The sweat on his brow accumulates, forcing him to wipe it away. Come on, Birdie, don't make me do this. She stands and rests, her body firmly in the heels of her feet, her evening gown sparkling underneath the romantic sensation of the candlelights. The dining room collapses as uncertainty brushes the hairs on the back of his neck like a gentle breeze. Cliff, I told you once I won't say it again, Birdie says. Sirens are heard building from a distance
Nicole Baxter
@Nik_Can_Write · 4:24
I know I posted a different swell a while back, but I feel like I want to be more active on this platform, and I want to continue creating stories like the one I just recorded. And I feel like it's a great way to exercise my writing skills since I claim myself to be a writer. So I feel like this is a good way to flex my muscles, my writing muscles. So Birdie and Cliff is a flash fiction story based in the 60s
Lori Motola
@FreeYourFlow · 1:09
Hi, Nick. It's cool to find a screenwriter or, I don't know, aspiring screenwriter. I don't know you well enough. But it's cool to find, you know, different writers other than poets on here. You're the first that I've seen, although I've just started looking, I wanted to, I don't know, just say props for posting. And I kind of like this as a little way to make ourselves accountable if you continue to post
Nicole Baxter
@Nik_Can_Write · 1:44
You. Thank you for replying. As artists, I do think we do put a lot of pressure on ourselves and each other, because I know from my personal experience, I get stuck in my head, and it's like, if I can't produce what's in my head, then for some reason, I feel discouraged