Peghan

The Classic Mistake

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A Writing Lesson by Peghan, literature

Literature

A Writing Lesson

'Do you love me?' She asked, fluttering her long eyelashes.... The teacher slammed his fist down on the table, 'No! That will not do, it's too cliché, too teenage. It won't grab my attention and it won't catch anyone else's.' 'Fine,' He picked up a pen, scratched out his first sentence, and wrote something else, 'That better?' 'Do you hate me?' She asked, fluttering her long eyelashes... 'Much better,' nodded the teacher, 'But how are you going to follow that?' The student looked up at his teacher, sarcasm scratched into his expression, 'How about with 'Yes'?' Rolling his eyes, Sir snorted, 'Am I wasted on you Thompson?

The Body's Play by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Body's Play

'I exist, I am Atlas, I exist, I am Atlas,' Sighs the old man's heart, as she pushes his heavy blood through his arteries and down his veins, 'I exist, I am Atlas.' If she stopped pushing, he would die. 'We protect, we are strong, we protect, we are strong,' Growl his aged skin cells, tied in unison, 'We protect, we are strong.' If they stopped holding, he would disintegrate. 'I am weak, but I'm still here, I am weak, but I'm still here,' Cries the muscle through the noise of the body's song, 'I am weak, but I'm still here.' He is old and stringy now, but once he'd been strong enough to propel the body through the sea and run along

The Young Writer's Dilemma by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Young Writer's Dilemma

The air was nervous in her lungs, and she could barely exhale, 'Can you?' Can you? Can you? It echoed up her throat, pinching her lips. Shaking her head, the other said, 'Can you?' Could she? Could she do it again? Reach into her own soul and open the chasm? Could she pour it all out again, an inky torrent of feeling? Could she allow her hands to be so brave as to tell the story her mouth could not? 'I'm not sure...' And, as she spoke them, she wrote the words down. Just in case she could. 'Why don't you try?' Asked the other, gently. Why was a good question. Gazing at her polka-dot pyjamas she considered it. Why? What was to

What if... by Peghan, literature

Literature

What if...

[What if] s[he'd been] telling [the] truth? Then what does that make you? Utter [demon ? ]s of the human race, [a pointed] gun, a smiling [face.] [A] whispered [li]e in many e[ar]s, a rumour bound to span [for years.] Down t[he] corridors and up the ['s]tairs, [a cold]-war school where no one cares. [Fear]s of getting teased in town, [behind every smile] hides [a] dark frown. I used to think that we were [friend]s, a summer [full of] bright weekends. But that pointed gun, that smiling face, [destroyed] your [soul], your heart, your face. A face, a soul, a [trust] of lace. But what [is] the point of making these black inky tears

...But.... by Peghan, literature

Literature

...But....

The next day, she walked into... ... School... Her home... The Office... And sat down next to her... ....Classmate.... Husband.... Colleague.... Without a word. She put her hands on her knees, and stared into her lap. Outside the weather was.... ...Nice.... Horrid.... Unimportant.... She didn't care. Everything was hurting now but, for a few hours, her life had been.... ....Perfect.... Unblemished.... Hers... Tears began to well in her eyes. Scalding her cheeks, they spilled sluggishly down her face. Embarrassing. Pathetic. Unneeded. Her... ....Classmate.... Husband.... Colleague.... Looked at her with concern and, when he sp

The Paper Ghost by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Paper Ghost

Throwing down her pen in frustration, the Author cried, 'What is it you want?!' The boy standing in the doorway wrung his hands in embarrassment, 'I want a story...' Exhaling deeply, she studied him. Her gaze ran over his soft hair and the slight iridescence of his skin. She noted the odd way that the boy appeared to shimmer like a haze of heat. His eyes were deep and brown, and his lips played the tune of a nervous smile. 'I cannot give you a story,' She said brusquely, 'I am all out of stories! Look at me! I am hollow, I am gone, I am nothing! You want a story?' The Author paused whilst he nodded, 'Then go out and live! Breath

Whimsicality's Argument by Peghan, literature

Literature

Whimsicality's Argument

In my chest, there is a heart, and in my heart, there are two valves, and – in those valves – there is an argument. In one valve sits Whimsicality. Her irises are full of scribbled words, and her lips are splashed with paint. The other valve is home to formality, his face is lain like cracked concrete, and – when he speaks – one can almost imagine his lips being pressed against a vertical knife blade. A clear, sharp edge separating forethought and afterthought. 'We should keep this heart beating steadily,' Drones Formality, 'There will be less chance of the muscle injuring itself if it keeps to the same routine, the sa

Paper Lungs by Peghan, literature

Literature

Paper Lungs

She stood before me, her chest wide open, 'What do you think?' I could not help but to stare. Her heart was beating - literally in front of my eyes - between two paper lungs stained with ink. Blinking, I asked, 'Why are you showing me this?' The girl did not answer. Reaching into her chest, she pulled out a lung, and held it out to me, 'I breathe words,' she whispered, 'This lung is the lung I exhale with. These are the words I breathe.' Taking it, I unfolded the paper lung, and felt millions of alveoli rippling under my fingertips. But there was something wrong. I met her eyes, 'This lung is blank!' 'I know,' she said sorrowf

