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Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by writerjess in portal Fiction

The Curse of Intelligence

You'd think it would be fun, wouldn't you? Waking up one day and realizing that not a single person in the whole world is as smart as you are. But it's not. It's not fun because it's not for the day, or the week, it's forever. And forever I will have to live with this power, this burden that I never wanted. That I never asked for. 

And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm selfish, that how could I ever possibly see this blessing as a curse. And trust me, I would've thought the same thing if it had been just ten hours ago. But this isn't ten hours ago, this is now. And now I've been faced with something I would have never expected. 

I've been faced with a power. And I don't deserve it.

Someone else should have woken up today and discovered that they were the smartest person in the world because I don't deserve it. A person who knows, not everything, but more than any other human in the world has a duty, a power, a voice. And with this voice, this person should be changing the world. Finding cures, eradicating crises, making outer-space discoveries, and educating others to create a better future generation. I know this, and yet I can't do it. 

Just because I'm smart now, doesn't mean I'm good. Just because I'm smart now doesn't mean I have the answers to the questions that actually matter. Just because I'm smart now doesn't mean I want to do anything. 

If this gift was miraculously given to me out of all the seven billion, four hundred and eighty-six million, five hundred and thirty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety and counting people in the world then please, please it needs to go to someone else. I didn't even search up that number, it just came to my brain when I needed it to and that should not be happening.

I don't want to save the world. I don't want to look at the people around me and see every little detail in their personal life. I don't want to be overwhelmed with the endless information every time I look anywhere or at anything. I do it and I can't breathe because I can't shut it down, the numbers and facts, they just keep coming and coming and it's making my head hurt and my brain hurt and I know this is a run-on sentence and now it's bugging me and I don't want it to bug me and yesterday it would have been so useful to know on my essay but I didn't know it yesterday, I know it today and I hate it I hate it I hate it. 

And school, I can't go back to school where I know everything I could possibly be taught and I notice every mistake a teacher makes. I won't be able to talk to my friends anymore because I'll just always be, not one, but one hundred steps ahead. I'll hate them for the ignorance that isn't their fault, and they'll hate me for the knowledge that isn't mine. 

I never understood the saying "ignorance is bliss" but now I can't stop thinking about it. Oh, what I would give to live in complete ignorance, in complete bliss, never realizing my thoughts weren't my own and my perceptions were all twisted. I want to watch useless TV shows until it fries my brain, I want to live young and have no worries, I want to be reckless and laugh about it the next day, I want to feel the satisfaction of solving a problem I had wracked my brain on. 

Life is meaningless if there is not more opportunity to be challenged.

In a world that is a chess game, my only path is the path to victory, but I don't want the game to end.

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Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by writerjess in portal Fiction
The Curse of Intelligence
You'd think it would be fun, wouldn't you? Waking up one day and realizing that not a single person in the whole world is as smart as you are. But it's not. It's not fun because it's not for the day, or the week, it's forever. And forever I will have to live with this power, this burden that I never wanted. That I never asked for. 

And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm selfish, that how could I ever possibly see this blessing as a curse. And trust me, I would've thought the same thing if it had been just ten hours ago. But this isn't ten hours ago, this is now. And now I've been faced with something I would have never expected. 

I've been faced with a power. And I don't deserve it.

Someone else should have woken up today and discovered that they were the smartest person in the world because I don't deserve it. A person who knows, not everything, but more than any other human in the world has a duty, a power, a voice. And with this voice, this person should be changing the world. Finding cures, eradicating crises, making outer-space discoveries, and educating others to create a better future generation. I know this, and yet I can't do it. 

Just because I'm smart now, doesn't mean I'm good. Just because I'm smart now doesn't mean I have the answers to the questions that actually matter. Just because I'm smart now doesn't mean I want to do anything. 

If this gift was miraculously given to me out of all the seven billion, four hundred and eighty-six million, five hundred and thirty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety and counting people in the world then please, please it needs to go to someone else. I didn't even search up that number, it just came to my brain when I needed it to and that should not be happening.

I don't want to save the world. I don't want to look at the people around me and see every little detail in their personal life. I don't want to be overwhelmed with the endless information every time I look anywhere or at anything. I do it and I can't breathe because I can't shut it down, the numbers and facts, they just keep coming and coming and it's making my head hurt and my brain hurt and I know this is a run-on sentence and now it's bugging me and I don't want it to bug me and yesterday it would have been so useful to know on my essay but I didn't know it yesterday, I know it today and I hate it I hate it I hate it. 

And school, I can't go back to school where I know everything I could possibly be taught and I notice every mistake a teacher makes. I won't be able to talk to my friends anymore because I'll just always be, not one, but one hundred steps ahead. I'll hate them for the ignorance that isn't their fault, and they'll hate me for the knowledge that isn't mine. 

I never understood the saying "ignorance is bliss" but now I can't stop thinking about it. Oh, what I would give to live in complete ignorance, in complete bliss, never realizing my thoughts weren't my own and my perceptions were all twisted. I want to watch useless TV shows until it fries my brain, I want to live young and have no worries, I want to be reckless and laugh about it the next day, I want to feel the satisfaction of solving a problem I had wracked my brain on. 

Life is meaningless if there is not more opportunity to be challenged.

In a world that is a chess game, my only path is the path to victory, but I don't want the game to end.
#fiction  #philosophy  #prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Dillonius

Great Deception

Some think this is real life, but it's a great deception.

