Autistic Writing Novels & Stories

The children noticed subtle changes: a softer tone here, a brief moment of laughter there, the beginnings of apologies and acknowledgment of harm. Mathapelo began writing in her journal, a practice she had abandoned long ago. Each entry became a mirror, reflecting her fears, regrets, and small victories. She documented her interactions with her children, her attempts at patience, and her moments of relapse. Slowly, the writing became a lifeline, a bridge between self-destruction and conscious effort.

he flashes a comical glare towards Dakota, his behaviour friendly as if he were trying to appease any worries that I may have about them, “-how’re you feeling?” Opening the notepad, I reach the first clean page and click the lid of my pen. Clasping it shakily, I scribble away, trying to keep my writing readable as it appears to resemble that of a toddler’s compared to my own usual neat handwriting. Pressing down hard as if learning to write all over again, I restrain the urge of sticking my tongue out in concentration before thankfully penning the simple response of, “sore”. “I bet you do, little wolf,” he remarks agreeably.

She's being harsh because she cares. Alyssa pursed her lips, feeling the burning sensation in her throat from shouting at Landon too loudly just now. Her words were truly harsh, but she was just afraid that something might happen to Lauren. She didn't mean to separate them, but their current way of interacting was clearly unhealthy. Lauren's condition prevented her from having control of their relationship, so she had to wake Landon up. Otherwise, unintentional hurt would be inflicted constantly. "Autism can be divided into hyper-sensitivity and hypo-sensitivity. Unfortunately, Lauren is the former. It's often because her thoughts are too delicate, her empathy is stronger than ordinary peopl

His sunken eyes and hollow cheeks made him seem frail as paper. My heart ached—had I known he was alive, I'd have searched everywhere for him. The ink was ready. Cedric began to write. His fingers, deformed from malnutrition and abuse, struggled to hold the pen. I guided his hand to steady it. After a few minutes, he began to write slowly, each stroke laborious. Writing seemed like a real struggle for him. He just couldn't seem to apply enough strength. It took nearly a minute for him to scrawl out a word, "lollipop."

Work took the better of it as if there was nothing there to strike a chord and tell me that I used to write as spirited as before. The years between this piece and the one prior to it was devoted mainly to writing using a different language and syntax. Sentences usually start with an equal sign to prompt the application to compute or automate something. Every little thing at work involving columns, rows or cells was solved using Microsoft Excel. Thus, the literary writing hiatus must have been temporarily called off and replaced with its numeric, logical or conditional counterpart owing to the demands of work.

"Medical stuff that's not like cancer. It's not necessarily a terminal illness." She turns her gaze back down to the notebook in her lap, her fingers doing that snapping thing. "I have, ummm..." Her head drops to the side. "I'm autistic." The words seem to drop from her lips like lead weights. "Actually, I'm AuDHD. It's not actually a technical term but I'm autistic and I have ADHD." Her eyes lock onto her hands. Silence envelopes us for a moment and she seems to be waiting with bated breath.

"I'm sorry, Hail for not protecting you more." "I am already protected by you… I feel safe when you are around. I know that you will save me." *** Brandy was checking out his arm. It was healed. It wasn't that broken, and Allison had an x-ray in her own office. She's well organized with everything well planned. He is still observing her but—she's the very different aspie. She's like a robot. A high functional autism—most of them are geniuses. Interacting is their main problem.

Sometimes even when I'm lazy to type, I shorten the words, if there's something crazy, it's really funny. But writing a letter makes me feel like I came from a different universe, I don't know or understand anything. There are rules and etiquette to remember and follow, correct spelling, beautiful penmanship, and correct salutation. I'm not good at writing, but when it comes to reading, of course, that's a different matter. And I have the worst handwriting ever! It's like a storm, chickens, and rats passed through. Janna and Mary always tease me because they don't understand what I write, I always write in cursive so even sometimes I don't understand either.

Lol. When I decided to write ‘Finding Us’, I told myself I was going to give it my all, despite the short amount of time I had to write it. Its former version, ‘Crazy About Boys | Finding The One’ a.k.a. ‘C. A. B.’, was a display of my amateurish writing and thinking — this, however, doesn’t mean ‘Finding Us’ portrays the highest level of professionalism or intelligence. This simply means I wrote ‘C. A. B.’ with my mind and ‘Finding Us’ with my heart.

Autism patients can also do a simple communication, but over time their brain will have varying degrees of impact, the five senses degradation. Elis could not imagine how much effort William put in when Bruce was just suffering from autism to make him willing to use words to communicate, and also let him know and learn from healthy children of the same age even when he was autistic. How he taught him to familiarize certain topics and words mastered.