Writelifting Sep 2

Writelifting is the writing of a partial or whole story, using five given, random words and a random first sentence.  You write as long as you feel the need, or you have used all of the words.

I’m a messy writer at the moment.  It shows that it has been a while. That’s why I ask forgiveness for my many mistakes.  I am liking the story, I could find behind what I wrote.  That is why I do not want to change much


words to use: blue, fear, dolls, song, pretty
first sentence: No man can tell me what to do..

Please share your thoughts and comments!


“No man can tell me what to do!”
My hands move over these words written in the book, that’s resting on my lap.  My great grandmother started the tradition. Today, on the eve of my wedding day, it is my turn to read what was left by those who came before me.  After that I am to leave my mark, by writing in it.   Great granny however, was a strong woman and I still don’t know if I am doing the right thing by marrying this man, I’ve never met before.
Why would a sane 25 year old woman marry a man, she does not know?  Sane might be the key word here.

Ever since my powers grew, fear made me unable to meet people.  I can’t remember when my song became more important than me, but people quit seeing me as a person.  They want me as a tool and soon after that I started avoiding others.

That is why my sister decided that on my 25th birthday, I would wedd a man.  Honestly, I feel like running away. She would only bring me back, that’s what her powers do.  She can locate people.

Me?  I can see people for who they really are.  They look like dolls and monsters. However when I sing I see pasts and futures.
Nothing to be scared about you’d say, but I always see the best and the worst moments.  And you can’t believe how many thieves and murderers there are in this world.

I wonder what my husband will look like.  Can you imagine having to look at some horrible monster for the rest of your life?  Let alone do other things,..  I cringe, thinking about it.
His name is Ryan.  Ryan Bluewell.  I turn around looking at the pretty, blue weddinggown, hanging on the rack behind me.  It’s his family’s tradition that the bride wears a blue dress.  Somehow, I have a funny feeling about this whole thing. I’ve been researching that family and they are descendants from the watertribe, I wonder if they still have powers, just like we do.

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