Writing prompts from me to you. I personally cant write well, might aswell share ideas.

365 days, 365 scenes.
Battles among supreme beings.
Poems about losing love.
Dragons showing mercy.
Kids stumbling upon magic.

This journey involves my answering of 365 creative writing prompts in a desperate bid to overcome my laziness.
The prompts come from https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/ and I write one a day.

THE SITUATION RIGHT NOW: I've gotten over the majority of my laziness. I'm unlikely to update this much. It's pretty much complete. The novel I'm working on is Dark Seas Leading Demise

A fiber of connection from miles away...



Our places on this earth are divided by oceans setting us apart from one continent to another. Several countries speaking several languages to understand each other. People with several cultures and beliefs. Different personalities and opinions.

In this chaotic world, we live in called real life we search for a place to escape from that reality. To be accepted as who or what we are. We have found that in the music we sing. In the books, we read. In the movies we watch. In the places, we travel and visit. Everywhere in which we get inspiration to face reality head-on.

We write stories or poems to inspire others, reading the words we weave from our own world. For some of us, it is simply an escape from reality into a world in which we can use our imaginations to dream make-believe or to live our secret fantasies or just plain be creative.

Getting on the web gives us more ways to share and get connected to other people with the same kind of thinking from across the ocean. Some of the people we meet along the way give us reasons to smile again. It's where we become friends, get to know them well, and get so close that we even trust them enough to share our own greatest fears.

I was a living a kind of living death when I found solace here on Stories Space. A place to write, camouflaging my hatred and sadness from myself when I was reading all the poetry and fictional fantasies created by the writers. I found another escape from reality and indulged in reading.

My feelings from my own troubles in life had made me feel so empty that only through laughter and reading could I be free and somewhat whole again.

I made my own heaven in purgatory.

A friend told me to write down all of my pains and troubles in poems or stories. Another friend of mine told me to be fierce in my poetry writing. I found friends who helped me give my own life a reason to continue living again through writing.

Writing makes me calm every time my mind gets into a panic mode. The pains and the fears of the unknown are my muses for writing.

When I met someone who understood me and made me feel needed and loved my poetry changed its tune. It made me think of happy thoughts. I got inspired by the things I saw and the happy memories of my childhood that I could write about.

Painful memories and realities were always there and so I wrote about them from time to time.

When that someone left me I continued writing. The same inner muse I had gained I used to keep on writing.

Then, out of nowhere, I got to know you. I became happy again. This time I got even more inspired and more creative, experimenting with my writings.

I set aside my shyness and reservations to write creatively. I still can't overcome some of my shyness and reservation but I am blooming, inspired by you.

You became my muse.

The man in the moon. The stars in my darkest hours. When at night I can't sleep thinking of you calms me to sleep.

The sunshine after the heavy storm. Where all the dead trees come to life again. That keeps me warm when everything gets chilly.

My own little heaven in my real life purgatory.

Writing...

Rune's Prose & Poetries

LUCID DREAMS

my wandering crazy mind is just doodling in the sands...

it's just me ...this is a collection of my amateurish writings of poetry, short stories, and prose...

These are all short stories compilation a different story per chapter.

WARNING: Adult contents, please be advised that you're reading EROTICA


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
RuneMcGrey
Copyright©2014-present

All writings remains MEG Cabingan a.k.a. RuNe also known as runemcgrey's property.
Don't use it for any other purposes without her permission.

The language learning course which tested the ability of the students' minds to read, and comprehend a certain text, acknowledged the variety of literary pieces across the world, expressed one's sentiments, and viewpoints through creative writing, and gave up a speech to the public with a required self-confidence and charisma had conquered the class of Yeats.

"English Time!" a classmate exclaimed.

"Ugh. Why on earth..." Noah said, lying her head onto the armrest.

The teacher had arrived with her male student who assisted her to carry on her stationery materials and left afterwards. 

She expressed her warmest greeting to the class, "Good morning, everyone."

"Gooood Morningggg, Ma'am Rhea," the entire students responded in dullness, deliberately prolonging the words.

"Again, good morning, Yeats."

"Good Morning, Ma'am Rhea! We are happy to see you today!"

The teacher nodded, and commanded them, "Okay, you may now take your seats."

"So Yeats, in this period, we would be having an activity, and I'm sure you would definitely love to hate this one."

The students plastered a counterfeit grin on their faces as they listened to their teacher's introduction. It looked as if their incoming task would be an "easy yet a lazy job" for them.

"You will be composing an original poetry! Isn't beautiful? A form of art of regurgitating all your personal experiences, feelings, aspirations, and showing off your ideals and visions of the world around us by using a piece of paper and a pen. What lies ahead of our future? Who shall be the one to pass this on for the next generation. It's only you, the young ones. As our beloved national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal quoted, 'The youth is the hope of our nation'," Ma'am Rhea Azuela dramatically spoke, and her fists were firmly closed.

