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Trying something new........this is the manuscript for a biblically analogous picture book.
I don't know if I will take the time to draw pictures or just write a series of manuscripts.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1avC28CX_WqKVs0ALcMLEJ3D8lU4pHr1eEZWPkOkzUgI/edit?usp=sharing
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Just a little poem that came to me when I got home. As a Catholic I see the Eucharist as not just the tiny piece of bread I receive every Sunday but as a way of life, a call to love sacrificially. This piece is heavily inspired by my parents, whose devotion to living a Eucharistic life sustained them through the best and worst of times together while they raised me and my siblings. Let me know what you think and don’t be afraid to critique the flow or other elements of the poem, I’m still new to this genre!
This is my body, this is my blood
She says without words from the day she gives us life into the late years of our childhood
This is my body this is my blood
He says without words as he works himself to the bone day and night to ensure…
A beautiful look at parental sacrifices and loss. You've shown us and incarnation of the of the eucharist. Thanks for sharing
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We work together.
We are one.
When did we stop being individuals?
Were we ever?
Yes. In the beginning.
But not really.
😮Way to go! This skin sack thinks that this poem is great. Gonna have to reread it many times to take it all in.
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“Let us adjourn to my solar, my lord.” Tanil invited, gesturing towards his large villa, “I am sure your journey has made you thirsty for something far stronger than water, perhaps.” “Indeed it has, your highness.” Chortled Barator, never a man to turn down an offer of wine or ale. The Dunyar were known for their creation of a most unique form of ale called Rukir, a much sought after imbibement for those of expensive taste which was exported to various parts of the world. Being himself quite partial to it, he could not help but hope this would be served. A few moments later the three lords were seated at a large round table under the shade of several tall trees, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day. The terrace was lined with ornately sculpted balustrades of white marble, yet another reminder of the expert handiwork of…
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She remembered when the laughter faded, how everything changed. It wasn't a sudden silence, but a slow ebb, like the tide pulling away from the shore, leaving behind only wet sand and the faint tang of the sea. What was left was a residue that tasted of salt, bitter and sharp like glass on the back of your throat. The slow realization of it had dawned with such clarity, revealing a landscape utterly different than the one she had believed in. She knew then, with a certainty that pierced through years of self deception, that the man she had shared her life with was a stranger, and the life she thought was theirs had been hers alone. The question was not how it had happened, but what she would do now with the persistent ache that had settled deep within her. She needed to shake it.
She perched on the…
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Written by Isaiah - posted by Nate
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This story is by Isaiah and has been posted before. This one has the correct formatting. (posted by Nate)
I really like the imagery of giant slugs invading village after village. This story has a "boy who cried wolf" (but reversed) vibe. Made some suggestions on the doc.