Free Write Contest--Winner gets 10k

I will

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[G-chan san]

Here's my entry. Hope you like it! smile

Changing Seasons

I walk along this lovely path,
next to flowers of time gone past.
The trees spread the pollen,
making them bloom.
There seems to be not a sign,
of your impending doom.
I see you on the end,
the space stretching between us.
All I wanted was to lay in the field.
With you. With you.
The sky turns red,
and the colors invert.
I fall, but instead of you,
there's only the cold, lonely dirt.
The flower petals wither,
the leaves fade away.
Why wasn't I with you,
on that fateful day?
Your image walks closer. Are you real?
No. Gone, gone. Just like summer, like tears,
like smiles.
This wasn't what I wanted.
You touch my face, and your eyes stab into me,
like daggers on my skin.
I miss you. I miss you.
But the icy wind speaks, and blows your presence away.
I'll wake up,
in the frigid, dead field.
Cold, alone.....
All that's left is the snow.

[Eternal Unrest]

I had one that I really wanted to post but it was too long ;.;

"Daemon"

Daemon’s calm dark eyes scanned the club for any appetizing prey; so far there weren’t any. He scowled darkly in the dim light to himself. His partner, James, always got on him for being so picky.

As his eyes scanned the room for possibly the tenth time, he spotted her.

She was on a platform, dancing to the beat, her eyes closed blissfully. Her hips swayed gracefully, her arms raised high above her.

Daemon watched in utter fascination as her small frame twisted like a sidewinder. The lights danced off her porcelain skin; green, blue, purple, and pink.

Daemon ran his tongue gingerly over his sharp teeth, so as not to cut it. He hated it when that happened.

Daemon, you there?”

Daemon snapped back into reality. James stood in front of him, a couple slutty-looking strippers under his arm and a lazy smirk plastered on his face. Daemon smelled lust on the girls. It was so strong he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Looks like you found some people.” Daemon noted, nodding towards the girls, continuously looking back at the graceful dancer that had caught his eye. James followed his gaze.

“Looks like you did, too.” His smirk grew wider. “Call my cell if you need me.” He walked off with the girls.

Turning his special vision on the girl, he soon found out her name was Belle.

Belle…beautiful…he mused, remembering the name from a recent trip to France. And indeed she was beautiful.

As a song by Combichrist ended, Belle jumped off the platform. Daemon quickly stood and, keeping an eye on her, found her location. At the bar sipping from a water bottle.

As he sat next to her, he inhaled and almost sighed; her scent was intoxicating. His mouth slightly watered.

“I saw you dancing earlier.” He started calmly. Belle looked u from her bottle.

“You liked it?” she asked, her tone inviting.

“You were amazing.” He gave her a sly smile as he studied her. Her chest-length black hair obscured part of her face a bit, but he could notice the bright blue eyes behind the hair. She wore a white long sleeve button up shirt with flared out sleeves, a red plaid Tripp skirt, and knee high boots with buckles. A little bit of eyeliner was swiped under her eyes.

“He leaned into her ear. “You’re beautiful.” He murmured. With his heightened senses he felt her shudder. He smirked and pulled away. She looked at him, then smirked herself. She hopped off the stool and jumped back on the platform. She gave a different dance for a Rammstein song, but instead of keeping her eyes closed she kept looking his way. He stood and walked to the couch in front of the platform Belle was on. He sat down and stretched out, on leg on the couch. She smiled and continued dancing, closing her eyes once again.

When the song ended Belle stepped off the platform. A girl squealed as another song came on and jumped on the once occupied platform, dancing.

Daemon watched Belle’s advance towards him. Gently, he pulled her into his lap and kissed her. She kissed back with a little more force and it soon became a makeout, a private tongue-war in their mouths.

Daemon’s hands roved up and down her body, tracing every curve. She in turn ran her hand through his shoulder length black hair.

After about 5 minutes she paused and lifted her head up for air. In a second Daemon’s lips claimed Belle’s once again. He felt her tense, but soon relaxed in his arms.