Some people don't realize, cuz they don't pay attention.

The system is twisted full of lies & wicked. 

I'm getting so sickened by what I have witnessed.

The injustice is nonsense.

It's instructed by conmen.

Don't play the victim, create resistance.

Go break the system, & make a difference.

Ask people in society, where's the peace men? & where's the love?.

Some people live so silently, scared to speak in America.

Here in the home of the greedy, full of Emojis & tweeting.

My hope is slowly depleting, & I wish no one could see me.

I wish I could just leave Earth in an upward direction.

I wish I would just emerge in another dimension.

Cuz life in this world is full of depression, & it's full of aggression.

Full of guys & girls with foolish intentions, you can't fool God in Heaven.

Love life & laugh you'll be alright, just pray & ask for peace all night.

I know I am no Jesus Christ, I'm just a man who sees the light.

We're all people be peaceful cuz we're equals with free souls.

Don't call C-notes the king go defeat evil & be bold.

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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Dillonius
Great Deception
Some think this is real life, but it's a great deception.
Some people don't realize, cuz they don't pay attention.

The system is twisted full of lies & wicked. 
I'm getting so sickened by what I have witnessed.

The injustice is nonsense.
It's instructed by conmen.

Don't play the victim, create resistance.
Go break the system, & make a difference.

Ask people in society, where's the peace men? & where's the love?.
Some people live so silently, scared to speak in America.

Here in the home of the greedy, full of Emojis & tweeting.
My hope is slowly depleting, & I wish no one could see me.

I wish I could just leave Earth in an upward direction.
I wish I would just emerge in another dimension.

Cuz life in this world is full of depression, & it's full of aggression.
Full of guys & girls with foolish intentions, you can't fool God in Heaven.

Love life & laugh you'll be alright, just pray & ask for peace all night.
I know I am no Jesus Christ, I'm just a man who sees the light.

We're all people be peaceful cuz we're equals with free souls.
Don't call C-notes the king go defeat evil & be bold.
#poetry  #prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit  #GreatDeception 
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Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by kayseemarie in portal Fiction

This pulsing inside my head. Why wont it go away? I feel like I never sleep. How could I sleep when my brain refuses to shut off? You could be the smartest person on earth but there is always more to learn. My dreams they are vivid. My dreams they are substantial. But my dreams make me feel like I never sleep. I feel like 100% of my brain is being used and it just never quits. I can tell you the whole English line of session. I can tell you any line of session in history. Anything you find in a book I probably know the answer. But what happens when you die? Knowing everything just frightens you even more. As human sapiens we thirst for knowledge. But what happens when you are knowledge? It's like Adam and Eve when they took a bite of the forbidden fruit. It was like a drug the way life appeared. It was magical, beautiful but deadly. How can I make friends when I will always know more than them? Will I become a lab rat? What else can I learn? I feel like I'm on a roller coaster my mind is going too fast to keep up. My diaphragm contracts and moves downward. My lungs expand. Knowing how exactly you breathe and how exactly your heart pumps blood almost makes you want to control it. Ever heard about the fact that if you think about something to much it can take away from it naturally happening. I feel like my breathing is constricting. What if I forget to inhale? What if the right side of my cardiac muscle forgets to pumps blood to the lungs to pick up oxygen. My brain can not possibly do all these things at once. I know the answer to world peace. I could tell everyone but history proves that someone out there will ruin it. It is human nature to be selfish. Knowledge can not defy human emotions. Knowledge can not overcome sin just as it can not overcome love. "Sæpe ingenia calamitate intercidunt". When did I read the book The Phædrus by Plato? How do I even know who that is? When did I learn Latin? What should I do today? Should I reveal the cure for cancer? 8.8 million people died from cancer alone in 2015. But 15 million people die from heart disease and strokes annually. How do I chose? What if no one believes me? What if the government tries to stop me? Curing diseases is not good for medical care revenue. Oh I can not handle this. 

I just want to sleep.

I just want to sleep.

Maybe I will just write everything down. Everything down on paper but I do not have paper, but i have walls! My body can not physically handle this stress. It wont be able to withstand this stress much longer. My brain is probably too fast to communicate in an understandable way anyways. I will just write, write until I die. Maybe it will keep me sane. Maybe it will stop me from thinking about the inevitable aneurysm that is going to happen with in the walls of my skull. The sad thing is if I knew the exact moment my brain would bleed out I would be able to tell someone how to save me. But do I really want to live with overwhelming knowledge? Do I really want to think anymore. 

No no no 

I will just let it happen. I will just write till it happens. 

Just write Just write

It may be chaotic hopefully the world doesn't assume it was written by a mental patient and throw away all the knowledge I am gifting them with...

My hands are shaking. I can feel the germs and diseases lurking around the room.

I know all about the radiation that is sent through our air. I must throw out all electronics before I write. 

No no no

Stay on track stay on track

Why does my my brain have to go so fast?