Everyone groaned with the exemption of Ma'am Rhea whose energy was trying hard to somehow radiate the entire classroom.

"Hmm... Okay, you only have two options: To create or not to create. My role as a teacher is simply taking down of your grades and morals in your report card. If you want a failing grade, why not? I'll give it to you. Other than that, what does youth always say? You only live once, eh? So, I won't stop you from not submitting your requirement," Ma'am Rhea shrugged.

"Anyways, for those who wished to conform to the task, listen up. Before you start writing, I would love to give a bit of a background about our today's lesson. I'm sure most of you familiar with them. We've known different lyrical poems, epic poems and etcetera. Now, I'll ask you. What is haiku? Anyone?"

"Just give me a gist of it."

Students were staring at each other's eyes, and no one dared to speak. Few were looking at the white board. Most were avoiding an eye contact from their instructor. Some of them were gaping at the outside of the room. Ma'am Rhea whined and continued.

"Guys, you have to talk. Remember, this is an English class. You have to hone your communication skills. How are you going supposed to learn if you don't utilize your mouths? Ha? Come on. No answers are wrong in language. It's more on thoughts and ideas that we should express. You should be engaging more on interaction. And pretty please, let's help each other out. Don't leave me hanging guys, Okay?"

"Now, any thoughts from this group?" she asked, looking at the first row. Ma'am Rhea was about to choose her lucky victim when one of her students raised her right hand, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss? What do you think? What is haiku?"

"May I go to the comfort room?" the wench replied.

Some of the senior high students were retaining their soon-to-be-bursted laughter. Ma'am Rhea sighed, and said, "Yes, you may."

The young lass stood up straight, and said, "But, If I am not mistaken, haiku refers to a five-seven-five syllable count in a one three-phrase stanza. It is also originated in Japan."

"Again, thank you for your permission, Ma'am."

The schoolgirl went to the school comfort room, leaving the entire class in amusement. Ma'am Rhea snapped her fingers to get back her little ones' focus.

"That's my girl! She got it right. Finally, someone saved you from danger, eh?" the teacher cunningly grinned, and the student were then relieved. 

"And since this is a surprise activity, you need not to compose a haiku. Still, it is included in your quarterly exams. Instead, I challenge you to write a poem. Freestyle. Whether you want to have your piece that consists of a rhyme, or a regular meter. It's up to you. Make sure it has three stanzas. Do you understand me, Yeats?"

Dassah lifted up her hand up, and called, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Dassah?"

"What would the topic be about?" the student asked.

"Hmm... Good question," Ma'am Rhea nodded, and began considering a great theme for her class's written poetry. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up. She smiled and responded to her student.

"It should be based on your personal experience. For example, your bonding with your family and friends. Maybe you want to write about your life as a student, and whatsoever. The sky's the limit."

"So, any questions?"

The class replied, "None."

"Okay. You may now start. And please let me check your composition before the bell rings whether it is done or not. I'll give a plus point and a secret award for those who could create a finished piece," Ma'am Rhea announced, and sat down on her chair to relax her voluptuous legs.

"Ma'am, what is the reward?" one man asked.

"It won't be confidential anymore, if I'll tell you, mister," she said.

The students proceeded writing on their mandatory art work. Creative juices were flooding up inside of their right brains. Tearing papers were echoing everywhere in the section. Loud mental groans from every school teens dominated in the class. Frustration mixed with determination to make a possible masterpiece were obviously transparent on their hopeless faces. Dassah who eventually ended her write-up stood up from her armchair, and submitted it to her English teacher. 

Ma'am Rhea was impressed, and took her ample time to read her three-stanza poem. As she perused Dassah's work, she smiled in delight.

"Miss Quinn."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a dumb question," the instructor said. She glanced at her unknowing student in mischief, and continued her talk.

" Are you in love?"

"NO WAY, MA'AM," Dassah yelled at her teacher. Her classmates instantly shifted their gaze at the two. She became flustered, and softly spoke, "Umm... Sorry, ma'am. I was just shocked. But, no, I am not, ma'am."

"And what makes you think that I'm uh..."

Ma'am Rhea replied, still smiling, "In love?"

Dassah slowly nodded in embarrassment,"Uh-huh."

"It's just my assumption. It seems the message of your poem conveys about a clichè romance like this love at first sight kind of scene. Ah. Reminds me of my first young love,"  Ma'am Rhea Azuela said, feeling the nostalgia of her past teen era.

"And, what's even more interesting is that I instructed you to have a poem that talks about your life encounters." Dassah's teacher continued.

"Then, I thought I might be wrong, so which is why I asked you."

Dassah again nodded as an abiding servant, and the English teacher spoke again herself, "So, mind if I ask you the story behind this piece of yours?"

"Um... Sure, Ma'am. But, it already says it all," Dassah said.

"It's basically this. I met a guy at a convenience store, and I did not forsee anything that we would see each other for the second time around. And for me, I was happy it happened for the both of us."