“I want you.” He hissed in her ear, his breathing heavy and his tone husky. She chuckled.

“So soon?” she replied, kissing his neck lightly. He groaned, then stood. He carried her to another room. As he passed the busy rooms he felt James in one.

Finding a vacant room he closed the door with his foot. In here, the light wasn’t as erratic and the music was softer. He threw her on the bed and seductively climbed over her. She watched him with a smile, and he loved how willing she was.

Demon couldn’t have sex with humans, but they always tried to get as close as they could get.

“Better?” she asked, and he grinned, revealing his fangs. He kissed her hard, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Breaking the kiss as she pulled it off let him see the bloodred lacy bra that was once underneath. He vaguely wondered if she had matching panties.

She threw herself on him, kissing his neck with little butterfly kisses. He groaned. “tease.” He growled.

She let out a laugh. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his neck. “Is that what you wanted?” she asked. He breathed heavily in response.

He held her hips and she wiggled, making him chuckle. He unzipped her skirt and let it fall on him. She pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor carelessly, then unbuttoned his pants.

Wanting to finish this quickly, he spotted a couple pairs of handcuffs already on the headboard. He pulled her closer to the headboard and swiftly cuffed her. She smiled up at him sexily.

Smirking, he kissed her once again. His kisses continued to get closer to her neck. He raised his head a bit, opened his mouth wide, then sunk his fangs into her neck.

She gasped as the sweet poison went through her veins. She began bucking against him and the restrains as if she were having an orgasm. He continued to lap at the wound, drinking her blood. It was sweet, just like her scent and her taste.

After a couple minutes her fidgeting descended to a few spasms. He stopped drinking and licked the wound hard, and it slowly healed. Only a couple faint bite marks remained.

He gave her one last kiss, and uncuffed her. After a second thought he wrote his number on her arm. As he left the room, he spotted Jason outside waiting. “Finished?” He nodded.

“You?” he nodded.

“Until next time, my friend.” They left the club, got into their car, and drove off into the darkness.


No one steal please >:

[t-t-ten million fireflies]

Alright, to make life easier for everyone, I've pretty much decided on all my entries. Here goes nothing. WARNING!! GIANT POST!!
------------------------------
Short Story
One Night at the Tavern

“One weak pint,” a patron barked, thumping the worn wooden counter with his palm
“Coming right up!” the barmaid replied, a half-smile twitching at the corner of her lips. Reaching under, she grabbed one of the wooden mugs from beneath the counter and turned to the group of kegs clustered in the center of the space. She took a few steps to the smallest barrel of the litter, hitting the tab and watching the pale ale pour into the mug intently, the thick drink nearly spilling over before she could remember to stop the tap.
“Here ya go sir, three coppers” she announced, sliding the mug across the counter
“What?” he asked loudly, holding a hand to his ear. She couldn’t blame him, the Tavern was loud and the Tavern was filled, flocks of dancing and dark shadows surrounded tables as some unknown music played
“I said three coppers sir!” she shouted over the noise.
“Three? Why, love, you’re robbin’ me here! How ‘bout if I take ya home with me, have a lil’ fun an’ call it even?” he asked, a kind of mischievous glint in his eyes, a wicked smile playing upon his lips that would have made any ordinary Lady scream and run from fear
“That’s not necessary, sir, three coppers, sir” no smile, no emotion seemed to emanate from the woman; she was straight-faced as stone and clenching trembling fists hard.
The man tossed the three copper coins at her; they clattered and bounced on the counter over the crevices and dents left by many a bar fight until they came to a stop.
“Lil’ harlot!” he breathed below his breath before turning and taking his pint with him.
The barmaid sighed, scooping up the change and depositing it in her tin cashbox, making sure the lock was secure. On a night like tonight, you never know what could happen.