I just want this to end

I just want this to end

Write Write Write 

Write it all down

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Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by kayseemarie in portal Fiction
This pulsing inside my head. Why wont it go away? I feel like I never sleep. How could I sleep when my brain refuses to shut off? You could be the smartest person on earth but there is always more to learn. My dreams they are vivid. My dreams they are substantial. But my dreams make me feel like I never sleep. I feel like 100% of my brain is being used and it just never quits. I can tell you the whole English line of session. I can tell you any line of session in history. Anything you find in a book I probably know the answer. But what happens when you die? Knowing everything just frightens you even more. As human sapiens we thirst for knowledge. But what happens when you are knowledge? It's like Adam and Eve when they took a bite of the forbidden fruit. It was like a drug the way life appeared. It was magical, beautiful but deadly. How can I make friends when I will always know more than them? Will I become a lab rat? What else can I learn? I feel like I'm on a roller coaster my mind is going too fast to keep up. My diaphragm contracts and moves downward. My lungs expand. Knowing how exactly you breathe and how exactly your heart pumps blood almost makes you want to control it. Ever heard about the fact that if you think about something to much it can take away from it naturally happening. I feel like my breathing is constricting. What if I forget to inhale? What if the right side of my cardiac muscle forgets to pumps blood to the lungs to pick up oxygen. My brain can not possibly do all these things at once. I know the answer to world peace. I could tell everyone but history proves that someone out there will ruin it. It is human nature to be selfish. Knowledge can not defy human emotions. Knowledge can not overcome sin just as it can not overcome love. "Sæpe ingenia calamitate intercidunt". When did I read the book The Phædrus by Plato? How do I even know who that is? When did I learn Latin? What should I do today? Should I reveal the cure for cancer? 8.8 million people died from cancer alone in 2015. But 15 million people die from heart disease and strokes annually. How do I chose? What if no one believes me? What if the government tries to stop me? Curing diseases is not good for medical care revenue. Oh I can not handle this. 
I just want to sleep.
I just want to sleep.
Maybe I will just write everything down. Everything down on paper but I do not have paper, but i have walls! My body can not physically handle this stress. It wont be able to withstand this stress much longer. My brain is probably too fast to communicate in an understandable way anyways. I will just write, write until I die. Maybe it will keep me sane. Maybe it will stop me from thinking about the inevitable aneurysm that is going to happen with in the walls of my skull. The sad thing is if I knew the exact moment my brain would bleed out I would be able to tell someone how to save me. But do I really want to live with overwhelming knowledge? Do I really want to think anymore. 
No no no 
I will just let it happen. I will just write till it happens. 
Just write Just write
It may be chaotic hopefully the world doesn't assume it was written by a mental patient and throw away all the knowledge I am gifting them with...
My hands are shaking. I can feel the germs and diseases lurking around the room.
I know all about the radiation that is sent through our air. I must throw out all electronics before I write. 
No no no
Stay on track stay on track
Why does my my brain have to go so fast?
I just want this to end
I just want this to end
Write Write Write 
Write it all down
#prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by kayxx

She Knew Better

The intentional grid like configuration of the streets of Manhattan is referred to as the Commission of 1811. The commissioners revered their design because it combined 'beauty, order, and convenience'. However aesthetically pleasing, the formation has a way of assaulting every New Yorker and wanna-be New Yorker alike. This assault takes place when the never ending streets serve as wind tunnels that violently whip winds through the streets and deliver what feels like literal slaps to the face.

This story happens to be about a particularly slapping wind in September. One that felt less like a slap from a drunk girl at a barcade in Williamsburg, and much more like the lasting sting only your mother's hand could produce.

Like the one I received when I was sixteen, and I told mine that she was weak. Weak for staying with my father when she knew he was sleeping with other women. It wasn't the slap that hurt. It was really just watching the single tear roll down her cheek and hit the linoleum. It crashed to the floor with what I presume to be the same force of a brick hitting concrete after being dropped from the top of the Empire State building. At the time it only hurt because I made her cry, now that slap hurts for a different reason.

It's five years later and I'm standing outside of a bar on Mercer street, with a boy I'm sure I love. He's smoking a cigarette. Malboro Red, actually.

I'm staring down at my boots. They're suede and have a pointed toe. Wearing them makes me feel like I'm cool enough to be standing outside of a bar on Mercer street, with a boy who's smoking a cigarette.

I was so focused on dodging the wind and convincing myself I belonged there, that I didn't hear him the first time he said, "hey look, we aren't exclusive or anything are we? I've been seeing other people."

I looked up, and he blew cigarette smoke into my face. I inhaled it. It felt like my father's mistakes and my mother's devastation crowding back into that pit in my stomach.

On exhale, without a second thought, I shot him a cool girl smile and said, "yea, for sure, me too.".

When I was sixteen it was so easy to see how my mother was wrong and the reasons she was weak. Even still, that night, I knew what I did was necessary. For the men of my commission I needed to make sure that I act orderly and remain convenient, so that I can be beautiful.

But by saying those words I had reduced myself to less than. I melted into those boots. I laid myself flat, preparing myself for the slaps of my future. The slaps from the city I love and all of my sort-of boyfriends to come.  

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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by kayxx
She Knew Better
The intentional grid like configuration of the streets of Manhattan is referred to as the Commission of 1811. The commissioners revered their design because it combined 'beauty, order, and convenience'. However aesthetically pleasing, the formation has a way of assaulting every New Yorker and wanna-be New Yorker alike. This assault takes place when the never ending streets serve as wind tunnels that violently whip winds through the streets and deliver what feels like literal slaps to the face.

This story happens to be about a particularly slapping wind in September. One that felt less like a slap from a drunk girl at a barcade in Williamsburg, and much more like the lasting sting only your mother's hand could produce.

