Her eyes looked over the words on the smooth, thin paper. She tried to imagine a life before, a life where there was nothing but blackness. She thought it would be beautiful, forever living in the midst of an ebony sky. Everyone made white out to be pureness, for light to be health and recovery, but to her, there was no color more poetic and more elegant than black.
Beginning again was an old ritual now. She even kept a duffel bag in the trunk of her beat up Prius, just in case. New places were always magical at first. Then the same old problems would pop up like stubborn weeds in a lily field. Or maybe it was her. It didn’t matter, running away and starting over felt like the only right response.
The honeymoon phase. Everybody goes through it. I went through it. We were riding on the sweet high that love is, until we crashed and burned. He turned to the bottle. I turned to a therapist, but we both remained because of the bitter sweet memories that were from the beginning.
It had just begun, really. It seemed like it was over a long time ago, not that either of them noticed, but it had faded and gone by the wayside like nothing was happening. Nothing was happening. Often, that’s how things end. It was a truth of life that energy displacement over time leads to… nothingness.
The beginning of life. The beginning in which God created man. He made women with the side of man. The beginning of something beautiful. When god was created man he was began something that didn’t quite go as planned. Man soon found free will. They found that you could defy against people. That began the downfall of human race. That also began something more. It showed God we cannot be the perfect people he dreamed we could be.
“Let’s start fresh.” Alice said with a serious look in her eyes.
“(Sigh), Okay.” replied Viktor, conceding as if to reach some sort of unspoken agreement.
“Waiter, we’d like to have two orders of Caesar salad please.”
The word “beginning” is a noun I think. The beginning of the end of our lives…I don’t really know what to write. I don’t know what to write. I don’t what to wriiiiiite.
The rain pattered on the stone walkways between the buildings, themselves built in the same grey stone. On a day like this, everyone would usually keep to the buildings, jumping out into the market under their umbrellas, and then rushing back under cover again, but that morning, they were all in the rain, looking up at the man who was announcing exactly why he was about to jump.
In the beginning…
Well, that’s kind of an old story. Maybe we should try something a little fresher. Something with more pizzazz! The only problem is, hoe do you spice up a classic like that?
Beats me.
From the top now, we’ll go backand start there and see if upon a rewind and restart we don’t see something differently this time. It’s like evolution generally, you don’t have any idea where things will end up, there is no hard set predictability.
It starts the same as any story starts: with a person in distress.
She’s running through the streets, her feet slapping against wet pavement. A car rolls by, she jumps out, trying to get it to stop. It swerves. She screams as she watches it go. She stops and cries, and the rain mingles with the tears on her face. Her hair is a mess. Her clothes are soaked. She lost her shoes a quarter mile back. She is tired, and has given up on running.
She died that day. That’s how she became the hero of this story.
isn’t new beginnings an oxymoron? it is quite definite once something has been started this is a beginning, beginnings are beginnings, therefore there is no new beginning?
new begginggs. that what i think when i think beginings. i can spell i just decide that sixty seconds provide with a sense of urgency that i acannot be bothered wspenfding more one. if this is sixty seconds, it shall be sixty seconds
it is the beginning of a new age. Humans are embarking upon a new world of intelligence and opoen-mindedness, however this does not necessarily lead to the betterment of our world. Too much brains are not much of a good thing.
Here we are again, at the beginning. Here we are, at the second time of me trying to write this out for you, to explain yet again the hotel room, the forest fire, the rude cafeteria woman, and finally the strange noise from next door, until you wake up. This must be the second time I’ve tried to type this out.
Here we are again, at the beginning. This has happened several times, and while some of the small details change, everything else remains the same. The same hotel room, the same wave of fire outside, the same obnoxious woman at the cafeteria, the same strange loud noise coming from next door. And there you are. Again.
So many people look at the beginning of the year, the day, the week, the marriage, the friendship, the month. I think that it is at the end in which we should begin. Where do you want to end up at with all of those? Start there. Work your way backwards to the beginning and reach the goal of the end.