“You really need to fix this place up” the man said as he sat down on the only barstool not flipped up on the counter. The barmaid was expecting him; he comes every night around this time, once the excitement was over for the night.
He was a well-dressed man who made her wonder if he was either rich or a thief. Guessing by her usual customers, she didn’t think he paid for much of anything. Most distinguishing was his large hat that tended to flop over and cover one eye handsomely and he would nod the brim of this magnificent thing in greeting or parting.
And as to fix it up? Nah, the place was fine. She looked around her Tavern with a new eye, perhaps the dented and worn counter could use some fixing, a little finish and maybe some sanding to smooth out those dents left by many a fight. Her friend Thomas the carpenter could help with that and perhaps fill in the little carvings and crevices etched into the soft wooden surface “KAR + BAS 4 EVR” and “VI” stood out to her as she traced her fingertip over their little scratches. The dark green panels seemed dusty and a little grimy; as far as she could remember, no one did so much as wipe down the tables around here for the years the Tavern stood. Starbursts of light-colored wood gathered below the barstools’ favorite place to be, their rough wooden legs scraping the floor night by night.
“What’cha mean, ‘fix it up’, m’lord?” she asked, not daring to look into her patron’s golden eyes
“What I mean is that this place is very old and she could use a touch-up. By the way, I was serious when I told .you not to treat me anything special”
“I knew you were serious, Starshade, but you’re m’ only noble customer and it must mean somethin’,” she blushed, wiping out one of the used mugs with a rag, “and the Nightmask ain’t old, she’s my pretty darlin’”
“I am your only noble customer? Just the other day I saw you here with Sir Fallon of Haden”
“Well, my only noble regular. Bein’ a regular in itself demands some respect”
“Does it now?” he whispered
Her face flushed in his mesmerizing golden eyes, she was silent a moment before helplessly nodding.
“It does” she replied softly. “So, your usual, Starshade?” she started cheerfully and decidedly loud, tossing the rag on he counter with a splat as she turned for the shelves
“Nah, I was thinking of trying something new”
She laughed and shook her head, “I never thought you’d outgrow that girly drink!”
“It’s not girly! It has rum in it…!”
She laughed again, “Then what are we lookin’ at then, m’lord?”
“How about a house pint?”
“One house pint comin’ right up!” she called loudly like she usually did in large crowds when it was a fight to be heard which made him laugh as she turned back for the kegs cluster in the center of the counter’s enclosure
She paid careful attention to detail for this pint, making sure there wasn’t too much foam sitting on top of the mug and taking too much space and of course watching out for overflows that dared to spill over the soft amber liquid.
Mel wasn’t any extraordinary beauty but not plain by any comparison. Her thick, brown hair hung straight down to her shoulders but was usually tucked behind her ears or tied back in a ribbon. Her eyes seemed to dance with some kind of harmony in two perfectly matching sapphires that seemed clear and unmarred by the drunkenness of alcohol. From what he could ever see, Lord Starshade saw plain attire, a black corset pulled tight over a white blouse that was forever a mainstay of Tavern maid wear, but none the less, she wore it well
“Here ya go m’lord” she said, sliding across the wooden mug down the counter.
She picked up the rag again, wiping out more mugs, more tiny shot glasses and tossing out glass bottles.
“Thank you, Melalalah”
She tossed the rag to the counter again, “I told you to call me Mel!” she growled a bit too fiercely.
“Oh, forgive me,” he replied calmly taking a sip, “Lady Mel”
“Oh, please, don’t be like that; you know I hate that name”
“Of course! Why else would I say it my dear?”
She gasped and stared at him, mouth agape, “You know, you’re just a jerk, y’know that?”
He laughed and took another heady gulp of Lady Mel’s best brew as she stepped through the wooden gate that opened to the real world on the other side of the counter
“I believe you’ve made that point more than once” he quipped
She laughed too, “You know I tease most of the time”
Mel took a stool from the top of the counter, lifting the heavy thing with ease and placing it gently down beside him and taking her seat
“Were you jesting just now?” he asked, perfectly serious now
“Perhaps I was,” she replied, not meeting his honey-smooth eyes that were watching her intently, instead staring at the little carvings on the worn surface
“I just can’t help but wonder, are you going to spend the rest of your days behind that counter?” he asked
She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. She shut it and sighed, “The Nightmask Tavern is m’ life, Starshade, she’s all I got” she replied solemnly
He nodded and took another sip of his pint, finishing off the mug which returned to the counter with an empty and hollow clank
“But what if- what if there was a man-”
She was surprised at first, she knew Lord Starshade well enough to know his gentlemanly nature left no room to stutter, but then she laughed at the absurdity of it all
“A man m’lord?”
“A man who would know how to treat you right, how to keep you happy so you can have a life that isn’t forever serving drinks, a kind man who would take care of you.” He was leaning in close to her, practically on the edge of his seat.
“Goddess, Starshade where would I find one o’ those? Anyway, I don’t need a man to take care of me or nothin’ and I like the Tavern fine, thanks,”
“You’ve been on your own for so long, Mel, maybe you just need to take a rest from it all.”
“What are you gettin’ at, Starshade?” she asked, just realizing the sheer distance between the two of them, inches, perhaps.
She could smell the heady scent of his expensive cologne, she’d once made a point to ask what it was but now the question escaped her.
“I’m saying that maybe that man is right there in front of you.”
He leaned in even nearer to her. His lips were so close to hers; she could even feel his soft, burning breath on her skin. Closer, closer, her eyes flitted closed as she moved even closer to his velvety lips. A moment away-
“Aye, I been travellin’ some while to get ‘ere and boy howdy do I need a drink!”
She sighed and turned her head away to the new customer, “What can I get you, sir?”
......................................
Know Nothing of This World