Like the one I received when I was sixteen, and I told mine that she was weak. Weak for staying with my father when she knew he was sleeping with other women. It wasn't the slap that hurt. It was really just watching the single tear roll down her cheek and hit the linoleum. It crashed to the floor with what I presume to be the same force of a brick hitting concrete after being dropped from the top of the Empire State building. At the time it only hurt because I made her cry, now that slap hurts for a different reason.

It's five years later and I'm standing outside of a bar on Mercer street, with a boy I'm sure I love. He's smoking a cigarette. Malboro Red, actually.

I'm staring down at my boots. They're suede and have a pointed toe. Wearing them makes me feel like I'm cool enough to be standing outside of a bar on Mercer street, with a boy who's smoking a cigarette.

I was so focused on dodging the wind and convincing myself I belonged there, that I didn't hear him the first time he said, "hey look, we aren't exclusive or anything are we? I've been seeing other people."

I looked up, and he blew cigarette smoke into my face. I inhaled it. It felt like my father's mistakes and my mother's devastation crowding back into that pit in my stomach.

On exhale, without a second thought, I shot him a cool girl smile and said, "yea, for sure, me too.".

When I was sixteen it was so easy to see how my mother was wrong and the reasons she was weak. Even still, that night, I knew what I did was necessary. For the men of my commission I needed to make sure that I act orderly and remain convenient, so that I can be beautiful.

But by saying those words I had reduced myself to less than. I melted into those boots. I laid myself flat, preparing myself for the slaps of my future. The slaps from the city I love and all of my sort-of boyfriends to come.  
#fiction  #prosechallenge  #Itslit 
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Challenge of the Week #57: you’re god; rewrite the creation story. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by JamesMByers

Propagation

The Origin

1- 1 When it began, the Goddess sang-

Existence made its way.

Explosions carved the universe

As She unfolded clay.

2 The earth held nothing in its form

Aside from empty dark.

The Goddess crafted sod and sea;

Her spirit made its mark.

3 The angels She created next-

Of wing and feral might.

Emblazoned with a fiery core,

An army willed to fight.

4 And then She said, “Come forth, the light!”

She saw that this was good.

Amazed, the ushered breath and beast;

She crafted earth and wood.

5 A separation of the void,

She called them night and day.

A sphere of fire to keep the morn,

A moon where dark would stay.

6 Upon the realm of Midgard’s turf

In waters rushing flow,

The Goddess spoke and ushered fish

Beneath the undertow.

7 Upon the lands, the angels flew

Ensuring life evolved.

The smallest to the greatest spread,

A manifest resolved.

8 The Goddess called her angels back,

Decreeing, “Be it so-

That all I make shall reproduce-

Increasing ebb and flow.”

9 And Midgard teemed with floral growth;

The fauna filled the land.

The angels blessed the beast and bird

As was their first command.

10 Although the world begotten brimmed

In life of every thing,

The Goddess felt an emptiness

Compelling her to sing.

11 A garden formed of lush delight

Encapsulating all

Invoked as She unleashed a song

And wrought mankind in thrall.

12 The major chords she ushered forth

Ensnared the dirt and mud,

And in her image came the first-

A human, flesh and blood.

Lilith and Adam

2- 1 And so it was, creation bloomed-

The Goddess placed her spark

Embedding every living thing

Between the light and dark.

2 Around the garden walked abroad

A woman of the earth.

The Goddess smiled at what she saw,

Creating in her mirth.

3 She called her Lilith, wrath of storm,

The Goddess lullaby.

She raised her up above the beasts;

The angels in the sky.

4 And though all pleasures she partook,

A sorrow swallowed whole.

The Goddess made the woman sleep

To form another soul.

5 The moment She began her song,

A rib from Lilith spurned

Another- man- as Adam came-

And passion in him burned.

6 Now, Lilith did not like the man-

He tried to rule her form.

But she refused his thirsty lust;

No, she would not conform.

The Descent

3- 1 Rejected, he walked through the wood

Until he heard a voice-

“Dear Adam, you have much to learn-

My son, you have a choice.”

2 The dragon, once called Lucifer,

Had fallen from a star.

Enticing Adam with his lies,

He whispered, “There you are!”

3 As Adam stood before the beast,

A newfound feeling swelled.

“What can I do to make her mine?

To make her heart compelled?”

4 “Oh, Adam, you have every right-

Absolve your flesh in her.”

The great deceiver coaxed his prey

And Adam would concur.

5 Unknown to either of the two,

The Goddess crafted more-

She called them dwarves and others elves,

The myths of ancient lore.

6 As it would be, a dwarf about

The garden heard the plan.

He raced to Lilith, full of fear,

And thus betrayed the man.

7 The garden, Eden it was called,

Invited Adam home.

And Lilith waited, open arms;

Beside her stood a gnome.

8 “So, Mother has created more-

And here you wait for me.

I have a tale to share with you-

An act to set you free."

9 Upon these words, the dwarf appeared

And angels flew below

Arresting Adam ere he stood,

For what, he did not know.

10 “What meaning do you have for this!

I am of Goddess craft!”

Ignoring him, they tied him up

And placed him on a raft.

11 As Lilith watched him float away,

She noticed in his grasp

A piece of fruit from off a tree

Secured within a clasp.

