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Literature Text
He poked the earth with his stick. "Change me," he demanded. It made no sound, and he stomped his foot in irritation. "Change me!" he repeated, stomping his foot lightly.
"No."
The word hung in the air; he scowled, and stomped home.
The earth stood still; but not. Ants marched across its surface, carrying bits of leaves. Animals wandered about, skipping around twigs. The sun moved, and the shadows with it, and later the moon. The day passed; the boy came back, and dropped a furit on the ground.
"Now change me!"
"No."
"Why not?" he demanded, sitting on the floor. He prodded the ground with his finger, refusing to accept its silence. "Why won't you change meee!?"
"Because you're too young. Too rash; to brash. Because you do not know what you want, yet."
"I know I want this," he muttered, shifting about. He glanced up at the sky, lying down on the ground. "Mom says you were never good at doing things quickly, though…"
"Your mother is right; think on it. On what you want. Changing too quickly can lead to something you don't like."
"And changing too late can simply cause pain." That came from above. A wind that rustled through his hair, cooling his skin until it pimpled. "Changing too late is almost as bad as not changing at all; years of feeling out of place."
"But making the wrong move can destroy one," whispered the earth; quiet and firm warming the bottom of his backside. "Stay as you are; change takes time."
"But I don't want it to…" The voice was a whisper, which seemed to surprise even him; both the air and the earth went silent, leaving him alone with his thoughts, regardless of whether he actually wanted to have them. The sign dipped, the moose rose, and the stars lit up the sky. He reached towards them, cupping his hands as if to catch their light. "Who's right?" he demanded.
The starlight didn't respond. He scowled and released his hands, letting it all go, and dipping his eyes down, downt o the ant crawling past his feet. "I'm crazy, you know," he told it. "Because I want to change. And because I talk to the Earth and Wind, too, but mostly because I want to change. But I… want…" he put a finger on his chest. "it hurts. That I can't. So I want to. But I'm scared. So maybe I won't"
The ant was as silent as the starlight, moving past his feet, and going into the world. The other animals ignored him as well; even the earth and the sky were silent, leaving him to himself; leaving him to brood,staring up, and then glancing down, moving about, and running his hadns trhoguh his hair. He made a sound of annoyance with himself, touching his hair, his cheeks, his skin; it wasn't right. None of fit him. All of it made him feel odd, and uncomfortable. His skin should be smoother; his hair should be longer. His cheeks should be… different. Just different. He needed a change.
"I want to change," he repeated, speaking out loud. Nothing moved at his declaration, nothing shifted beneath his feet. He stood, remembering the first time his mother had taken him into the field; the moment she had told him he had the power to Speak, and that sometimes he would have to make his will known./ Grounding his feet into the dirt, he lfited his chin, angling his face into the coming wind that blew remorselessly past. "I want to change!" he screamed into it. He didn't stomp his foot, but grounded both further into the ground. "I demand to change!"
The wind died. The earth held no warmth. The absolute lack of a response hung in the balance, the unnatural quiet threatening to break, all depending on what he said next.
"I want to be myself."
The sun crested the earth in a brilliant sunrise, searing against the plain and warming the dirt beneath his feet, its heat flowing up its body. The wind threw itself at him, catching at his hair and pulling it far into the distance, the entire length of his body. He felt softer; different, with the wind catching at him, beneath his clothes, canceling out the warmth of earth and sun. Nothing seemed different, other than his hair; everything felt different.
He took a step forward, and then paused, clutched his thighs closer together to feel the distinct lack; giggled a little, pulling at his shorts to confirm the new form without touching.
She giggled, running, the warm beating its warmth beneath her feet, the air tickling at her hair, the starlight playing against her smooth and shiny skin, and her hair tumbling in a wave behind her as she moved, coming down in a cascade around her as she gripped the door to her house.
Her mother looked up from the counter as she entered, with a smile, that she hastily replaced with a scowl. "Jenny, what have I told you about playing in the park too late?"
"Sorry Mom," she whispered, smiling brightly. "I needed a change."
"No."
The word hung in the air; he scowled, and stomped home.
The earth stood still; but not. Ants marched across its surface, carrying bits of leaves. Animals wandered about, skipping around twigs. The sun moved, and the shadows with it, and later the moon. The day passed; the boy came back, and dropped a furit on the ground.
"Now change me!"
"No."
"Why not?" he demanded, sitting on the floor. He prodded the ground with his finger, refusing to accept its silence. "Why won't you change meee!?"
"Because you're too young. Too rash; to brash. Because you do not know what you want, yet."
"I know I want this," he muttered, shifting about. He glanced up at the sky, lying down on the ground. "Mom says you were never good at doing things quickly, though…"
"Your mother is right; think on it. On what you want. Changing too quickly can lead to something you don't like."
"And changing too late can simply cause pain." That came from above. A wind that rustled through his hair, cooling his skin until it pimpled. "Changing too late is almost as bad as not changing at all; years of feeling out of place."