You awoke in a dark room. No light seemed to escape into the velvety shadows that suffocated all warmth and all hope. Unseeing you stood and reached out arms until you felt something- a wall. You sidled along until fingertips felt a small switch, flicking it skywards. The lights were on.
The room was composed of icy machines and cold technology, glowing blue wires running the length of the metal, panels of various lighted squares, screens, details. All around. In the center, you could see where you were suspended, a pale blue medical bed, pristine and still. The place where you lay had no familiarity to you; it was a completely new place.
The silver door, number 215 opened, slid open to the left with no one on the other side. A hallway much like this room, lined with metal and wiring. More panels, larger in size this time and projecting from the walls dotted the walls the words 'INFORMATION' labeled down their sides. You arrive at one and do as the dark screen bids you, tapping your finger on its glass, causing it to fade to white displaying a name:
number 2, persona the thirteenth
You didn't know what that meant and thought about it as any actual information loaded. Links to stores and their current sales, books and their reviews, a whole list of people and their contacts but you paid no attention to it, really. You didn't even realize how closely you were listening to the conversation between two people waiting to use the booth you stood at.
"Hey, number 32, how was your Regeneration Day?" someone asked cheerfully
A dull, lifeless, depressed voice replied, "Awful, I always hate Regen Day."
"That's not true! Your last Persona really loved it last year!"
"My ninth was immature and ignorant with no sense of mortality. I have only three more Regenerations to live, 45"
"Sad, isn't it? At least you aren't like 27, he's being Terminated today"
"Another year, another one bites the dust"
"Apparently, his Mate Program will be watching. They say that 27 and his Program were so close it was practically Love"
"Wow, that doesn't happen every day"
You wonder what they're talking about as you flip through the lists of people or numbers, really. But it only showed you Number 31 to Number 104. Then, a category listing caught your eye. 'Terminated'. You press the name and a massive list, half black, half red with Numbers ranging from 3 to 29. Red were those to be Terminated today, the screen told you. From 21 and up. You tap number 27 and it tells you that today, his persona the thirteenth will be Terminated in Hall C at Hour Fifth. The screen noted it was only five minutes to Hour Fifth. You tap the screen to view the map of the building you are in and run in the direction it indicates.
The hall grows longer before you, stretching on and on. It seemed like you were running for nothing forever only to find the worth of your cause. But soon enough, you see what could be called close to an end, on the silver, pristine walls hung square imperfections embedded within the metal. Should you have stopped to look, you would have noticed that they were picture frames that slowly counted down, their ever-smiling images flickering every so often. You spare a glance at the numbers, wondering why this Termination of all of them has piqued your interest and why you ran and why you still run.
You glance at the numbers again and realize that the numbers were gaining closer and closer to yours. Your steps flag, you slow and come to a stop right in front of one that seems… oddly familiar.
Like the INFORMATION screen it has your number with a dot and another familiar set of digits to its right. 2.13. You stare at the small, metallic screen for a while, studying its eerily uncanny image that you were positive you've seen before, an image of some kind of lifeless, broken Number, identified only by empty, gray eyes and a long, thin scar. You reach up to touch the small ridge that you remember drawn slowly over your cheekbone.
"Number 2!" a loud, grating mechanical voice sheered through silence, making you startle and jump. You turn to see him- it- whatever it was. Sitting in a silver chair, chained to its frame and held together by unknown metal parts, red mechanical eyes, anything and everything held together haphazardly in uniquely horrifying ways. "You should not be awake!" its voice churned
"You know me?" you asked, listening to your own voice reverberate down the silver hall, speaking for the first time you can remember, not even knowing how you formulated this sound.
"No one does not" was the thing's cryptic reply. "You should not be here" it grated
"I need to be… I need to know what is going on" you finally managed to explain desperately
"You insist?" it demanded
"I must know" you did insist, "I must know all that I can"
The thing shook what might have been a head, wrapped in wires copper and white in equal measure and cut through with burning scarlet eyes, "You cannot know all that there is. There is too much to tell and things of past that were never meant to be known"
"Then let me know all I can of this world. If you know me, then perhaps you will know of my state. I know nothing of where I am or who I am, who I am to be. This world is a mystery to me. I need to see, I need to know." To this day you don't know how or why those words came but the letters; the sounds tumbled from your lips and to the ground.
"Then follow" the Machine ordered, its metal throne turning around abruptly, "You may see the Termination today, but know no more. Ask no questions, no one will answer"
You obeyed and followed the trail the Machine left, pushing open mercilessly heavy doors into the shocking white abyss.
And there, to your left was the Termination. A window ringed in- yes- more metal let only one, glassy look into the real world as you would ever know it. A voice, a voice that one day if you understood would have been likened to thick, ugly molasses dripping and staining a small scrap of velvet, saturating and overflowing with a thick, ugly darkness.
Number 27, you have entered the final day of your Persona the Thirteenth. According to the Codes and Standards of Rapture as set by the Great Number One and Just Number Two have dictated you have reached the end of your Life's Span. You will be properly Terminated for The Harvest and Recreation. In this year of 20208, there have been 32 Terminations with 0 Objections. Do you Object? you heard.
You see his mouth form a 'no' and shake his head and once again the ugly voice rang out
Then you offer yourself for Termination and Reproduction for the good of the Society of Rapture. May God be merciful upon you. Termination process begin
"What do they mean… Termination then Reproduction?" you ask the thing behind you solemnly
"You have just awoken and I know you know nothing of this world. It is for the best"
"No. It isn't." you state simply, turning around to face whatever it was whether it was a man or a beast of a machine… perhaps both. "I am lost in this world. Tell me where I am. Who I am. You know, don't you?"
"Watch." The thing ordered.
You turn around to the silver-framed glass as an armful of knives descended on Number 27, a spinning razor wheel a moment away from his forehead as he lay there still. You cringe unbearably
"Don't worry Number Two, they will not show you much. Blockers will hide the rest"
That much was true but it seemed that the heavy black iron didn't rocket upwards fast enough to cover the window, letting blood splatter the glass before your eyes.
27's screams still echo in your mind to this day.