12 The crafty dragon then appeared

And freed the man to dine.

“The Tree of Good and Evil- yes!

Behold- it is now mine!”

13 Of all they were allowed to eat,

The fruit from off one tree

The Goddess had forbidden them-

It birthed eternity.

14 As Adam fled atop the beast,

An an angel came to guard

The entrance into Eden’s realm-

A blazing, shining shard.

15 The dwarves and elves rejoiced to see

The man depart their land.

As Lilith utilized her skills,

The Goddess found it grand.

16 A blessing over Eden’s girth,

Reviving all inside

And laugher flourished plant to plane-

A gift she would provide.

Fallen Angels and Adam’s Daughters

4- 1 Outside of Eden, Adam’s lust

Increased as he would find

A race of creatures, humanoid,

In which his loins would grind.

2 The offspring grew in wonderment

And angels fell from grace

The same as Lucifer had been,

Succumbing in that place.

3 As Adam had him many wives,

So, too, the angels took

To bed his daughters, full of sin,

Depicted in this book.

4 Abominations they produced,

The giants and monsters spawned

Devoured the outer world around

As evil newly dawned.

5 And still they could not enter in

The gates of Eden’s port.

The Goddess kept her promises

And Lilith ruled her court.

6 The angels, each a different brand-

A lion, and eagle, and

A bull defended Lilith’s woods-

And kept filth from her land.

7 For Adam daily tried his best

To take back all denied.

And yet the Goddess blocked attempts

No matter how he tried.

8 The dwarves and elves and other kind

Among the woodland’s hold

Arose to worship Lilith’s Queen

And forged the Goddess gold.

9 Too closely to the outside world

A few dwarves ventured near.

The monsters sensed the wealth and vowed

To offer hateful fear.

10 Again, day out and in, they tried

But Eden’s troupe prevailed.

It seemed a futile quest, indeed

For every time, they failed.

11 The dragon formed a vengeful plan,

And Adam fell in line.

No matter how they changed the course,

The Goddess proved divine.

12 And I would know, for She is me-

We are one in the same.

The garden holds a hidden myth,

And Lilith is her name …

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Challenge of the Week #57: you’re god; rewrite the creation story. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by JamesMByers
Propagation
The Origin

1- 1 When it began, the Goddess sang-
Existence made its way.
Explosions carved the universe
As She unfolded clay.
2 The earth held nothing in its form
Aside from empty dark.
The Goddess crafted sod and sea;
Her spirit made its mark.
3 The angels She created next-
Of wing and feral might.
Emblazoned with a fiery core,
An army willed to fight.
4 And then She said, “Come forth, the light!”
She saw that this was good.
Amazed, the ushered breath and beast;
She crafted earth and wood.
5 A separation of the void,
She called them night and day.
A sphere of fire to keep the morn,
A moon where dark would stay.
6 Upon the realm of Midgard’s turf
In waters rushing flow,
The Goddess spoke and ushered fish
Beneath the undertow.
7 Upon the lands, the angels flew
Ensuring life evolved.
The smallest to the greatest spread,
A manifest resolved.
8 The Goddess called her angels back,
Decreeing, “Be it so-
That all I make shall reproduce-
Increasing ebb and flow.”
9 And Midgard teemed with floral growth;
The fauna filled the land.
The angels blessed the beast and bird
As was their first command.
10 Although the world begotten brimmed
In life of every thing,
The Goddess felt an emptiness
Compelling her to sing.
11 A garden formed of lush delight
Encapsulating all
Invoked as She unleashed a song
And wrought mankind in thrall.
12 The major chords she ushered forth
Ensnared the dirt and mud,
And in her image came the first-
A human, flesh and blood.

Lilith and Adam

2- 1 And so it was, creation bloomed-
The Goddess placed her spark
Embedding every living thing
Between the light and dark.
2 Around the garden walked abroad
A woman of the earth.
The Goddess smiled at what she saw,
Creating in her mirth.
3 She called her Lilith, wrath of storm,
The Goddess lullaby.
She raised her up above the beasts;
The angels in the sky.
4 And though all pleasures she partook,
A sorrow swallowed whole.
The Goddess made the woman sleep
To form another soul.
5 The moment She began her song,
A rib from Lilith spurned
Another- man- as Adam came-
And passion in him burned.
6 Now, Lilith did not like the man-
He tried to rule her form.
But she refused his thirsty lust;
No, she would not conform.