I was hiking in the mountains of iceland, delighting in the falling snow, the white leapords that peppered the field and I wondered if life could get any better. …. could it? as I laid on my back and gazed at the sky, marshmellows began floating down on me…. but they were softer than marshemellows, like cotton. Soft, and mellow….. they made me feel loved.
cracks of light began to penetrate the shadow between the leaves. The forest was becoming alive for another day. I took a deep breath of the cold air, and kicked the mud off my boots.
This was the beginning of something big. Something influential. I stood there in the cold for a moment, staring at the maroon door facing me. I was gilded by the porch light as its golden luminescence shattered the darkness. I watched my breath swirl around as it rapidly condensed and then vapourised. A soft, warm, feminine voice whispered in my ear:
“It’ll be okay, dear.” the woman said, “I’m sure he’ll say yes.”
The hairs at the base of my neck stood on end. I had never had much direct success with her father. He was the rigid, old, traditional father that would put several small pellets into your head if you ever hurt his little girl. Still, he had slightly warmed up to me over the years. Maybe he would indeed say yes.
I sighed, the air in front of my face becoming a honeyed milk of water vapor illuminated in the light. I took to the steps slowly, not knowing how I would fare on the other side of the door. I felt an arm wrap around my own. Those bright blue eyes that I had had the pleasure of seeing for so many years looked at me lovingly. She smiled and nodded towards the door. I reached for the handle, the weight of the world on my hand as I turned it. The door opened after what seemed like forever and I stepped inside. I opened my mouth to speak.
THIS IS NOT THE END, BUT THE BEGINNING, spoke SCIMITAR. I AM THE HARBINGER OF GOOD NEWS AND BAD. I REMAIN NEUTRAL AS THE TIDE TURNS IN ANOTHER’S FAVOR. DO NOT FEAR ME. I SPEAK ONLY THE TRUTH.
“This is not the end, but the beginning?” repeated Shawster, furrowing her brow. “I designed this damn computer! Why is it being so cryptic?”
This word makes me think of things like the start of a life, It is the beginning of your life when you are born. There are beginnings to many things like school, your day and basketball practice. Everything has a beginning.
I woke up in a new world. Was I supposed to remember my last? Was this a mistake? A new beginning for me to change it all. To have a new start and to make new friends and family. I awoke in the middle of a flower field in who knows where. I was guessing I was about 13. I guess we will just have to find out.
It was just the beginning and it felt like it was the end. What happened? Where am I? Where did they take me? How did I get here? What did I do to deserve this? That is all I could think about at this point. They came for me the next morning as I thought. I struggled as they dragged me down the hall.
The beginning of the new world. It was all dark and I felt so very alone. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there in the cold dark in the middle of the night. What could I do? Where could I go? Was anyone else here, was all I was asking myself before thinking that I could be the last one here.
New mercies every morning. A fresh start. The beginning of something. Some days, I’m so glad to leave the past behind. Other’s, I linger in the moments. Savouring. Not wanting a new beginning. Just enjoying what is.
She stood in the doorway, bag over her shoulder as she dared to take the first step. She knew he was still inside sleeping, snoring too damn loud like usual. He wouldn’t know she was gone, she’d be a memory, just like the bruises he left on her skin.
With one last backwards look, she turned and took a step out.
a new start, before the end, fresh, new, starting over, getting to choose new things, brand new,
‘In the beginning, there was darkness-”
Her eyes looked over the words on the smooth, thin paper. She tried to imagine a life before, a life where there was nothing but blackness. She thought it would be beautiful, forever living in the midst of an ebony sky. Everyone made white out to be pureness, for light to be health and recovery, but to her, there was no color more poetic and more elegant than black.
Beginning again was an old ritual now. She even kept a duffel bag in the trunk of her beat up Prius, just in case. New places were always magical at first. Then the same old problems would pop up like stubborn weeds in a lily field. Or maybe it was her. It didn’t matter, running away and starting over felt like the only right response.