Ma'am Rhea could no longer hide her squeals, and let it out without any reservation.

"Oh, ignore my giggles. The story was too cute. But hey, Miss Quinn. This is your prize," she commented, and gestured her to move closer. Dassah came near to her instructor in obedience.

"You'll present it to the other class."

"Ma'am?!" Dassah exclaimed in terror.

"Shh... Don't tell anyone," she warned the young lady.

"But, but..."

Ma'am Rhea smiled, and said, "You may go back to your seat, Miss Quinn."

Dassah heaved a sigh of defeat, and move herself back to her armchair.  Floating her countless regrets of submitting her poem, the young lady had enough of the trap, and let the situation sail by itself.

Dassah Quinn had left no choice but to stay with a perfect stranger. Yearning for someone who would help them get out of trouble and leave the olden storage room is her gleam of hope. 

In the course of incarceration, Dassah unexpectedly entailed herself in a scheme of discerning the nondescript man, One One.

　After eating, Lin Xu entered the study room again. Lin Jian was very pleased with this. Haha smiled and said: "It is the merit of the singer. The rise of the singer has not only brought the Holy Power to me, but also brought the Holy Power to me. Even the gangs have used a lot of work. But who is this singer? It should not be in Kyoto, it may be in a local college, tomorrow, let local people look up and see if there are such good seedlings. !"

　　Lin Xu re-entered into the St. Wen. After so many world recommendations from the Great God, Lin Xu's "Water Melody" actually broke through the million mark in a meal, reaching the point of 13,000 subscriptions. After all, most of you were still skeptical about Lin Xu's article. What good things can a child write? Therefore, although many people saw Lin Xu's update, they did not go to see his article. Until such a big god recommended, he finally made his subscription show a blowout.

　　Lin Xu's greatest sacred power has also risen directly to more than 5,000. Because of the one-on-one breakthrough rewards, Shengli will continue to grow with the increase of sales. For every hundred dollars sold, you can grow a little holy. Force, this sale is not a reward.

　　Lin Xu didn't pay much attention to other things. There are so many subscriptions. If your own updates can't keep up, it's a waste of so many subscriptions. You must take advantage of this good opportunity and update some things. The novel can't be updated. Then update the poetry.

　　However, Lin Xu's most important thing is to buy a more convenient input tool, so he opens the mall. The mall is divided into several categories: "Sacred Learning Class", "Saint Wenling Class", and "Shengli Attack Skills Class". , "Wenbao Class", "St. Lidan", "Wenbao Refining Law", "St. Lidan Refining Law", "Saint Lidan Medicinal Materials", "Wenbao Materials", "Others" class"!

　　After Lin Xu read the introduction, he clicked on the "Wenbao" class. It turned out that these writers were all written by the writers and writers themselves. Lin Xu knew that these things can be homemade. It is necessary for me to learn such a production skill, to make the most convenient pen, and even to find a way to make the keyboard. At that time, I can fly.

　　However, it is still necessary to first look at whether you can buy a hard pen, so he puts a pen in the Wenbao class, and a whole bunch of strange pens appear in front of him.

　　The level of Wenbao is divided into: spirit, holy, and god.

　　Lin Xu can only use Lingbao as a writer, and junior writers can only use the primary Lingbao. Because the primary Lingbao enters the holy text, a word only costs about 10 points. Intermediate Lingbao needs to spend about 20 points.

　　The junior writer has just been promoted. Generally, there are only three thousand points of holy power. If you write with the intermediate Lingbao, you will reach two hundred words. I am afraid that there will be four thousand holy forces. If the writer is a junior writer, he will not be able to breathe. After writing the article, if the Holy Spirit is restored, it is better to use the primary Lingbao to write. Although it is slower than the intermediate Lingbao, it is faster than restoring the Holy Spirit.

　　Moreover, more importantly, the price of the primary Lingbao starts from one thousand holy coins, while the price of the intermediate Lingbao starts from five thousand holy coins. The price difference is really too big, and the non-local tyrants will not be at the primary writer. Buy intermediate-level Lingbao at the stage.

　　Although Lin Xu had more than 10,000 holy coins after the division, it was better to use the primary Lingbao, so he chose the primary Lingbao.

　　A slippery spirit pen is a primary spiritual treasure, all kinds of, including the author's whimsy, and each has its own advantages and disadvantages, and from the price, costly, writing speed can be judged some spiritual pen The price/performance ratio comes.

　　However, if Lin Xu just buys an ordinary pen, it is better to continue to use the existing one. He wants to try his luck and see if he can have a hard pen. If not, he should consider whether he is taking the time to learn. The skills created by Wenbao, and then make a pen out.

　　Fortunately, Lin Xu found that there is a pen that resembles a hard pen. This is a kind of pen that is similar to the principle of a water core pen. Before writing, you need to pour ink into the pen holder behind the pen, and then you can start writing. However, a tube of ink, it is estimated to write about a thousand words, but also to refill the ink.