The Descent

3- 1 Rejected, he walked through the wood
Until he heard a voice-
“Dear Adam, you have much to learn-
My son, you have a choice.”
2 The dragon, once called Lucifer,
Had fallen from a star.
Enticing Adam with his lies,
He whispered, “There you are!”
3 As Adam stood before the beast,
A newfound feeling swelled.
“What can I do to make her mine?
To make her heart compelled?”
4 “Oh, Adam, you have every right-
Absolve your flesh in her.”
The great deceiver coaxed his prey
And Adam would concur.
5 Unknown to either of the two,
The Goddess crafted more-
She called them dwarves and others elves,
The myths of ancient lore.
6 As it would be, a dwarf about
The garden heard the plan.
He raced to Lilith, full of fear,
And thus betrayed the man.
7 The garden, Eden it was called,
Invited Adam home.
And Lilith waited, open arms;
Beside her stood a gnome.
8 “So, Mother has created more-
And here you wait for me.
I have a tale to share with you-
An act to set you free."
9 Upon these words, the dwarf appeared
And angels flew below
Arresting Adam ere he stood,
For what, he did not know.
10 “What meaning do you have for this!
I am of Goddess craft!”
Ignoring him, they tied him up
And placed him on a raft.
11 As Lilith watched him float away,
She noticed in his grasp
A piece of fruit from off a tree
Secured within a clasp.
12 The crafty dragon then appeared
And freed the man to dine.
“The Tree of Good and Evil- yes!
Behold- it is now mine!”
13 Of all they were allowed to eat,
The fruit from off one tree
The Goddess had forbidden them-
It birthed eternity.
14 As Adam fled atop the beast,
An an angel came to guard
The entrance into Eden’s realm-
A blazing, shining shard.
15 The dwarves and elves rejoiced to see
The man depart their land.
As Lilith utilized her skills,
The Goddess found it grand.
16 A blessing over Eden’s girth,
Reviving all inside
And laugher flourished plant to plane-
A gift she would provide.

Fallen Angels and Adam’s Daughters

4- 1 Outside of Eden, Adam’s lust
Increased as he would find
A race of creatures, humanoid,
In which his loins would grind.
2 The offspring grew in wonderment
And angels fell from grace
The same as Lucifer had been,
Succumbing in that place.
3 As Adam had him many wives,
So, too, the angels took
To bed his daughters, full of sin,
Depicted in this book.
4 Abominations they produced,
The giants and monsters spawned
Devoured the outer world around
As evil newly dawned.
5 And still they could not enter in
The gates of Eden’s port.
The Goddess kept her promises
And Lilith ruled her court.
6 The angels, each a different brand-
A lion, and eagle, and
A bull defended Lilith’s woods-
And kept filth from her land.
7 For Adam daily tried his best
To take back all denied.
And yet the Goddess blocked attempts
No matter how he tried.
8 The dwarves and elves and other kind
Among the woodland’s hold
Arose to worship Lilith’s Queen
And forged the Goddess gold.
9 Too closely to the outside world
A few dwarves ventured near.
The monsters sensed the wealth and vowed
To offer hateful fear.
10 Again, day out and in, they tried
But Eden’s troupe prevailed.
It seemed a futile quest, indeed
For every time, they failed.
11 The dragon formed a vengeful plan,
And Adam fell in line.
No matter how they changed the course,
The Goddess proved divine.
12 And I would know, for She is me-
We are one in the same.
The garden holds a hidden myth,
And Lilith is her name …
#fantasy  #poetry  #prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Written by Prose in portal Prose

Prose Challenge of the Week #58

Good Afternoon, Prosers,

We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!

It’s week fifty-eight of the Prose Challenge of the Week.

For the last week, you guys have been rewriting the creation story, and you all gave exactly what we wanted. Before we check out who is the deserving winner and the recipient of $100, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Yes! This one is for a longer duration and for more $, so get yourself writing, now!

Now, back to the winner of week fifty-seven.

We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the “creation story” challenge is @madbeyond with their piece, Out of the Blue

Congratulations! You have just won $100. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.

In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

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Written by Prose in portal Prose
Prose Challenge of the Week #58
Good Afternoon, Prosers,

We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!

It’s week fifty-eight of the Prose Challenge of the Week.

For the last week, you guys have been rewriting the creation story, and you all gave exactly what we wanted. Before we check out who is the deserving winner and the recipient of $100, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Yes! This one is for a longer duration and for more $, so get yourself writing, now!

Now, back to the winner of week fifty-seven.

We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the “creation story” challenge is @madbeyond with their piece, Out of the Blue

Congratulations! You have just won $100. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.

In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.
#prosechallenge  #CotW  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by apromptaday

Lucky

I am lucky. 

I am lucky I am lucky,

Privileged with a life far better than most –

we love you, you ungrateful shit

So really, I can’t complain.

I have a roof over my head,

I have a wardrobe full of expensive clothes.

I have a good resume:

two internships, Dean’s List three years in a row –

Don’t you fucking dare throw your opportunities away

and working experience dealing with children.

I am lucky, I’m in good physical health,

My heart is steady beating,

I rarely get sick,

I can run a mile without breaking a sweat –

I get practice, you see

Running from the drunk monster

I used to call dad –

Just broke six minutes on the track:

Coach thinks I could make it to states.

I have a scholarship lined up,

A school hours and hours away,

I have a black eye today,

I have a new bottle of foundation

sitting on my dresser like an apology,

I have food on my plate

even if I don’t get much of it –

No one likes a fat slob, 

You sure you wanna eat all that  –

And if the celery tastes bitter,

I can hold my tongue.

I have a good life

I have a set curfew,

Just like everyone my age

But I don’t think –

Can’t listen to shit,

Ungratefulfuckinglittlebrat; 

I’ll teach you a lesson,

STOP FUCKING SCREAMING –

Their parents are quite as strict.

When I wake up at a hospital

I have flowers on the window,

Nurses whispering in concern;

Apparently, I was mugged.

They ask me if I’m ok. I’m –

Tired. Scared. Startingtogiveup

Just fine, I say.

I am lucky, after all.

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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by apromptaday
Lucky
I am lucky. 
I am lucky I am lucky,
Privileged with a life far better than most –
we love you, you ungrateful shit
So really, I can’t complain.