The honeymoon phase. Everybody goes through it. I went through it. We were riding on the sweet high that love is, until we crashed and burned. He turned to the bottle. I turned to a therapist, but we both remained because of the bitter sweet memories that were from the beginning.
It had just begun, really. It seemed like it was over a long time ago, not that either of them noticed, but it had faded and gone by the wayside like nothing was happening. Nothing was happening. Often, that’s how things end. It was a truth of life that energy displacement over time leads to… nothingness.
The day she was born was just the beginning of something beautiful. She would grow up and become a lovely young lady, or not. We may never know.
one who hates woman
The beginning of life. The beginning in which God created man. He made women with the side of man. The beginning of something beautiful. When god was created man he was began something that didn’t quite go as planned. Man soon found free will. They found that you could defy against people. That began the downfall of human race. That also began something more. It showed God we cannot be the perfect people he dreamed we could be.
So no matter what I choose, anonymous or registered, it’ll just take me back to the beginning. In more ways than o
“Let’s start fresh.” Alice said with a serious look in her eyes.
“(Sigh), Okay.” replied Viktor, conceding as if to reach some sort of unspoken agreement.
“Waiter, we’d like to have two orders of Caesar salad please.”
The word “beginning” is a noun I think. The beginning of the end of our lives…I don’t really know what to write. I don’t know what to write. I don’t what to wriiiiiite.
Hey friends, i’m beginning study english. How can you help me in this journey?
The rain pattered on the stone walkways between the buildings, themselves built in the same grey stone. On a day like this, everyone would usually keep to the buildings, jumping out into the market under their umbrellas, and then rushing back under cover again, but that morning, they were all in the rain, looking up at the man who was announcing exactly why he was about to jump.
In the beginning…
Well, that’s kind of an old story. Maybe we should try something a little fresher. Something with more pizzazz! The only problem is, hoe do you spice up a classic like that?
Beats me.
From the top now, we’ll go backand start there and see if upon a rewind and restart we don’t see something differently this time. It’s like evolution generally, you don’t have any idea where things will end up, there is no hard set predictability.
It starts the same as any story starts: with a person in distress.
She’s running through the streets, her feet slapping against wet pavement. A car rolls by, she jumps out, trying to get it to stop. It swerves. She screams as she watches it go. She stops and cries, and the rain mingles with the tears on her face. Her hair is a mess. Her clothes are soaked. She lost her shoes a quarter mile back. She is tired, and has given up on running.
She died that day. That’s how she became the hero of this story.
There is nothing quite as difficult as beginning. But in cases like this, who cares how–just do.
Is this the beginning of the end?
There are so many bad news coming up all day long.
It feels like the apocalypse is approaching is soon.
isn’t new beginnings an oxymoron? it is quite definite once something has been started this is a beginning, beginnings are beginnings, therefore there is no new beginning?
mind you i’m no plato
new begginggs. that what i think when i think beginings. i can spell i just decide that sixty seconds provide with a sense of urgency that i acannot be bothered wspenfding more one. if this is sixty seconds, it shall be sixty seconds
it is the beginning of a new age. Humans are embarking upon a new world of intelligence and opoen-mindedness, however this does not necessarily lead to the betterment of our world. Too much brains are not much of a good thing.
Here we are again, at the beginning. Here we are, at the second time of me trying to write this out for you, to explain yet again the hotel room, the forest fire, the rude cafeteria woman, and finally the strange noise from next door, until you wake up. This must be the second time I’ve tried to type this out.
Here we are again, at the beginning. This has happened several times, and while some of the small details change, everything else remains the same. The same hotel room, the same wave of fire outside, the same obnoxious woman at the cafeteria, the same strange loud noise coming from next door. And there you are. Again.
So many people look at the beginning of the year, the day, the week, the marriage, the friendship, the month. I think that it is at the end in which we should begin. Where do you want to end up at with all of those? Start there. Work your way backwards to the beginning and reach the goal of the end.