　　Lin Xu looked at the above introduction. It turned out that an Wenbao refiner was in the early stage, and suddenly had a whimsy. He felt that it was too much trouble to use ink on his brush. So he invented this pen, but everyone's sacred text. The teacher started with the first word practice, wrote a brush for a few years, and who would easily change his pen? Therefore, his pen hangs here for decades, and there are many people watching it, but no one has placed an order until Lin Xu orders to buy it.

　　And when Lin Xu bought this pen, among a group of Wenbao makers, a person named Qixiang sent a message: "Someone bought my pen!"

　　"Just kidding, although your pen is creative, but it is too hard to write, it is not suitable for writing! UU reading www.uukanshu.com"

　　"Yeah, who is likely to buy your pen, you are wrong!"

　　"If you really buy it, it must be a fool!"

　　So the whimsy issued a sales record and said: "You look at it, it is he bought my pen!"

　　Everyone looked at it and was amazed because the record they saw was: "Sauer bought your primary pen and got 1099 holy coins!"

　　"I rely on, Sao, this is not the writer who just broke the record of the junior writer's assessment today?"

　　"More than that, an article he wrote today was recommended by Jiujian Dashen!"

　　"Sure enough, the wonderful people have wonderful ideas. He bought all your wonderful pens!"

　　Imagine: "Haha... I said it earlier. I only know the benefits of this pen when I can only understand the benefits of it. I really didn't expect it. It was a genius who bought it! Haha... Since Saskatchewan supports it I, in the future, I am his iron powder. I don't want this 1099 holy coin. I will reward him to Sao, and I will be his iron powder!"

　　Everyone: "..."

　　Lin Xu didn't know that he could bring out so many things when he bought a pen. At the moment, he discovered that he actually had a virtual space. The pen he bought was lying in the virtual space. Lin Xu thought, this one The pen went to his own hand.

　　"I don't know if I can put it in again?" So he thought, so the pen in his hand went into the space again. "Sure enough, try something else!"

　　So Lin Xu tried a variety of things, and found that ordinary things can't be put into space, only things related to the holy text can be put into the space. This is very convenient, at least not to carry the pen and paper on the body.

Bad grammar is to be expected
read with caution
Been translated to english 
read before webnovel get me
10 Chapter per day
Number of chapter in chinese:130
Status:Cancel/Taking a break
you can read it on my website as well 
Discord link https://discord.gg/sG7DVsM

I am not that pleasant to the eye. I have these forever tiny pimples that take shelter on my face. And I think I have gotten big over the years of stress-eating. 

This guy in front of me does not think so though. 

/"I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner later."/ 

Or maybe he is just making fun of me and this is some kind of prank he is trying to pull off with his jock of a friends. I have seen this guy and he is the new member of the basketball team of Moordale High. I have not known him that much, but I know the basketball boys were assholes. 

This guy standing in front of me is a sophomore and it sucks that he is taller than me. He has brown curly hair, black eyes, and frickeled cheeks. And I think he is pleasant to the eyes, too pleasant. 

/"I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner later."/ 

Too straightforward to even be believable. I look boringly back at his eyes, which showed nervousness. He glances at something behind my back. The jockholes look like they are snickering. 

I grab the books from my lockers and look back at him.

"Trust me, you don't wanna be like them." I walk away from him and towards my first period. 

You see, the basketball players at my school hate me. They hate me for accidentally finding out their secret. I never meant to intrude but they were just not that careful. That's why they left me alone, sadly my proof was shattered by them, my phone, and now I had nothing against them. Just kidding, I backed it up on my laptop. I am not that fucking stupid. One more dirty move, and their parents will know that their precious innocent sons are actually not that innocent anymore. 

Wednesday is the best school day. Creative Writing is first period. And I love the subject. And I get to be with Atlas in the same room. 

I quickly go to my seat and write my thoughts and feelings of the day. Mr. Harrington has this idea of writing down what we are feeling and I don't know for what purpose. 

/I think I will be fine./

He has not yet arrived. I roll the paper and put it in the box of his table. 

I turn to my seat to find Atlas already sitting and writing down on his paper. He is 7 seats away from me. He is in front while I was at the back.

In no time, the students filled the room and Mr. Harrington started his lecture of the day. I listened to him properly but my mind keeps bringing me back to what happened this morning.

/"Your mom is coming here tomorrow, please clean your room."/ I hear my dad's voice. It was not my mom, coming to the house, that was bothering me. It was my dad. Sure, he changed. But everything was awkward at the house, he is always early for work and arrives so late. He does not look at me when he says something. We don't eat together. It's like we are two strangers living in the same house. Like housemates that are supposed to get along. We don't get along. He barely even talks to me. It has always been like that. I was always the one initiating the conversation when we eat together, which barely happens. I tell him about school and he would reply with words that are blank and I ask him about work and he'll say it's okay and the conversation ends.

