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EDylan
A little madness can go a long way.
27 Posts • 30 Followers • 20 Following
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Challenge
Pen to the Paper 26
Season Three of Pen to the Paper is coming in full swing! Write a story, poem, stream of conscious... anything under the sun! No restrictions. The challenge? Oh, yeah, there is a restriction. You have to write it without planning. I know. It's horrifying. Looking forward to seeing what you guys write! There are no draft restrictions.
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EDylan
• 7 reads

Stranded

I allow the thought to pull me in once more,

how gentle your touch once seemed.

How little I knew of myself back then,

trapped in a place, where time refused to move.

We had built our home on hollow ground

praying for the earth not to shake,

as I carried our love blindly, in both hands,

with the notion that my will was enough.

Still the tighter I held, the more that I lost.

Now here we stand, how many miles apart,

stranded in the aftermath of ignorance,

watching every promise unravel at our feet.

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Challenge
Spelling Test
Use these 21 words from a grade three spelling test to help you create a piece of prose or a poem. No word limit but please capitalize the words the first time you use them in your piece. pilot, write, inch, reply, lines, bigger, brick, river, given, silent, fine, whisper, rhyme, iron, height, grade, safety, they, multiply, and divide
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EDylan
• 20 reads

The Bottom

I often find myself looking back on brighter days,

eyes wide awake, dreaming of life on the water.

In school, I'd Write stories of being a River Pilot,

as if in a trance, oblivious to any Grade Given.

At first, words would only Whisper onto the page,

then I watched as those letters began to Multiply,

Inch by inch, the Lines taught my mind to expand.

It grew Bigger, until a false sense of freedom was born,

leaving me with a need to fulfill that urge to escape.

The greater the Height, the farther I would fall.

It wasn't long before the bottom was all I knew.

At night I cradled memories of a wasted youth,

Turned to God in search of answers with no Reply.

My voice remains lost, hidden behind Iron gates.

Funny how fine, how lovely life had once been.

The visits had stopped and they wrote only to say,

They feared for my Safety but mostly my sanity.

Now I listened as the air hung Silent, like a noose,

while I became desperate to Divide each sound,

that sweet childhood Rhyme, now a banshee wail,

that weaved in and out of every Brick, as my hands

stretched themselves over the cracks in the wall,

knowing that one of them must lead to salvation.

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Challenge
Heat
Anything about temperature or spice, naughty or nice. Prose or poem I'll read them all and choose the winner from those who call.
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EDylan
• 29 reads

Grief

The sun spoke

soft lies in the morning

as I lifted my head

to revisit a world,

whose ashes

would be scattered,

hollow and lonely,

clinging for breathe

in the desperate

summer air.

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Challenge
Who are U?
Who are U? - its up to you how much you share- any format- tag me so I can read your post
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EDylan
• 20 reads

Apologies

The wrong one. That’s what I have always been. There isn’t a safe space to explain all the pain that I’ve caused. The autism spectrum is not made for people like me, even though it should be. I am also a pretty girl, with pretty girl problems. We aren’t always expected to talk so much, or think so much. The adhd part of me doesn’t know what to do with that. I’ve broken a lot of men. Not on purpose. This is not written for sympathy of any kind. I wouldn’t know what to do with that. I am perfectly fine with who I am. Mostly because it has taken every ounce of energy to push that person forward. I no longer apologize for her. You either accept me or you don’t. I could care less. I could also care more. I don’t have the attention span to hold on to other people’s thoughts. I’m working on building a filter. It has yet to arrive. All I can say is this is the best version of me. And I am happy I took the time to make her come alive again.

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Challenge
Define yourself in a word.
Select a word that defines you. Write why you selected that word in about 20 - 250 words. Do mention me in the comments.
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EDylan
• 28 reads

Paradox

A paradox,

a traveling why,

Where do we go

from here?

If only I knew,

if only I was,

a little more clear

the others seem

a watch and stare

confusion of looks

too afraid to ask

What have I done?

Will I come back?

If only I knew

a hows and when

that who and why

a paradox

a traveling mind

no one knows,

it’s only half of me.

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Challenge
What major issues do young women face today?
I am mainly seeking opinion pieces however if you do wish to cite anything please ensure that you provide a citation of any kind at the end of the piece.
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EDylan in Journal
• 111 reads

Please. Don’t.

What issues do young women face? What a strange question. Why even bother with that question? I carry keys in between my fingers at night. I know where all the exits are. I am aware of other women’s body language when men are approaching. I take the time to realize the ratio of men to women in a bar as soon as I walk in. I don’t think about these things, I just do them because they are ingrained. Because I have been approached too many times, touched too many times, and talked to in ways that are so disrespectful those men have been thrown out without me saying a word. So what issues do young women face? Well let me count the ways. And how about I let you do the research. Maybe talk to the women in your life. Ask for stories. Ask about encounters. Ask about how they stay on the phone as they walk home at night just to feel safer. I would not want to give my answer because my story is very dark. I will say if you are concerned, as in you want to make a difference, do the work. Do the research. Get involved. Do not come to me. Because I have no patience left for these kinds of questions.