"Our world was supposed to be perfect. Rapture was a place where people could live freely without greed or famine. But even more so, me and a… friend of mine were researchers at a prestigious place… we discovered how to induce multiple personalities. People could be whoever they wanted, live who they wanted to live. Testing… we tested these ideas and discovered that a human body could only hold up to 13 different personalities and keep all but one repressed. We decided to create a utopia with this research were at the age of 10, they would begin the 'persona' process as we came to call it and let the person decide on their persona once a year, on Regeneration Day. At the end of 13 years and personas, the person would be Terminated and their bodies given into Reproduction from their remains. Essentially, all but two members of Rapture are composed of the remnants of previous Numbers and only one has lived through 13 personas"
"Who was that?" you ask
The thing sighed a more human noise than you ever thought imaginable by the beast of a thing in a machine and replied, "I am. I have survived 17 different personas. And yes, Number Two that is how I came to be as you see me here"
"Wait, so if you're the oldest as Number One… and I'm Number Two…?" you begin to ask
"It means nothing"
"But I'm Number Two! There has to be something to do with that"
"You know too much, I shouldn't have told you"
"I was your best friend! This doesn't make sense!"
"Now you're starting to sound like the Number 2 I knew"
"Then why am I like this? Why? How could I have not known?"
"What we did was wrong. You couldn’t live with this mistake so you wanted to bury your guilt from the world"
"But now I know! I'm feeling more real and more into something than I have since as long as I can remember!"
"And it's time to go back."
"Go back? What do you mean?"
"You may remember" it told you, Number 1 told you, "But not for long"
"No! I'm holding onto me and my memories now! I will remember! I will know of this world"
And for no reason. No reason at all. All you saw
Black.