/I think I will be fine/ I snap out of my thoughts and look back at Mr. Harrington who has started reading the rolled papers. 

"Whoever you are, remember that it gets better. Your day might have started badly, does not mean it ends badly, do something fun, something you want to do. It's a bad day, not a bad life." Mr. Harrington was good at motivation and making students feel better. I wonder why isn't the guidance councilor when he was better than Mrs. Yuan. 

"I beat off three tim..." the class is in hysterics, including me. "Now, what did I say about this stuff?..." He rambles on and on about the use of language and then continued to read the other papers, which of course, had plenty more unclean contents. 

I look back at Atlas, whose back I can only see. He is laughing along with the class, his broad shoulders bobbing in the process. 

He is good at poetry as well. He is good at everything he does. He is this perfect student, this perfect jock, this perfect son, this perfect boyfriend, but he will never be a perfect friend. 

Suddenly, I am so angry. Angry at him. Angry for what he has done. Angry that he gave up on our friendship. Angry that he blamed me for his parents separation when his parents actually had reunited and stayed a perfect family in town. Angry that he did not even reach out and try to recompense. Angry that he chose to be friends with assholes. Angry that he is unattainable. 

And I am angry at myself, for not being able to let go. For messing things up. For not being able to save my parents' marriage. Angry at my mother for leaving. Angry at my mother who has built a new family and they are probably talking and not awkward with each other. Angry at my father for cheating. Angry that he isn't proud of his faggot of a son that he could not even talk to let alone look at. I am angry that I chose him. 

I am angry at myself for being the way I am. I am angry that as I sit here, my eyes blinking back tears, looking at Atlas' back, I realize that I am jealous of him. That I have always been. And I hate it. 

"Mr. Jones, are you okay?" I look back at my 6'4 teacher who is now standing in front of me. I know all eyes are on me. They are probably looking at me weirdly, including Atlas. But I don't look at any.

I clear my throat.
"Um, yeah... I am okay sir."

I will always say I am okay.



/Even when it is obvious that I am not./

Summer is in love with Atlas. Atlas likes Summer, but no, not in that way.


boyxboy

"Christine, allow me to tell you who I really am," Corinna eagerly opened the conversation. "I was a bullying victim too."

"Really?" I asked Corinna. "Tell me what happened."

Corinna started off by narrating how she was cruelly treated by her own classmates in school as a fifth grader. 

In her recollection, Corinna tearfully revealed that she was constantly ignored and rebuked by her classmates while attempting to join their group. They saw Corinna as an 'ugly duckling' that does not have what it takes to be a lady.

To make matters worse, Charissa's classmates called her a 'disgusting piece of crap' and a 'poor and ugly SOB'. They even went as far as playing an ugly prank on Corinna. 

She recalled one particular moment when one classmate poured a tub of water behind Corinna's back.

"There was this girl who sneaked from behind and suddenly dropped a tub of water on me," Corinna said, her eyes leaking with tears. "My uniform and my whole body were so wet and I was so angry and annoyed that I refused to come back to class."

Eventually, with the urging of her class adviser, Corinna reluctantly made her way back to class. But the damage had been done.

After only a few months, Corinna's parents came to school and told the principal that they would withdraw her from school without further notice. While the principal eventually kicked out the offender responsible for the cruel prank on Corinna, she still left school anyway, never to return again.

"Christine, I felt so severely depressed at the time that taking my life became an unexpected option," she looked back at that emotional moment. "I wanted to have a decent education so bad, but the demands of social life snatched all the joy away."

At this point Corinna started to cry. Her tears melted some of the black eye-shadow off her eyes.

After hugging Corinna and telling her to unleash all of her pent-up emotion, she continued on with her story. This time the mood went from gloom to cheerful in a matter of minutes.

Determined to give her a second chance, Corinna's parents transferred her to a different school which was not far from the campus she previously attended. This time, however, she managed to fit in well with her new classmates.

"Upon moving to a new school, I thought I would receive a frosty reception," Corinna wistfully recalled. "Instead, my new classmates were more than willing to hang out and talk to me, and I enjoyed every moment of it."

Corinna's new classmates were also girls who were two years younger than her. But unlike her former classmates, they were not concerned about being beautiful and elegant; instead, they only aimed for academic excellence and nothing else.

Corinna thrived in her new surroundings and she eventually finished in the top 20 of her class in grade school. The same can also be said in high school where Corinna ended in the top 20 as well.

"Those were some of my best moments I ever experienced," Corinna related to me. "My new classmates helped me work hard on my education, and I got rewarded with it."

Corinna also excelled in debate competitions during high school. She was also a two-time poetry and declamation winner.

Still, not even a new environment prevented Corinna from escaping her troubled past. On a few occasions after class, Corinna went face to face with her former classmates who continued to taunt her at every turn.