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Challenge
First bad memory
What is the first bad memory you can think of? The earliest memory in your life that you can recall that you think of as bad or unpleasant. Anything goes, just please tag me in your entry!
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EDylan
• 44 reads

Our Secret Language

We had once again found ourselves,

tightly wound and tight lipped,

tucking secrets in at night

Like we used to do as children.

We could see it in his eyes

when the mood had struck.

That ever glaring, empty bottle,

explosive kind of mood.

We learned to communicate

with nothing but our eyes.

A secret sister language,

as words were not always safe

or welcome within these walls.

Walls that pulsated with fear

as he approached with his fist.

We would escape in and out

through windows, locked shut,

leaving behind traces of blood.

We would wait for the sun to rise,

or some nights for the rain to stop,

letting us know the coast was clear.

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Challenge
Write a poem or a piece of short prose using the words steel, steam, and stars.
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EDylan
• 30 reads

Tipsy at Midnight

How we muddle through

listless as the stars,

who shine out of obligation

with no purpose, no meaning.

Underneath the answers

I found only more questions.

Staring at a sky that gleamed

as stale as steel, or maybe,

that was just the mood,

a taste that lingered.

Heavy thoughts poured over,

as I pushed my way home

passing over steam grates,

taking notice of each fallen brick

the laziness of city streets

on quiet, nothing, nights like these.

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Challenge
Birds Birds Birds
My favorite bird is the red-winged blackbird. It has these intense, daring red flashes on its wings and they are just so lovely and remind me of all the pleasant bits of my childhood. Birds in general are amazing and although I am jaded about many things I can still appreciate the simple beauty of a bird in rest or flight. I would love to read your bird poems, your bird dreams, your bird horror stories, whatever you got for me. Anything goes as long as you meet that minimum limit of 15 words. Oh, and please tag me!
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EDylan
• 29 reads

Mourning Dove

Starstruck, stuck, stolen hearts

intertwined, like doves in daylight

making love look easy,

caught in the breeze of it all.

Following like fools,

as one leads the other.

Too much, too soon,

yet I can still hear them,

soft songs in the distance,

the trappings of courtship.

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Challenge
What has reading taught you about navigating the world? What is one story that has most impacted your worldview or way you move through life?
Bestselling author George Saunders will read and critique 25 pages of his favorite entrant's work, which will also be promoted on Random House's social media and newsletter.
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EDylan
• 72 reads

The Art of Drowning

It wasn’t long into the first grade that I had read every book in the classroom. Which I remember because the only choice left was a book of facts on spiders. To my surprise, they turned out to be fascinating creatures. Soon thereafter books became an escape. We didn’t have a lot of children’s literature at home, now that I think about it. Although, now that I think about it my mother never really regarded us as children. However, we were always surrounded with poetry. As a girl, I would scatter her books around the floor. Clearly too young to have any idea what it all meant, yet eager to absorb every word. Poetry held a rhythm that kept me calm. Helped me forget. The childhood that never was. The anger that lived just beneath the surface.

I was probably nine when I picked up Jane Eyre because it was my mother's favorite. Determined and stubborn I managed to finish it. A part of me felt that by the end I would understand her better. Understand why she stayed in bed all day. While it didn't give me the insight I was looking for it gave me something else. A closer look at who I was, who I wanted to be. Someone with the ability to create worlds you could get lost in at a moments notice.

From that day on I read everything put in front of me. I couldn't have been older then ten when I finished Valley of the Dolls. Books became more then an escape, they became a glimpse into lives I was desperate to reach. The words became my guides. My lighthouse if you will, calling me home.They took a girl who came from nothing and transported her to anywhere else. A reminder that the dark places in my mind were not something to be feared, but something to be embraced. Trauma did not have to equal shame. When put it into words that pain could become a source of power.

Writing became a sense of freedom that I had never known. It may sound silly or cliche but I believe it saved me from myself. It opened a door I never knew existed. The further I went into my mind the lighter I felt. Like a weight had been removed. As I grew older, I began to allow men into my life who attempted to drown out my voice, replace my thoughts with their own, and stake their claim on who I was. Too afraid to speak up I put my feelings on paper. The words rushed to the surface. As if I had been drowning and finally found air. Able to breathe again I came to understand why they were so afraid. Over time a clarity and peace resided inside of me. That is when I made a promise to myself, to never be silenced again.

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