I have a roof over my head,
I have a wardrobe full of expensive clothes.
I have a good resume:
two internships, Dean’s List three years in a row –
Don’t you fucking dare throw your opportunities away
and working experience dealing with children.

I am lucky, I’m in good physical health,
My heart is steady beating,
I rarely get sick,
I can run a mile without breaking a sweat –
I get practice, you see
Running from the drunk monster
I used to call dad –
Just broke six minutes on the track:
Coach thinks I could make it to states.

I have a scholarship lined up,
A school hours and hours away,
I have a black eye today,
I have a new bottle of foundation
sitting on my dresser like an apology,
I have food on my plate
even if I don’t get much of it –
No one likes a fat slob, 
You sure you wanna eat all that  –
And if the celery tastes bitter,
I can hold my tongue.

I have a good life
I have a set curfew,
Just like everyone my age
But I don’t think –
Can’t listen to shit,
Ungratefulfuckinglittlebrat; 
I’ll teach you a lesson,
STOP FUCKING SCREAMING –
Their parents are quite as strict.

When I wake up at a hospital
I have flowers on the window,
Nurses whispering in concern;
Apparently, I was mugged.
They ask me if I’m ok. I’m –
Tired. Scared. Startingtogiveup
Just fine, I say.
I am lucky, after all.
#poetry  #prosechallenge  #culture  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Challenge of the Week #56: Write the beginning of a story about a tyrannical king who threatens the entire realm. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by JamesMByers

Ego, Porridge, and a Dwarf

     Falling to her knees, Acirema wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. Many times she had been beaten, and many times she had gotten back up. Servitude seemed her only reality. Desperation settled in, but beneath each heartbeat nestled the sound of hope. King Dlanod laughed. She expected this.

     "My porridge was too cold. How can you expect me to eat it cold?”

Mustering the strength to stand, the young dwarf looked her king in the eyes as she moved to the bowl. In his anger, he had tipped it over. Hurriedly wiping up the mess, she dabbed the blood from her latest slap as she collected the utensils that had fallen around his routine seating arrangement.

     “Perhaps your porridge might taste better if you hadn't banned all the elves from our kingdom, sire? They cooked. We dwarves are miners and smiths, not short order chefs. Don't you remember the feasts you once had?”

     The orange ogre turned and slapped Acirema to the ground again. The wooden bowl flung across the room, skidding along the way. Shaking it off, the dwarf moved one knee at a time until she slowly collected the bowl and spoon she dropped from his attack.

     “You are not my advisor,” he sneered. “I do what must be done for this kingdom in order to provide peace, security and freedom. The elves, gnomes, and fairies got in my way. You're lucky. I loathe your race. But you do as you're told so I keep them around. Look at this nation now. The orcs, ogres, and goblins shall proposer under my intelligence! Everyone else can get in line or be destroyed.”

     Moving to the nearby window, the dwarf servant peered outside. The second sun was rising. Though she could barely make out the faces of those below her, she sensed something in each person making their way about life ... hope. A glimmer resonated through each step taken. And though many of them were headed to work on the great stone wall King Dlanod enforced as a tribute, the unity his reign cemented among the many tribes reassured her all was not lost. 

     Whips cracked. Chains clanked. But the music they produced formed a new beat in her heart; a rhythm in her soul. She called it freedom. Thinking of her former king, Amabo, she knew a leader could be wise and kind. In this moment she thought of her people.

     Looking back at her beastly ruler on her way to the kitchen, Acirema smiled. Things were changing. Perhaps she wouldn't be beaten down forever. Perhaps, if those people felt the same as she did, together they could make a difference. She rounded the corner and entered the chef’s quarter humming the tune of days to come. For now, she had to make the porridge ...

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Challenge of the Week #56: Write the beginning of a story about a tyrannical king who threatens the entire realm. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by JamesMByers
Ego, Porridge, and a Dwarf
     Falling to her knees, Acirema wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. Many times she had been beaten, and many times she had gotten back up. Servitude seemed her only reality. Desperation settled in, but beneath each heartbeat nestled the sound of hope. King Dlanod laughed. She expected this.

     "My porridge was too cold. How can you expect me to eat it cold?”

Mustering the strength to stand, the young dwarf looked her king in the eyes as she moved to the bowl. In his anger, he had tipped it over. Hurriedly wiping up the mess, she dabbed the blood from her latest slap as she collected the utensils that had fallen around his routine seating arrangement.

     “Perhaps your porridge might taste better if you hadn't banned all the elves from our kingdom, sire? They cooked. We dwarves are miners and smiths, not short order chefs. Don't you remember the feasts you once had?”

     The orange ogre turned and slapped Acirema to the ground again. The wooden bowl flung across the room, skidding along the way. Shaking it off, the dwarf moved one knee at a time until she slowly collected the bowl and spoon she dropped from his attack.

     “You are not my advisor,” he sneered. “I do what must be done for this kingdom in order to provide peace, security and freedom. The elves, gnomes, and fairies got in my way. You're lucky. I loathe your race. But you do as you're told so I keep them around. Look at this nation now. The orcs, ogres, and goblins shall proposer under my intelligence! Everyone else can get in line or be destroyed.”

     Moving to the nearby window, the dwarf servant peered outside. The second sun was rising. Though she could barely make out the faces of those below her, she sensed something in each person making their way about life ... hope. A glimmer resonated through each step taken. And though many of them were headed to work on the great stone wall King Dlanod enforced as a tribute, the unity his reign cemented among the many tribes reassured her all was not lost. 