"I still have nightmares from my old school every now and then," Corinna recalled. "But I largely ignored it because those new classmates wanted me to concentrate more on my studies and nothing else."

When Corinna entered college, she became determined to leave her troubled past behind. Corinna cut her hair short, inked some tattoos and began to dress in goth-inspired clothing.

Corinna and I went to her condominium unit thinking that she would change clothes. Instead, she took off her black shirt for a moment to reveal some tattoos and a navel ring.

Corinna's upper back tattoo is of her own name written in a Gothic-style lettering. She then showed me two more of them: a broken red heart near her right breast and three stars on her left abdomen.

"Gosh, you really changed a lot," I remarked on Corinna's personal transformation. "You went from nice to naughty this quick."

"Actually Christine I'm still a pretty nice person deep down," Corinna responded. "People sometimes misunderstood me for my choice of clothing, but who cares? I'm comfortable with my choice of outfits."

After putting on her shirt back, Corinna went to the balcony to smoke. Despite offering me one or two sticks of cigarettes, I refused her offer and told her of my dislike towards cigarette smoke.

Shortly after, we went back to campus and continued our conversation. Just then, Corinna encountered Michelle fresh from basketball practice.

"Who's this girl?" Michelle remarked about Corinna. "She looked more unconventional than most other girls."

"Michelle, don't get me wrong. This lady always wanted to look like a rebel because that's who she really is," I answered back. "In fact she is my classmate from creative writing class. Her name is Corinna." 

After she had politely introduced herself to Michelle, the three of us strolled leisurely through the hallway. But it was already 11:10 a.m. and Corinna had a class to attend.

"Christine, sorry but I have to go," Corinna announced to me. "I have class coming up in a few."

"Oh well," I replied earnestly. "We can communicate some other time, perhaps in class tomorrow. What can you say?"

"Why not?" Corinna smilingly assured me before walking gently to her classroom. "See you soon then."

After Corinna departed from our sights, Michelle and I were on our way to a different class. But Michelle still harbored personal doubts over her.

"Christine, I'm unsure about Corinna, though," Michelle wondered bitterly. "She acted very nice, but something about her ticked me off."

"Don't worry about it," I assured a doubtful Michelle. "It was her conscious decision to dress like that, but she's still a remarkably kind person to talk along with."

"Hope she stays like that," Michelle reluctantly accepted.

It was off to media ethics class for us. Yet in spite of my continued assurance regarding Corinna, Michelle remains uncertain of her.

Christine, a 22-year-old college student, decides to open a blog and write a story about her tormented past.

As a young child, Christine was constantly abused and mocked by her classmates for her nearsightedness and portly complexion. To make matters worse, she was left to live with her aunt after her mother was assigned to work overseas and her father became too preoccupied in his work as a doctor.

This story is about a young woman's pursuit towards positivity and joy amid these turbulent times. For Christine, all she wants now is to face her fears and overcome them one by one.

Authors' Note

"The Innocent Killer"

I'm JayCeexxvi the Author of this story. I finally presents this 2020, which is first to publish wattpad and also here in webnovel.
This is entitled "The Innocent Killer" 

I started this story on January 25, 2020 and published in wattpad on March 29, 2020 and published here in webnovel on May 8, 2020.

Before i created this story, i conduct some research, surveys; and also ask for advices from my friends, mentors and Authors. I am a beginner writer but since then it was my biggest dream to complete story here in wattpad, but this time hoping that it will be accomplished and succeed. When i was a child, way back then when i was 12, i start writing poetry and short stories. When i was 15 years of age, i start reading stories here in wattpad. I also tried writing stories but my interest fades, thinking that maybe i'm not into writing.
This 2020, i start writing one shot stories and poetry in my Facebook account. Comments and feedbacks encouraged me to start writing story in wattpad.
I dedicate this story to the persons out there experienced abuse and violence.

I apologize for the typographical, grammatical and mechanical errors in this story.

NOTE: If there's any resemblance towards names, places, business, events, and incidents is purely coincidence, it's either product of authors imagination in form of fictious manner; Any similarity regarding Names of actual person, living or dead is quite resembling by chance and not referring anyone.
NOTE: Any copyprint and reproduction in any part of this story without any form of explicit permission and authorization of the rightful owner may accuse or subject to imitation and imposes liability 
underneath the legal purpose and jurisdiction of the law.
PLAGIARISM is CRIME!

CAUTION:
Restricted Inappropriate scenarios may occur in this story.
This story isn't suit for sensitive person; this may have harassment, sexual, and other inappropriate things that readers may might not like.
Maybe this is not a cup of your coffee, you can freely leave this page. Thanks

It is my honor to accept your positive and negative thoughts and comments in this story. If you have feedbacks, suggestions and recommendation you can freely comment or also directly message me in my Wattpad account, Facebook account or even here in webnovel.