How to Write a Short Story by Peghan, literature

Literature

How to Write a Short Story

'I am the short story writer,' Announced Death, her blue eyes flashing, 'I work only within tragedy and romance, with the crows and the sinners, for they are easier to condemn. Short stories cannot be complicated, though they can be happy. I can unite lovers, and I can separate them. The story of life must be short, sweet, a few careful lines. It must swim with words like nuances, and nacreous, to add flair and a dash of intellectual salt to my inky soup. My characters, my playing pieces, will remain unnamed, so that I run no risk of growing attached and extending their ill-fated tale. Tears must fall in new and original ways. There cannot

The Hidden Truth of Metaphors by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Hidden Truth of Metaphors

The little girl pointed to a tramp slumped in the unseen depths of the bustling high street, and tugged on her mother's raincoat, 'Mummy,' asked the girl, 'What is that man?' Pulling her daughter along, the mother said, 'He is a metaphor for all that matters in the world, my child, he is an inspiration both to you and me. His life is harsh, and his clothes are caked in mud and mould, but still he carries on. Quivering through existence like the way a candle flame burns on the 24th of December. That man is the key to human endurance.' This answer satisfied the girl, and she did not speak again until she sa

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The Body's Play by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Body's Play

The Young Writer's Dilemma by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Young Writer's Dilemma

What if... by Peghan, literature

Literature

What if...

...But.... by Peghan, literature

Literature

...But....

The Paper Ghost by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Paper Ghost

Whimsicality's Argument by Peghan, literature

Literature

Whimsicality's Argument

Paper Lungs by Peghan, literature

Literature

Paper Lungs

How to Write a Short Story by Peghan, literature

Literature

How to Write a Short Story

The Hidden Truth of Metaphors by Peghan, literature

Literature

The Hidden Truth of Metaphors

Saved by her Depression by Peghan, literature

Literature

Saved by her Depression

The roar of the train filled my ears, causing my head to ring in tune to the pulse of my heart. I didn't take a last breath - I considered it too late for breathing - and stepped off the edge of the station platform. To me it was the edge of the world. The train wailed, and the rails groaned. Around my falling form the rain continued to fall, oblivious to all sorrows but its own. I should've died, but I didn't. Instead I slipped right between the tracks, and fell into white. In the white, there were people. Masked people, dancing people. Happy people. I blinked, my hair was still wet from the downpour of the real world, and water was

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Deviation Spotlight

Leather Bound Birds by Peghan, literature

Literature

Leather Bound Birds

When I met her, it was raining, so I offered my umbrella. 'Here,' I said, touching the girl's wet shoulder lightly, 'Borrow this.' A small smiled fluttered over her face, 'No,' she murmured, 'The rain, it's inspiring.' I didn't understand, 'But, but... You're drenched!' Slowly, she turned to look at me, her eyes were heavy with pity, 'I cannot take up your offer,' she said quietly, 'When the sky is mourning the loss of summer it is only kind to suffer with her. The summer is her child, and every year he vanishes. If we allow ourselves to taste the agony of a grieving mother on our lips, and recognize it for what it truly is, then w

Leather Bound Birds

Peghan

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About Peghan

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

United Kingdom
Deviant for 13 years
peghan.tumblr.com/
She / Her

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Peghan

Sep 29, 2013

Badgers are Cool

0 min read

Hello, I don't know if anyone still watches this account, I've been pretty ploughed under with school work for the last year because I took five a-Levels D: Anyway, I'm going to try and be more back now, I think :) Or try to, because school is school and stuff. Plus I seem to have been abducted by a local museum, we're doing a film and stuff so I'm writing script and museum miscellanea too :) If you like badgers, like Basil the Badger on facebook, because badgers are cool and he has a quest for world domination. That's pretty much the last year summed up :) danke <3

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Peghan

Sep 29, 2013

Badgers are Cool

0 min read

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Peghan

Aug 22, 2012

Second Journal of Backness ^^

0 min read

And still, we have the spellchecker -.- Well, I was reasonably happy until I went downstairs and noticed that all my sisters had drank (drunk??) my supply of coke >.< Coca coala, not like, coke coke. Yeah. But anyway, my family are going to a music festival this weekend, and me and ~Denby-Tea (https://www.deviantart.com/denby-tea) are staying behind dog-baby sitting with nothing but two toblerones, cadbury whole-nut, galaxy, series one and two of the Young Ones and Drop Dead Fred to keep us alive and entertained. Which probably means that we won't survive the weekend ;) If anyone wants to join us then they're perfectly welcome :XD: ^^^^^My life is jampacked full of fun and

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black-neko-nya

Feb 26, 2020

Hi! I’m Raquel~ I don’t mean to intrude, I just have this new book I’m writing called Sunny and Moony and I just really wanted to share it. It’s about the relationship between a sun bunny and moon bunny and the experiences they have together as they evade the dangers of their world.

If you ever feel like it, you can go onto my page to check it out~ Thanks ^v^

www.deviantart.com/black-neko-…