Young Writers Society

Wait... How do change the title of this thread, @Liminality?

If you edit the very first comment you made, you can edit your title.

Thank you @AlmostImmortal!

Of course.

Nice name!

Thank you @AlmostImmortal!

You’re welcome.

I have done PlanMo but they’re in my notebook and it is going to be cold tomorrow… which I hope will not frighten me (It will be like the second or third time I get cold in my life - and that was when I was sick and when I swam at 6 degrees and it started haleing and I had to run inside.

@WeepingWisteria I need you to help me out here, please, maybe post a reminder on my wall. I shall be in need of a reminder in five hours’ time.

@Moonglade, I can do that. Five hours, got it!

An oak swings slowly above my head, leaves drip-dripping with morning dew. My arms cradle the book in my arms and I place it under my head, hoping to fall asleep but the glistening rays of sunrise burn my eyes.

A bird sings a soft song somewhere in the awoken oak tree, the oak tree swinging high above my head. A breeze blows softly, making me shiver. I sit up and listen to it whisper, soft voices trail away through the long grass like sprinkled stardust. “Come with me.”

I perk my head up and watch the stalks of grass blow back slowly. “Little one.”

I stare back over my shoulder, whipping my shoulder length hair away from my face. “Follow me.”

The voice whispers louder, more insistent. I stare at the fields frantically and back up against the tree, voice cracking as I shout, “Who are you?”

But my voice only drifts away on the sullen drafts. “Sit down.” My legs gave way from beneath me and I struggled to open my eyes. “Who are you?”

A feather drifts through the wind and a bird flutters softly through the heavy breaths of air. It’s small feet squeezed my shoulder and its beak opened and closed, “Little one.”

I gasped, mouth agape and searched for the voice. Could a bird really be talking to me. The blue songbird flapped its soft wings and squawked, “Can’t you hear me? I know you can hear me.”

“How… how are y-you speaking?” I mumbled. I must have looked like a crazy woman.

“I always have as you always have. It is a thing of life. To live is to speak and to speak is to live.”

I looked at the bird, considering my choices. Should I really believe this bird was talking? Could a bird really be talking? “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot,” the bird whispered nervously.

But I continued to stare at it and wonder as it wagged its tail up and down, up and down. It narrowed its tiny eyes and chirped, “A hello would be nice.”

“H-hello.”

“Hi,” the songbird sang, “How’d you do? I do fine. That nest in the tree over there is mine. How you do? I do fine.”

I rubbed my neck nervously and blurted out, “Is this a dream?”

The bird stared at me. “I thought we were finally getting off on the right foot,” it wailed and flew away. In complete disbelief I watched its wings like feathered fingers twirl away in the breeze.

6:35 The eggs squalled as they crackled in the pan, I glanced back to make sure they wouldn't burn and quickly stirred milk into the coffee. Dad sat in a leather armchair, newspaper folded on the antique table in front of him.

I pulled the pan off the stove and started buttering the toast, slid on the sunny side eggs and brought it to him with a smile on my face. He glanced at me and said thank you before taking his first sip of coffee. He smacked his lips and opened the local newspaper as was his routine.

I skipped to my room and quickly freshened up after my early morning walk. This morning had been very windy and piles of leaves had lain in the fields where they had fallen from the sighing oak trees, it seems Autumn has finally come and that very soon the cornfields will be bare and muddy.

Rushing to get to work on time I quickly pulled on a white summer dress. Dad called me over quickly and showed me the headline. "Major Rainstorms Forecasted Throughout England". I said goodbye to him and escaped.

18:00. Tommy, my boyfriend, and I are having our date night tomorrow evening and I can't wait. We went on a walk through the park after work and we fed the starlings and finches that had settled around the bird bath.

The sun set early and as we walked through the flickering light of the street lamps Tommy gave me a gentle good-night kiss. I slowly trudged up the steps, feeling butterflies roaring through my stomach. I took a deep breath to calm myself down and opened the front door. I called out but no one answered me.

Walking through to the living room a documentary about WW1 boomed on the television and Dad was lying passed out in the midst of bottle upon bottle of beer all littered across the couch and floor. He woke up and worryingly I helped him into bed.

Hi @Moonglade! Hope I'm not interrupting your thread here ^^ Just wanted to say these snippets you've shared look like a great start! I like that you're experimenting with a diary format. I love your descriptive language as well - you use a lot of strong specific verbs which really tickle the imagination and help me imagine this domestic setting, like eggs that "squall" and "slide" onto a plate.

Also this is just a reminder, if you have your PlanMo in your notebook, you could type it out and upload it as posts in this thread. Linking those posts here can win you a badge for completing some of the journal challenges!

Best of luck with your novel!

Hello @Liminality I think as the month has progressed I’ve drifted further and further away from this unfortunately. I will have to look around and see what I can find. (Everything is in a storm at the moment because the cleaner moved some things around and now I need to figure out my room again.)

@Moonglade Hey no worries! There's always another PlanMo/ NaNo to get those badges. Hope you can find your stuff again soon though!