May this story inspires and also delivers moral lessons and learnings in life. I may not be perfect but i can be a good author to you as well as you're good to me. I will do my all of my best until this story ends.
May you continuous support this story until this story end.
May you also accompany me in this journey as i begin writing.

Let me show you the work of fiction
Explore the world of my imagination
Make me visualize the composition of my creation.

Thank You!
^_^

Facebook Account: JayCee Wp
Facebook Page: JayCeexxvi
Wattpad Account: @JayCeexxvi

THE INNOCENT KILLER
by: JayCeexxvi

"Paano mo nasabing inosente sya kung napatunayang nakapatay sya?"
"Wala akong ginawang masama! Hindi ko magagawa ang ibinibintang nyo!"

"Minsan, ang isang makasalanan ay biktima din ng karahasan"
"There are secrets behind lies"
"Not all you see is reality"

Paano kung magising ka isang araw at hindi mo na kilala ang sarili mo?
Paano mo iintindihin at paniniwalaan ang mga bagay na mahirap ipaliwanag?
Kakayanin mo ba?
Paano kung paulit-ulit mong nararanasan ang kalupitan at pagdurusa?
Paano ka makakaligtas kung naisip mo'ng sumuko sa kawalan ng pagasa?
Malalampasan mo kaya?

This story reflects violence against woman and children.

This 2020 i finally present my first creation,
"The Innocent Killer"

Enjoy Reading!
-JayCeexxvi

TMS is now well and truly ended.
Thank you Islinda for giving this story a chance for a contract. I hope it proves well for Webnovel.
To all TMS regular readers and supporters. I won't name you individually to respect your anonymity.  With my deepest respect, thank you for your time, interaction and support.  A story can be written.  It's only when it's read that it becomes a tale. 
And I won't forget those from Tapread and Wattpad who gave Hinata and Eiji's drama a chance when it was there.  I've been blessed.
Here is an omake about its own small journey to close the curtains. 
---WPC #46 - To My Sunflower's Journey---
A moment of nostalgia as I look back to the contest that helped me form the concept for this story. Otherwise, I would've never written it.
---[[Writing Prompts Contest #46:Fall in Love with a Soldier
"Believe it or not, the only way we kept in touch was through letters. We would write to each other about our days, about our lives. They were all innocent letters, but they were amazing because it gave me an insight into how simple a person he was."
What it feels like loving a soldier?
"When you fall in love with a soldier, you fall in love with your country; when you fall in love with a soldier, nothing is set in stone on your end. Plans can and will change at the drop of a hat and planning ahead is impossible.
Though all that is true, so is when you fall in love with a soldier, you've found the best there is.
When you fall in love with a soldier, you've found someone who not only loves you more than his own life but loves his country more than his own life as well.
When you fall in love with a soldier, a kiss is worth a million dollars, and no expensive gift can compare.
When you fall in love with a soldier, you've fallen in love with someone who appreciates having a bed, running water and warm food.
When you fall in love with a soldier, you've fallen in love with not who you've prayed for, but someone so much more.
Thank you, God, for letting me fall in love with my soldier."
(Emily Richeson)https://forum.webnovel.com/d/18335-writing-prompts-contests-45-46]]---
The winner of my prompt was a book that is now on hiatus. No other entries qualified. At the time I didn't realize that having votes was the rank qualifier. So my book was instantly disqualified.
Despite not making it past the car park, so to speak, I kept this story going. I had moved it to Wattpad and continued to post chapters there.
I entered it into a Wattpad community award, and had eventually won the award for Historical Fiction, but never received the prize for it. 😆
That's okay. Knowing that my writing was enough to be a winner in a judge's eyes was cool. It won over some quality stories as well. That was a prize enough for me.
After some time, I started posting the story to Tapread where it picked up read interest there. Then I got a ping from Islinda who liked the lone chapter I had left on the book page.  
This story has been a blast to write. I'm proud of what I've been able to achieve with it. I have no regrets of what I leave behind, as I have given my best shot.
♥♥
Arigatōgozaimashita.  
Until next time. Take care.♥


Hinata longed for his Eiji to return from war. Alone in the idyllic countryside whilst other areas of Japan were torn asunder. One day, he receives a letter from his lover filled with the scent of sunflowers and his undying love for him. Followed by official news of his presumed death at Iwo Jima. Heartbroken. Yet determined to honor his promise to Eiji; to live the life they were unable to live together.

Eiji fought honorably for Japan at Iwo Jima. He fell injured in a banzai charge to be classified as dead. He recovered with the aid of an American lieutenant, who escorted him back into the mainland for espionage work. His one chance and hope of return to Hinata's side.

A compelling risk of a war story set at the end of the Pacific War, 1945. Two sides of the war, on Japanese soil, are shown from the individual perspectives of same-sex lovers Hinata and Eiji. 

More than a boys love. This story is an emotional drama, revealing heart and souls of people surviving America's assault on Japan. The consequences suffered at war's end.