"But making the wrong move can destroy one," whispered the earth; quiet and firm warming the bottom of his backside. "Stay as you are; change takes time."
"But I don't want it to…" The voice was a whisper, which seemed to surprise even him; both the air and the earth went silent, leaving him alone with his thoughts, regardless of whether he actually wanted to have them. The sign dipped, the moose rose, and the stars lit up the sky. He reached towards them, cupping his hands as if to catch their light. "Who's right?" he demanded.
The starlight didn't respond. He scowled and released his hands, letting it all go, and dipping his eyes down, downt o the ant crawling past his feet. "I'm crazy, you know," he told it. "Because I want to change. And because I talk to the Earth and Wind, too, but mostly because I want to change. But I… want…" he put a finger on his chest. "it hurts. That I can't. So I want to. But I'm scared. So maybe I won't"
The ant was as silent as the starlight, moving past his feet, and going into the world. The other animals ignored him as well; even the earth and the sky were silent, leaving him to himself; leaving him to brood,staring up, and then glancing down, moving about, and running his hadns trhoguh his hair. He made a sound of annoyance with himself, touching his hair, his cheeks, his skin; it wasn't right. None of fit him. All of it made him feel odd, and uncomfortable. His skin should be smoother; his hair should be longer. His cheeks should be… different. Just different. He needed a change.
"I want to change," he repeated, speaking out loud. Nothing moved at his declaration, nothing shifted beneath his feet. He stood, remembering the first time his mother had taken him into the field; the moment she had told him he had the power to Speak, and that sometimes he would have to make his will known./ Grounding his feet into the dirt, he lfited his chin, angling his face into the coming wind that blew remorselessly past. "I want to change!" he screamed into it. He didn't stomp his foot, but grounded both further into the ground. "I demand to change!"
The wind died. The earth held no warmth. The absolute lack of a response hung in the balance, the unnatural quiet threatening to break, all depending on what he said next.
"I want to be myself."
The sun crested the earth in a brilliant sunrise, searing against the plain and warming the dirt beneath his feet, its heat flowing up its body. The wind threw itself at him, catching at his hair and pulling it far into the distance, the entire length of his body. He felt softer; different, with the wind catching at him, beneath his clothes, canceling out the warmth of earth and sun. Nothing seemed different, other than his hair; everything felt different.
He took a step forward, and then paused, clutched his thighs closer together to feel the distinct lack; giggled a little, pulling at his shorts to confirm the new form without touching.
She giggled, running, the warm beating its warmth beneath her feet, the air tickling at her hair, the starlight playing against her smooth and shiny skin, and her hair tumbling in a wave behind her as she moved, coming down in a cascade around her as she gripped the door to her house.
Her mother looked up from the counter as she entered, with a smile, that she hastily replaced with a scowl. "Jenny, what have I told you about playing in the park too late?"
"Sorry Mom," she whispered, smiling brightly. "I needed a change."
Literature
TG - Clearbrook Part 3
The party was just as I expected: a bunch of parrotheads, throwin' back Margaritas and trying to get us all to loosen up. I guess they were all finally excited to be out in the apartments and living like adults again. I did find a small, quiet blond woman in the group to talk to, though. Her name was Meaghan, and she was just sipping the same Margarita all night. I was doing the same. The rest of the group seemed to be living it up, but not consuming too much as we had tests tomorrow.
After introductions, she said to me "So, how are the estrogen treatments going? Feeling different?"
"Well, yeah, y
Literature
Which is better tg
Dustin and Giga were walking home from school one day. I wonder, which is better, being male, or being female, asked Dustin. Being a male is better, you dont have as many problems as a girl, Giga responded. What? A girl is better. You get boys to do stuff for you, countered Dustin. Giga looked thoughtful for a minute, and then said, How about a deal. We go to a store, buy a few items that have magical properties, and see who can last a month in the opposite gender. What do you say? Dustin thinks about it, Fine. The next day, which was a Saturday, Dustin and Giga go to the mall.
Literature
Deodorant TG
Joe sighed as he looked in the mirror - getting ready for a date just took too much some times in his opinion. He'd had a long day and the train back from work had been packed, and even after a long shower he felt he still needed that little bit extra to freshen up. Bending down, he grabbed a can of deodorant from the shelf under the sink and shook it well. From the rattle it sounded nearly empty, but there was enough for what he needed.
He gave a quick burst under each arm and across his body and took a sniff. He hardly noticed any difference in his personal odour so decided to give another spray.
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Fun fact; Sometimes? When i'm writing? I have noooo idea what i'm doing. >,>
I only wrote one page of haunted, and it might need rewriting` later - i'm less than certain about it, but i'm still getting a feel for the story line i'm writing.
I only wrote one page of haunted, and it might need rewriting` later - i'm less than certain about it, but i'm still getting a feel for the story line i'm writing.
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sweet XD