 👁️ over “misplaced —word-objects,” which may be at the brink of making perspicacious mistakes. —💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫 Jan 31st, 2024 ✍️ © Madhu Goteti
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Fiction
"THE LETTER FROM THE BEYOND". Content Warning.
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real people is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas and their granddaughters. Peace to all. To all my relations.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Fiction
Call of the Void. Content Warning.
Jump … Go on, do it … Go on, go on, go on … Where do these thoughts come from? Standing at the top of a tall ledge, looking over the jagged cliff face down to the crashing waves below. Leaning over the safety rails on a skyscraper as the high winds whip and flail your hair, the people and cars below seem so tiny, so insignificant.
By Savannah K. Wilson2 years ago in Fiction
Talking Flowers
In a secluded greenhouse, long forgotten by caretakers, a unique phenomenon unfolded. The flowers within began to stir, their petals whispering secrets only the wind had heard before. As their voices mingled, an array of emotions emerged—joyful marigolds, gloomy roses, and curious daisies.
By Austin J. Knox2 years ago in Fiction
Rendezvous' With a Cave Bear
One moves patient, unrushed in thick snow. Crusted in some places where the sun had a chance to glaze the surface. Enough so as to make walking almost burdensome. The sunshine I spent hunting my trapline past the oaks. No sign of game. The three trap line bunnies in my stuff sack were my first concern when I came across the rather large looking cat tracks traveling ahead of me up the path I was on.
By Erik ubbink2 years ago in Fiction
