FictionPress

It seems that the wind is very angry and whips whacky objects such as trees, houses, cars. The clouds are black and big, choking the sun and suppressing that light. Thunder swayed the ground and hit the air with a huge explosion, and the lightning interwoven a fatal dance into the ebony sky. The rain is very intense - raging the ground, cross the ground, pass the ugly black trail, pick up dirt and dirt, take it to another place

I stood outside for an hour and saw it. I do not know the reason - I am cold, wet and miserable. Maybe ... maybe it's all saturated, just like it. Probably because of that physical and wonderful glory. Perhaps during the heavy rain, I remembered the simple fact that there is no hope without pain and fear.

In the confusion of the thunderstorms, we all know that the grass will become more green tomorrow, the plants become stronger, and the trees will become even more rich.

From destruction to death, from death to resurrection. Playback leads to destruction, leads to death, leads to regeneration.

Life is like an infinite cycle. Destruction, death, and resurrection lead the way, hidden behind a seemingly complex look, a small decision, and unnecessary joy and sorrow. There are actually only three in existence in this world.

Last night I saw the rain washed away the simple chalk paintings the children drew on the sidewalk tomorrow I saw singing quietly when she scribbled a new design on her coarse black canvas.

A few years ago I shut down my FictionPress account - I used the fire of justice to clean up the abdominal network I was posting there. I infer that I am a serious writer. I just won the BBC writer room competition, now is the time for me to move forward, there is no concern about a teen vampire school shooter and a Deformed Dragon Spitfire pilot (seriously a dragon) . Will not humbly smolder at least make it somewhat redundant? ! My reputation fell down. That's it, I say to myself, the stars are waiting

The importance of reading your past or burning old sentences like the old dick

So my parents forbade me to enter MySpace, monitor my AIM chat, and oversee my NeoPets account. But, it does not stop posting political poems inspired by Green Day on my FictionPress page, or writing short stories about Harry Potter for FanFiction.net using anonymous screen names (If you do not know, LibyanPrincess92). These sites, like me, connect me to other teenagers who read and write during the lunch break at school libraries and avoid eye contact and social interaction with other students. I form a friend in the comment section, not in the cafeteria, and sympathize with my network compatriots. Because they sympathize with the obedience of junior high school culture and alienation from our mainstream society. These people are more intimate and real than those who follow the exclusive policy of the campus group.

Currently, the Internet makes distribution and distribution of original content easier and more accessible, so there are many websites promoting serial format. LiveJournal, Fictionpress, and fictionhub. As seen on sites such as FanFiction.net, Archive of Our Own, Wattpad, the rise of Fanfiction and amateur (but prolific) writers has created a whole new and very popular niche in the literary community. As it continues to exist as an attractive literary model, why the appearance of Victorian comic strips may not make sense - it is easy to gather more modern interpretations. First, because the modern media consumers easily access a wide variety of content and playback content which is a drama plot, the nature of "easy to ingest" is a viewer with a narrower range of attention and multimedia It is naturally suited to. Consumed