Creative Writing Ideas, Storylines, Diamonds and Pearls

I tossed and turned all night long. My red hair scattered all over my baby blue silky covers. I had this dream about Chase it is vague and very blurry. There is fog every where. Fog surrounded his face and his whole body. He was shouting at me but I couldn’t hear him it was like he was far away. And I reached for him but it was like I was being pulled away. I couldn’t reach him. Then that’s when I wake up in a cold sweat. I feel the sweat bristling on my forehead. Everything is dark and cold and I feel alone. I sit up in bed looking at the dark shadows. I turn around in my bed to my night stand and text Chase. It’s a reflex to go to him for comfort even if it’s just in electronic text form. I know he probably will be a sleep and won’t get it until tomorrow but it’s nice to take my fears out of my mind and put them down on something Chase will read later. I say I had a bad dream. And thirty seconds later I get a text back, “u need me there babe?” I’m pleasantly surprised he is up and I text him back and said, “No it was just a dream. I was just spooked.” Then suddenly I felt warmth and a peace. And I hear his warm and comforting words in my head, “You’ll be ok, just relax and go to sleep.” His words soothed me. I felt a blanket of warmth wrapped around my mind and the panic I suffered because of my dream vanished slowly away. I suddenly was wrapped into a happy calm mist...

Pinki was a little sheep,because she was so different her mother would not keep. All the other sheep laughed at her, because her fur was so pink.

Sweet dreams are made of murder. . . Six gifted friends have unique abilities, the abilities to enter a person's dreamworld and murder the drwamer. Only this isn't a dream one can wake up from, this is something you can never wake up from. But what happens when a mysterious cloaked figure starts killing off the members of the team? Has a new player joined or is it someone's dream to betray those with power?

From the rescued love passages of the diary: The Magical Crickets of Mogador were dangerous in one sense: once you listen to them they stay inside your skin, and every encounter, every night to go unraveling the moon until dawn, would be brought to light the riotous harmony that vibrates between your cells, like a powerful vacuum that succumbs to the tenderness of your beloved one. That is why, Elf Wizard knew tha for truly love, you must go first to Mogador Gardens.

From the rescued love passages of the diary: The Magical Crickets of Mogador were dangerous in one sense: once you listen to them they stay inside your skin, and every encounter, every night to go unraveling the moon until dawn, would be brought to light the riotous harmony that vibrates between your cells, like a powerful vacuum that succumbs to the tenderness of your beloved one. That is why, Elf Wizard knew tha for truly love, you must go first to Mogador Gardens.

Smoke filled the room, as if it were on fire. Flaming flickers illuminated hands that stayed still as cards dealt themselves. Ale would pour aidless, midair as dark obscure figures laughed at the absurdity of humans. Yet, they must have been humans. With the exception of a rebel flag billowing out one man’s pipe smoke they were awash in manly function; belching in abundance. Coughs rang out loud and frequent, but echoed far past the normal. At times the house would shake with the force of their frivolity. Perhaps flimsy foundation caused instability; perhaps the walls were acoustically inclined? No, it was old but still sturdy. From far out the structure looked abundantly dingier, but closer it was what those with lowered expectations might call cozy. Yet coziness didn't suit the inhabitants; they were harsh men in need of harsh surroundings. Barren deserts would most please them. Grunts soon drawled their way out mouths. Swearing and what must have been insults coalesced. A fight began with the pull of a trigger. A white flash over took, followed by a purple haze. After several more shots fired, the men stopped to observe their deformities. One man clearly sported the head from some type of tuna, another became a large carrot, but the rest were simply garden gnomes. For a while these tuna, carrot and garden gnomes would go back to play cards with one another before popping back to human shape...

I knew one day would come when the computer and the Internet would take over my life. Not only has Internet taken over my life, it has also taken over my computer. I just never knew that day would be today.

Over the hills and far away, we set off for a stroll one day. We passed 'shinybrook' at 'hollin brow knoll' walked to the reservoir and over the toll. We met two hikers and asked them the way, they said carry on and have a nice day. So we did carry on and followed behind, we didn't know where to but we didn't mind. Around the rock face and to the waterfall, then climbing again and that isn't all. At the top of the rock we became a bit daunted the expanse of the moor seemed as though it was haunted, for miles there was nothing but flat marshy land, I felt apprehensive but Hubby took my hand. We struggled and tripped losing footing and grip, hubby fell in the mud but his pants didn't rip. At last we saw fencing and there was a gap, thank god, a road, let's look at the map. We caught sight of the men who had guided us there, sat having a rest one with mud in his hair, we pretended we knew just where we were at and casually said we had enjoyed that. Little did we know we had far to go. We were near to Marsden and to get back to the car, we still had to walk for two hours or more. We met man and wife who told us to climb 100 steps, we took our time. At the top we decided to have our lunch, we sat on a bench and started to munch. Ten minutes later we picked up our bags, we'd eaten our butties and smoked our fags. Now seriously we had to dig in our heels to get back home, the good thing was we had a set of wheels.

THE RELUCTANT TWITTERER AND THE FORCES OF UTUBIA The Reluctant Twitterer is a detective story which invites you to enter a mysterious fantasy world. Readers are caught up with characters struggling with age-old problems in their modern guise. How to distinguish what is real and what is imaginary? Has the internet been taken over by alien invaders from Utobia? Who can be trusted? How can a Snail called Albert help? Will the blog attract other helpers? Will The Reluctant Twitter be able to use Twitter to overcome the dark forces? And above all, how will it turn out in the end? The World is under stealthy attack from the forces of Utubia and their allies the Faceless Warriors. Only one person, known as The Reluctant Twitterer, can thwart their evil schemes. He believes he has a message that if transmitted virally could alert those people around the world whose minds remain their own. But the Utobians and their vile allies are already in thought-control over countless millions of unsuspecting earthlings. Governments have been infiltrated. No news-story can be relied on to tell the truth. Time is running out before the invading forces will claim total victory. Any message must not alert the Utobian Bots and the advance hunters of Faceless Warriors. The Reluctant Twitterer (RT) sets about his quest as cautiously as can...

I never thought that my life could get any worse but it wasn't getting any better.So i try to live my life to a certain extent,if i'm going to go out and have fun i try not to have to much fun because in someway,somehow something always goes wrong if there is a smile on my face and joy in my eye's.I'v learned to live like this for a very long time.18 years to be exact.18 years of heartbreak, heartache,disappointing,disappointment,yelling,crying,hoping to live another life,and so much more and still living this life day by day,and i just want to know how my life COULD be if i could change it..Could it be better?Could it be worse?Who knows.But this..this is my life and not even god could change it for me.