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Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fireside
« Last post by Tomc on January 26, 2020, 12:14:41 AM »
On a warm summers night down by the beach with sweat, sand and beer all mixed together, listening the the rhythmic pulsing of the waves crashing on the shore relentlessly like soldiers marching forward on the front-line. Crackling in the background is our little artificial sun for the night. The sound of snapping sticks and flickering flames is hypnotic, and the longer I stare at the fire the deeper I swim into its seductive trance. The smell of bunt ceder fills the air as the fire consumes
its fuel, letting off smoke as to say thank you for feeding it. We watch as the sun swims down and hides behind the horizon to rest before brightening up our day tomorrow-almost like an extended game of hide and sleek. my body seems to vibrate from the inside with a sense of awe and magic as I realise how small we are in this vast cosmos, less then a grain of sand on the entire earth.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fireside
« Last post by berkley84 on January 25, 2020, 04:07:41 PM »
   Your mom won’t turn the heat up, even though it’s hovering around zero degrees outside. I can see my breath when I wake up. My instinct is to cover myself up with a blanket and curl up in an armchair with a book. When you wake up, the first thing you do is turn the fire on. You stand in front of it, letting your butt warm up for a few minutes. You let out a sigh of relief. “So good,” you drawl, with all the pleasure of a decent back massage.
   Here we are, another holiday, looking out at the mountain snow falling on the pines that line the street. It is oh so quiet and peaceful as the Sun rises and tourist cross country skiers glide by. The dog’s footsteps are heavy and loud on the wooden staircase leading up from the basement. She trots into the room with a tail wagging rapidly and shoving her snoot into whosever legs she finds first. She is so soft and sweet. I feel so much love whenever I see her. She’s excited for a few minutes, then all that energy ceases to be. She finds a nice blanket right next to the fireplace and rolls her big body up in it for a nice winter’s nap.
   Soon your mom is up and brewing her cheap crappy coffee that she dilutes with French Vanilla creamer and a row of flavor syrups that she must have got cheap at a garage sale. Now her dogs are up and scurrying around the house and our dog needs to wake up and see what all the excitement is about. I’m doing my best to ignore the fiasco and focus entirely on the comic book in my hands. But soon there are too many voices and barks and CNN on the TV, and I give up and watch some rich and attractive person report urgently on stories that nobody really needs to feel upset about. The fire rages on.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Re: Orb
« Last post by ladybegood on January 25, 2020, 01:11:52 PM »
Wow this is excellent!! Thanks for sharing it!
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Fireside
« Last post by ladybegood on January 25, 2020, 01:10:06 PM »
I walked into a living room that was once my own. It was so familiar but completely different. The snow fell silently out the same windows against the same dark sky, one was still drafty sending a stream of cold air into the warm room. We used to keep the 8 foot Christmas tree in the corner, where you had the perfect view to see it and all the presents it sheltered as we ran down the stairs in our footed fleece pajamas on December 25 overwhelmed with joy and excitement. Now there was a tiny table top with someone else's ornaments in front of the window just for show. There was a fire place now. I felt a sense of loneliness as I sat on the gray slab adjacent to the gas burning fire. Sitting fireside, the flames burned against my white sweater but I didn’t move. The pain from the heat was what I needed to distract myself from this twilight zone reality I was witnessing. I swirled the red wine in my glass and gave it a good chug. I never gave a shit about flavors and notes of this or that, I just needed the sweet burn to travel down my throat and into my bloodstream. As I sat and stared at this room in awe of how it changed, pots and pans banged around in the kitchen as Christmas Eve dinner was being prepared. I didn’t ask to help. This Christmas felt anything but merry.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Badge
« Last post by andrewpayne55 on January 25, 2020, 09:44:09 AM »
I wear this badge proudly
To tell the people who I am
That I am proud of all my choices
And how I have grown up as a man.

For you it may seem trivial,
But to me it means a lot.
A reminder of the struggle
To get everything, I have got.

Just two simple digits
That represent my age
But also represent breaking free
From my adolescent cage.

