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Aspects of Writing

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3rd Person

She was a spectator, an observer. The pendant shined like so many glittering, twinkling stars. It was for sale at an exuberant price and she didn't have the money for something that grand. She admired its shimmering beauty, the way the deep green pulled her in, captured her completely.

Without thought, without reason, she acted.

She stole it.

XxX


2nd Person

You are a spectator, an observer. The pendant shines like so many glittering, twinkling stars. It is for sale at an exuberant price and you don't have the money for something this grand. You admire its shimmering beauty, the way the deep green pulls you in, captures you completely.

Without thought, without reason, you act.

You steal it.

XxX


1st Person

I was merely a spectator, an observer. The pendant shined like so many glittering, twinkling stars. It was for sale at an exuberant price and I didn't have the money for something that grand. I admired it for its shimmering beauty, the way the deep green pulled me in, captured me completely.

Without thought, without reason, I acted.

I stole it.

Chapter Text

He owed them absolutely nothing, but he couldn't just depend on a microscopic hope that some omnipotent force would help.

Except for a few instances, he'd been treated with suspicion and hate. Those rare occasions, however, were vivid in his mind, and they gently urged him to act on their planet's behalf. They urged him to fight against his own king and to kill him.

Jairus was at a stalemate with himself until the first horrified scream. It took him less than a second to choose the people of Earth over his king.

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The swaying was evidence of a ship out at sea. Ian had been mistaken for a barrel of supplies and taken aboard a ship. He pushed the top of the barrel off, poked his head out. He was below deck and the exit was blocked by a pirate who'd come to inspect the goods.

There was a cry, a cacophony in Ian's ears as he was transferred onto the deck. A beautiful green-eyed girl was captain and she ordered her men to throw him overboard. The crew backed Ian onto the plank, to the very edge, and he wavered dangerously. Seconds before he'd've fallen, the girl called a halt, beckoned Ian close.

“If I let you live, you'll work for me.”

He'd never felt such relief, and he smiled because of it. Ian agreed without hesitation, thinking the captain wasn't as bad as she acted.

Chapter Text

"We should review," Jairus murmured through his telepathic bond with his other half.

"Aww, why?" the little dragon whined. "We just got here, so we should take some time to relax!"

"Because," Jairus stressed the word lightly, "his Majesty is here. We have to kill him, Arya. We're just specks on his radar. He won't notice our movements."

"B-But. . . . It's so pretty here! I just wanna fly around and explore!"

"No. We have work to do. Let's go."

Chapter Text

Legend tells of treasure in the forest's center, and many have attempted to claim it. Thick vines hang from branches, swaying like thorny pendulums, and they work with the plants, trees, and flowers to halt trespassers. The sun is mostly blocked by tall trees and thorns on many of the flowers are tipped with poison.

He steps over a log and bypasses a vividly blue flower without touching it. Dehydration's set in and he's hallucinating that vines're wrapped around his neck. As thorns prick his skin he thinks that he'll rest for a few minutes before moving on.

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He collapsed to the ground screaming as the fire engulfed him, and he was sure that not even Lucifer's flames could be as scalding. The vivid colors of the flowers around him blurred and faded as his vision dimmed, and the pungent smell of his own flesh burning surrounded him. A sour, acidic taste filled his mouth and he gagged before falling still, the fire reducing his body to ash.

Death regurgitated him, the ash rose to form a new man, and the cycle of death and rebirth began anew.

Chapter Text

Bullets whiz by your head and you relocate in an attempt to escape. You run into the crowd to try and lose yourself in the population but a hand shoots out and grabs your arm.

Long, sharp nails puncture your skin and your reaction is to jerk back. With your free hand you grab your own gun and fire directly at what holds you. The grip loosens, you tear free, and the bullets sound closer than ever as you finally disappear into the crowd.

Chapter Text

He looks at the novel and ponders picking it up. He doesn't and instead relocates to the doorway of the living room. He couldn't've picked it up anyway. He passes through the open doorway and rounds the corner at a rapid pace.

The next room along the wall is open and he enters the bathroom. He hesitates, rubs his palms on his pants, then finally looks at the mirror. His eyes widen and he screams, collapsing against the wall behind him.

Such a paradox, he thinks, that a ghost should have phasmophobia.

Chapter Text

He had a reputation for being a neat-freak, and although he'd never verbally verified it, he knew it was true.

He'd make routine sweeps through his dormitory and cleaned almost everything to perfection. However, he'd never once even opened the closet. He knew his claustrophobia would kick in.

Finally, after days of thinking on it, he threw the closet door open and shoved some shirts to the side. It wasn't until he stepped inside that he realized its sheer size, that it was so large inside that it looked like it could lead to a different world.

Chapter Text

The return of the rose ejected the people from their period of peace and transitioned them into paranoia. People stopped going outside for fear of finding a rose on their doorstep.

One who didn't know about the rose's reputation left home and went about his day normally. He found a rose on his doorstep when he returned. The very next day he met a beautiful woman and he let her into his life, his home.

His corpse was found in his living room and the woman had vanished.

The sacrifice had been made and peace returned again.

Chapter Text

Dejected, the boy stared at the list in his hands and pondered throwing a tantrum. His meeting with his doctor punctuated his thoughts again.

XxX

"I believe this'll benefit you," his doctor proclaimed confidently, "You'll encounter them all your life, after all."

The boy looked at the doctor pleadingly and wished he'd never even brought the fear up. Everything had completely backfired and he fidgeted anxiously.

"Joining the Spell Bowl team can only help. We've confirmed you have hippopotomonstrosequipedaliophobia--" the boy flinched and whimpered "--the fear of long words, and some exposure'll be good for you."

Chapter Text

It was a pity, Louis concluded, that everything ended the way it had. Blood spread from the corpse and Louis giggled euphorically. Killing him had been easier than he'd anticipated.

"Mon ami, your first mistake was asking about that cop. The second was when you threatened to expose me," Louis wiped his bloodied prosthetic left hand over his vest.

His giggles turned to laughter.

"Back home they said I was sick, that I should be locked up with the other crazies," Louis paused. "It's all your fault the game ended so early! You were such a good, naive, oblivious puppet!"

Chapter Text

Do you know how disreputable immortality actually is? It's not all it's cracked up to be, believe me. Sure it's fun at first, being able to do everything you ever wanted, but when you accomplish those, it just gets boring.

I observe you mortals like test subjects and watch as you go about your meaningless lives. Some of you come up with novel ideas and strive to be remembered for them. You all move about cluelessly, stupidly, and wish for what I have, although I know you'd never be able to handle it.