     Whips cracked. Chains clanked. But the music they produced formed a new beat in her heart; a rhythm in her soul. She called it freedom. Thinking of her former king, Amabo, she knew a leader could be wise and kind. In this moment she thought of her people.

     Looking back at her beastly ruler on her way to the kitchen, Acirema smiled. Things were changing. Perhaps she wouldn't be beaten down forever. Perhaps, if those people felt the same as she did, together they could make a difference. She rounded the corner and entered the chef’s quarter humming the tune of days to come. For now, she had to make the porridge ...
#fantasy  #fiction  #prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Written by Sammielee46 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Big Girls Cry

Tears fall.

Orbs of despair drip.

Following the contour of her cheek.

Echoing the bleakness

she holds in her

sorrowful heart.

Pirouettes puddle

as black smears

around her puffed eyes.

She cried as a child

when she couldn't get her own way;

now she cries

for everything she's lost

the innocence that was taken

the freedom that was abused

the choices she wasn't given.

Streaks of pain kiss her skin

- skin that's scarred with the weight

of memories that keep her awake

at night,

tearing her apart from the

inside out.

Nightmares that haunt her

echo in her screams

- the kind that leave the throat

without making a sound,

when the terror steals

the horror from your voice

by placing its fear

over quivering lips,

smearing her lipstick;

her war paint,

her mask,

washed away

by things that can never

be forgotten.

When she was young,

she was told that

big girls don't cry.

But after yesteryear's

this big girl is still

a child inside

- crying into the ether,

wishing that one day

she could feel the

purity

that has all but been

forgotten...

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Written by Sammielee46 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Big Girls Cry
Tears fall.
Orbs of despair drip.
Following the contour of her cheek.
Echoing the bleakness
she holds in her
sorrowful heart.
Pirouettes puddle
as black smears
around her puffed eyes.
She cried as a child
when she couldn't get her own way;
now she cries
for everything she's lost
the innocence that was taken
the freedom that was abused
the choices she wasn't given.
Streaks of pain kiss her skin
- skin that's scarred with the weight
of memories that keep her awake
at night,
tearing her apart from the
inside out.
Nightmares that haunt her
echo in her screams
- the kind that leave the throat
without making a sound,
when the terror steals
the horror from your voice
by placing its fear
over quivering lips,
smearing her lipstick;
her war paint,
her mask,
washed away
by things that can never
be forgotten.
When she was young,
she was told that
big girls don't cry.
But after yesteryear's
this big girl is still
a child inside
- crying into the ether,
wishing that one day
she could feel the
purity
that has all but been
forgotten...
#poetry  #amwriting  #Itslit  #getlit 
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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by MsHannahTweets

Freckles

Jill always considered herself to be a victim of genetics. No matter how much she worked out and ate healthy foods, nothing would change the pear shape of her body. Without the help of heels, it was impossible for her to stand taller than 5'3. Worst of all, she thought, was how freckled the sun made her skin. While her friends turned golden brown in the summer, she became spotted. The unchangeability of genes was endlessly frustrating. Jill had done nothing to deserve this injustice. 

For several weeks, she sheltered a crush on a new guy named Charlie in her friend group. He seemed somewhat interested, but she couldn't quite tell. Dread boiled inside her body when all of her friends decided to spend a day at the beach. Swimsuits were her least favorite thing to wear. But, knowing her crust would be there, she went anyway. Without her heels, Charlie could see her true height. He was startled, but seemed almost pleased.

Letting her guard down, Jill jumped into the water and enjoyed a day of swimming. She forgot that the salty water would eliminate her makeup and make her freckles shine brightly. But she was very lucky it did. As it turns out, Charlie liked shorter girls and LOVED freckles. 

No, it wasn't fair that Jill was covered it freckles. It gave her an advantage. Little did she know, another girl was nearby watching her. This person also hated genetics. No matter what she did, her skin didn't freckle. 

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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by MsHannahTweets
Freckles
Jill always considered herself to be a victim of genetics. No matter how much she worked out and ate healthy foods, nothing would change the pear shape of her body. Without the help of heels, it was impossible for her to stand taller than 5'3. Worst of all, she thought, was how freckled the sun made her skin. While her friends turned golden brown in the summer, she became spotted. The unchangeability of genes was endlessly frustrating. Jill had done nothing to deserve this injustice. 

For several weeks, she sheltered a crush on a new guy named Charlie in her friend group. He seemed somewhat interested, but she couldn't quite tell. Dread boiled inside her body when all of her friends decided to spend a day at the beach. Swimsuits were her least favorite thing to wear. But, knowing her crust would be there, she went anyway. Without her heels, Charlie could see her true height. He was startled, but seemed almost pleased.

Letting her guard down, Jill jumped into the water and enjoyed a day of swimming. She forgot that the salty water would eliminate her makeup and make her freckles shine brightly. But she was very lucky it did. As it turns out, Charlie liked shorter girls and LOVED freckles. 

No, it wasn't fair that Jill was covered it freckles. It gave her an advantage. Little did she know, another girl was nearby watching her. This person also hated genetics. No matter what she did, her skin didn't freckle. 
#prosechallenge  #Itslit  #getlit 
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