You awoke in a dark room.
-----------------------------------------
Poetry

Through Tall Grass Form: Kyrielle

I can't help but follow you
Through pointed leaves that cut me through the dew
Faster, faster towards the dying sun
After you through tall grass, still I run

The bonfire's glowing, burning bright
Wetness seeps my stockings in this dangerous flight
Don't know where I'm going but still I come
After you through tall grass, still I run

People are jumping and touching sky
The trampoline gives and utters a sigh
But I leave them and it may seem stupid to some
After you though tall grass, still I run

Wondering a moment if this is all real
Those lupine growls and howls your friends so steal
But impossible! It can't be done! -But*
After you through tall grass, still I run

We crouch and listen to what they sing
"Don't Stop Believing," that's the thing
Neither you nor I have forgotten and in this battle, far from won
After you through tall grass still I run

A call to reality brings me back
You run through the tall grass and don't look back
And trying to run, instead finding the truth
I realize I can't keep up with you
...............................
Lord of Gray form: non-restrictive Ballad with no regulations

In the deepest inkiest night
The darkness fades to day
I lie asleep and I dream of black
As stars become Today

I wonder what to think of you
Invading thoughts kept at bay
Wonder if you think well of me
What to think of the Lord of Gray

Nearer, nearer, close but so far
You seem so far away
And now I can’t help but wonder
Will Today be the day?

I swore to make my move tonight
But thoughts I keep away
Wonder when the time will be right
Please tell me, Lord of Gray

But those times we’ve spent together
Leaves nothing left to say
Can’t speak my mind any more
And it passes, another day

In my awful past those ideas died
The chances fade away
I know I’ve been a catty b***h
Will you overlook that, Lord of Gray?

Now the ballroom’s sweeping tonight
Masks colored bright and gay
The song playing is one I’ll hear
Today will be my day!