This badge says I AM A SURVIVOR
And I wear it every day
To remind those who are still drowning
That salvation is on its way.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Badge
« Last post by berkley84 on January 25, 2020, 12:22:24 AM »
   My brother bought me a badge after driving through Deadwood on his way out west. All it says is “Sheriff” in gold letters underneath a gold star. A souvenir that could have been bought at a dollar store in the mall 10 minutes from here. But I wear the badge with honor on the first morning of camping. People need to know who’s in charge.
   After all the unpacking is done, it is good to sit on a log around the unlit fire pit. You can hear all the other people all around the woods as they set up camp for the weekend. I hear coolers being dragged down dirt paths, people hooting and hollering, ukuleles already being strummed by shirtless hippies. I feel like my legs are already trying to lift me up and guide me on some journey, but everyone else is just relaxing. A bottle of Southern Comfort is opened and passed around. It is sickeningly sweet, but a good gulp gets me feeling the good vibes. I’m the Sheriff. This is my town. I’ve gotta get out there and take command.
   Now some cupcake flavored vodka is being opened. My knee is shaking. I thought we were going to get back to the stage, listen to the opening bands, do a little dancing or sunbathing or grab a breakfast burrito. Instead, I sip the vodka and feel a little betrayed by their use of the word “cupcake.”
   Now I feel great, other than the disturbing aftertaste in my mouth. Somebody is smoking cherry cloves and it smells sweet mixed with the natural odors of leaves and dirt that surround us. I point to my badge. “The Sheriff has to get into town.” Everyone laughs and now we’re all opening PBRs. It’s gonna be a long weekend. It’s gonna be a great time. It always is.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Badge
« Last post by venice on January 24, 2020, 11:53:17 AM »
i am a football player (soccer for the ones in US lol). it is a big game, Liverpool vs Tottenham for the champions league final, these two teams have long rivalry and i am here representing Liverpool and everything this club and badge means to the fans. So i prepare myself weeks before the big game. The big game arrives, my heart is pounding and emotions are running around like headless chicken, my manager gives a big talk minutes before the game, he speaks with a big and loud tone to make sure we hear his message clear as day, but his face and body expressions seem very cool, i resonated to it and i think my team mates did too. Talks over time to go out and play, on 3 we scream Liverpool and walk out to the field, those 5 second walking from the tunnel out to the pitch were breath taking, felt like life paused for a good minute, the darkness, but very loud atmosphere were very contrasting feelings, there was too much going on at once and i had to grab the moment by the scruff of the neck, my mouth dont even taste the same, dry and itchy, i spat i few times and drank some water, kiss my badge as i step foot onto the soft emerald green grass and sing the champions league anthem. Shake the oppositions hand before the whistle blows and i smell their fear too. giving me the confidence to go and do my best for the badge.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Badge
« Last post by John Cooper on January 24, 2020, 09:19:16 AM »
It’s my birthday.. I woke early, threw off the covers and ran downstairs... Its freezing, I turn the knob on the gas fire and strike the ignition with three loud brass bangs before the flames rush across the ceramics like front row wannabe’s at the opening of a Bieber concert. I hug my knees on the rug, dad brings me toast with marmalade. I can hear my sisters getting up. I have to wait before I open any presents. I’m bursting.. the only time we ever really received anything other than food was birthdays and Christmas. We were broke, so new clothing and footwear was always reserved for this time. My sisters gather around, sleepy eyed and messy haired, yawning into their cups of milk. They’re smiling, happy for me. I open up the first box, I know what it is, everybody in the family had clubbed together to get me my first pair of Kickers boots.. finally I’d levelled up, no longer would I be seen as a pauper in school. In the 90’s they said a lot about your status, there was something up if you didn’t have a pair. It was only the really poor kids that didn’t have them. Finally, I was no longer an outsider. That day I gathered up my school bag, threw on my boots and wore my birthday badge like a badge of honour.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cinnamon
« Last post by berkley84 on January 24, 2020, 12:27:19 AM »
   I like the cinnamon gum that costs 5 cents at the convenient store on Temple Street. I like the way it burns my mouth at first then settles down to a pure red flavor. It only tastes red because it IS red; the red of the “fruit punch” Gatorade doesn’t taste the same as this red, but still somehow “tastes red.” I’m young and confused, but also I don’t care, because I’m basically gnawing at candy and nobody can stop me.
   Outside I look towards Main Street, where the Farm Festival goes on in August. It’s an event I always look forward to for one reason: the Doughboys. Other people call them Elephant Ears or Fried Dough, but here they’ve always been Doughboys. I can taste the greasy sugary goodness right now. They make them so big! They’re about twice the size of my stomach and I could eat about four of them. How does that math work? I told you, I’m young and confused, but also I don’t care.
   I like the Festival because there are all sorts of tents set up with sad old country folks selling “goods” that are not actually “good” at all. Still, everything is colorful and alive and it draws people to this lovely downtown park that no one spends time in at any other part of the year. I also enjoy the dog show, when I bring my little cockerspaniel Tony and pretend that he listens to me and can do tricks. The only real trick he does is whenever I get remotely close to him, he just growls and bares his teeth at me. Okay, Tony, I get it, you don’t want to show off in front of a crowd. At least there’s another part of the show where the little little kids can just show off their stuffed animals. I milk that as far as it will take me, until the judges are frowning at the 13 year old still dragging a stuffed bunny around.
   I love my hometown. The pizza places, the gazebos, the “busy” Main Street. The bars that I only know from the outside, the shops that don’t sell anything of interest, the restaurants owned by my friends where I often eat for free without consent. It’s my cinnamon history.
Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cinnamon
« Last post by r4z3o on January 24, 2020, 12:10:08 AM »
First Christmas away from my family. Squared table, wrapped with a plastic cover to avoid a mess, loud speech voices around the room, cutlery moving around plates and I am staring at everything we have available to eat, the smell of the turkey, the soft escondidinho melted away as I try to grab a piece, my legs feel the weight I am carrying on my brain.

I am glad I am wearing my Christmas mask, my heart pumps harder as they smile back while eating my mom’s recipe for cinnamon bread. Are those Christmas masks too?
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