A martial art that represented the Lord of the Demonic Cult was the Godly Force of the Sky Demon. Every cultist knew of the power beyond that martial art and it was also one of three Godly Forces of the Jianghu. But the word said Sword Force, not Godly Force.
'Hmm… is it a sword skill?'
Chun Yeowun was confused. He had never heard of Sword Force. Was it a breathing skill or a sword art? He learned from Guard Jang that the Lord's best martial art was the Sword Art of the Sky Demon. But what was this Sword Force?
'Is it the name of the original sword skill in the blue pearl stone?'
That seemed to be the most likely case here. The bearded middle-aged man who Yeowun met on the first floor of the library said that the blue pearl stone held the truth from Father Chun.
'He would leave a new name for it of course. I guess Father Chun is the one who wrote this here.'
It was natural for making up such a name for a powerful sword art like that, especially if it was made after the Sword Art of the Sky Demon.
'Nano, can you check the writing on this pillar to see if it matches the writing on the blue pearl stone pedestal?'
A white line then scanned the writing on the pillar and Nano soon responded.
[Analysis complete. It is from the same writer.]
'That is the name then!'
Yeowun then learned the real name of the original sword skill he had learned. 
'What up with these holes then?'
Yeowun then looked down at the holes underneath the name. Holes under the poetry on the pedestals represented numbers, but these holes looked different.
'It looks like a drawing.'
The holes formed the shape of a dragon.
'Dargon?'
The animal in the myths symbolized unity and power. He would have not paid that much attention if he didn't find out about the secret behind holes on the blue pearl stone pedestal. He was curious if this drawing had some secret behind it also.
'What is it trying to say?'
Yeowun then sat down to give it some thought. He brought the pedestals to his left and right and began looking closely at the holes in the shape of a dragon. However, he couldn't find identify any relationships between these holes.
'Are the holes related to the numbers again?'
Yeowun then counted the number of holes.
'…Twenty-four?'
There was a total of twenty-four holes. He wondered if the number twenty-four meant anything. After thinking for an hour, all he could think of was the sword movement comprised of the Sword Force of Sky Demon and its twenty-four movements.
'What is it talking about?'
"Whew…"
He sighed in frustration. He couldn't find any answers. What did this soaring dragon mean?
'It should mean something… why is there a drawing of a dragon going up… huh?'
Yeowun then looked up at the ceiling.
"Ugh!"
The light stones from above shined down on him, making him look down. It was too bright to look up directly.
'It's too bright.'
It was too painful to look directly at the stones. Yeowun looked up because the dragon was trying to go up into the ceiling, but he then thought that maybe the secret was on the ceiling. However, he couldn't look directly at it to see what was going on up there.
'Hm…'
Maybe the secret was hidden behind the light, not the darkness. Nothing left by Father Chun Ma was easy to get, but Yeowun had a way to look directly into the light.
'Nano, can you control the light coming into my sight?'
[Adjusting light perception.]
Yeowun's eyes flickered and the cave turned dark. Yeowun then looked up again as he was ready.
"This is amazing…"
Yeowun was astonished. There were a number of shiny stones, but the ones around the giant center pillar showed hundreds of bright stones with writings.
"This was it!"
Yeowun smiled. He wasn't sure what these hundreds of stones were talking about, but they surely held the secret related to the Sword Force of the Sky Demon.
'Nano, can you scan those stones?'
[Yes, Master… scan completed.]
'Project it on that large wall so I can see it more closely.'
Nano then recreated the writing on the ceiling over on the wall. Yeowun walked over and checked the writing.
"…What?"
Yet, the writings weren't related to martial arts at all. It consisted of poetry and other things.
'This… and this… and this… what is going on?'
All of them had no relations to martial arts. Yeowun frowned as he had expected a great finding.
'Did I miss something?'
He thought that going through all of these writings would give him the answer to a great secret, but even if there was a secret hidden within the writings, it didn't seem like it would be that hard to decipher it.
'Maybe it's hidden among all this.'
Yeowun figured there must be something that was related to martial arts. Finding it was the problem. Of course, he didn't need to read all this writing by himself.
'Nano, can you find anything among all this that might have a relationship to martial arts?'
[Scanning.]
Nano proceeded with the scanning. This shortened the amount of time Yeowun needed if he were to look at every stone. Soon, Nano finished scanning and analyzing.
[There is a total of twenty-four stones that contain writings and drawings that seems to teach the Breathing Skill.]
'Breathing skill?'
Yeowun's eyes grew larger. What kind of breathing skill would be divided up into twenty-four stones? Nano then highlighted the twenty-four stones in red. Yeowun's eye grew larger as he looked at it.
"This…!"

Cursed his whole life with only misfortune and hardships, Cheon Yeo Woon, who ranks lowest in the war of the Grand Prince Succession is about to have his world turned upside own when a 'descendant' from a future suddenley appears and installs nano machines inside his body

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