I was hiking in the mountains of iceland, delighting in the falling snow, the white leapords that peppered the field and I wondered if life could get any better. …. could it? as I laid on my back and gazed at the sky, marshmellows began floating down on me…. but they were softer than marshemellows, like cotton. Soft, and mellow….. they made me feel loved.
cracks of light began to penetrate the shadow between the leaves. The forest was becoming alive for another day. I took a deep breath of the cold air, and kicked the mud off my boots.
she didn’t know where to start.
“so what exactly am i doing?”
the buzzer went off.
“oh fuck.”
This was the beginning of something big. Something influential. I stood there in the cold for a moment, staring at the maroon door facing me. I was gilded by the porch light as its golden luminescence shattered the darkness. I watched my breath swirl around as it rapidly condensed and then vapourised. A soft, warm, feminine voice whispered in my ear:
“It’ll be okay, dear.” the woman said, “I’m sure he’ll say yes.”
The hairs at the base of my neck stood on end. I had never had much direct success with her father. He was the rigid, old, traditional father that would put several small pellets into your head if you ever hurt his little girl. Still, he had slightly warmed up to me over the years. Maybe he would indeed say yes.
I sighed, the air in front of my face becoming a honeyed milk of water vapor illuminated in the light. I took to the steps slowly, not knowing how I would fare on the other side of the door. I felt an arm wrap around my own. Those bright blue eyes that I had had the pleasure of seeing for so many years looked at me lovingly. She smiled and nodded towards the door. I reached for the handle, the weight of the world on my hand as I turned it. The door opened after what seemed like forever and I stepped inside. I opened my mouth to speak.
“Mr. Robinson, I’d like to ask you something…”
THIS IS NOT THE END, BUT THE BEGINNING, spoke SCIMITAR. I AM THE HARBINGER OF GOOD NEWS AND BAD. I REMAIN NEUTRAL AS THE TIDE TURNS IN ANOTHER’S FAVOR. DO NOT FEAR ME. I SPEAK ONLY THE TRUTH.
“This is not the end, but the beginning?” repeated Shawster, furrowing her brow. “I designed this damn computer! Why is it being so cryptic?”
This word makes me think of things like the start of a life, It is the beginning of your life when you are born. There are beginnings to many things like school, your day and basketball practice. Everything has a beginning.
Every beginning is a new beginning when the bitter past is forgotten.
I woke up in a new world. Was I supposed to remember my last? Was this a mistake? A new beginning for me to change it all. To have a new start and to make new friends and family. I awoke in the middle of a flower field in who knows where. I was guessing I was about 13. I guess we will just have to find out.
It was just the beginning and it felt like it was the end. What happened? Where am I? Where did they take me? How did I get here? What did I do to deserve this? That is all I could think about at this point. They came for me the next morning as I thought. I struggled as they dragged me down the hall.
The beginning of the new world. It was all dark and I felt so very alone. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there in the cold dark in the middle of the night. What could I do? Where could I go? Was anyone else here, was all I was asking myself before thinking that I could be the last one here.
Every beginning is a new beginning when bitter old is forgotten.
in the beginning, i felt troubled. sleep was seldom and riddled with nightmares of falling, or being chased, or fighting for my life.
In the beginning, there was nothing. Or was it, the Allspark? Wait a minute, how can the universe START with nothing? Its a paradox
New mercies every morning. A fresh start. The beginning of something. Some days, I’m so glad to leave the past behind. Other’s, I linger in the moments. Savouring. Not wanting a new beginning. Just enjoying what is.
It was a beginning.
But it was also an ending.
She stood in the doorway, bag over her shoulder as she dared to take the first step. She knew he was still inside sleeping, snoring too damn loud like usual. He wouldn’t know she was gone, she’d be a memory, just like the bruises he left on her skin.
With one last backwards look, she turned and took a step out.
It was a beginning.
This is the beginning. The start. The first step. You are the earliest bird of the day. Get up. Get out. Get going.