Now the notes seem to be dancing
Music carries away
But will you dance with me tonight?
Take my hand, Lord of Gray
------------------------------------------
Other

Author's Note: The following script is for a graphic novel I'm working on. Anyone ripping me off, stealing this or anything of the kind, consider your a** pre-kicked and sued. Somehow.
PART I

-We're in SELENE's cottage, a messy, but modest home for someone of a sort of middle-class even though there wasn't much of that kind of thing in Salem at the time-
SCENE TITLE: Salem 1691

SELENE runs from L-R, looking rumpled, her plain gray dress rumpled and the ties at the collar undone, the white collar looking folded and messed up. Her wavy hair that is generally hard to manage as-is is messy and bead-headed. As she starts her dialogue, we follow her doing up her ties, smoothing her hair quickly and running to the door

SELENE: I'm so late!
Here I promised Zachary I would be early for Service to meet him but the clock only just struck for Mass!
I'd better hurry before he--
SELENE throws the door open to a major pull-back, a HUGE ANGRY MOB is gathered, torches ablaze, pitchforks, the whole nine right outside her door.
SELENE: --Kills me
SOMEONE IN THE MOB: She be the Witch!
MOB PEOPLE: Burn the witch!
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live"! That's what the Bible said!
Witches must die! It's God's will, that be!
VOICE FROM THE CROWD: Selene!
We see a cross-shot of THE MOB like some kind of front-line in the battle. In these lines, we see ZACHARY running through to SELENE both with open arms and then embrace.
ZACHARY: I'm so glad I found you!
Overlooking ZACHARY's shoulder, THE MOB behind him
MOB PEOPLE: Is that Zachary Taylor with the witch-girl?
T' love a witch? That be goin' against God himself!
Maybe he be a witch then!
Witch-attract-witch, that makes sense
Then he must be tried with her at the Meetin' House, like everyone else!
ZACHARY whispering: no, no, no…
At the same front-lines cross-cut shot, ZACHARY pushes SELENE away forcefully, sending her falling to the ground
ZACHARY: NO!
SELENE looks up to him, imploringly with her big eyes that are a mess of tears
SELENE: Zachary, what…?
ZACHARY takes a pitch-fork from SOMEONE IN THE MOB behind him and points it straight at her like a sword
ZACHARY lifelessly: The witch must die. It be God's will.
SELENE scrambles to her feet, hikes up her skirt in an unladylike way and runs up the hill just beyond the house, wordlessly. ZACHARY, knowing well where she is headed drops his pitchfork and runs after her
ZACHARY: Selene! That be the Twisted Wood! You can't-! None come back from there!
SELENE: Then leave me alone and worry yourself about God's great will to kill me.
ZACHARY: I can't let y' to the Devil! He hides in them trees, he does!
SELENE: I'm a witch, am I not? Does it matter?
Why do you care anyway?
ZACHARY stops running
ZACHARY: 'Cause I love you?
SELENE doesn't respond, she just drops the skirt bunched up in her hand and steps silently among the trees. This, will be cool-lookin.
Suddenly, a locker door slams!
SCENE TITLE: Salem, 2004
-CELINE a girl who looks to be at least a Junior is at her locker, moving around books and stuff. Unlike SELENE, CELINE looks like she has modesty problems, but she looks, dressed neat and perfect, like a model or something. ZACH who has the general boy's immaturity look about him is leaning seemingly nonchalantly, facing her, but she ignores him-
ZACH: Hey Celine, I know this cool band playing The Space tonight, you know, that club in town. We could go and-
CELINE irritated: Zach, I told you a million times to pronounce it Sey-line and no.
ZACH: How about tomorrow? We could catch a movie-
CELINE cold: I'm busy.
ZACH totally not getting that she is pissed off: Sunday? I know it's kinda against the whole tradition and stuff but-
CELINE: Family thing. No.
CELINE slams her locker shut and walks down the hall, ZACH trailing like some kind of lost puppy As the following dialogue goes, they walk through the school, out through the doors and outside, taking a turn towards the woods out back and across a baseball backstop to get there.
ZACH: Monday? Hey, we could make it a lunch-date-!
CELINE: I'm busy Monday.
ZACH: But you can't be busy every day, right?
CELINE: Watch me.
ZACH being sickeningly persistent: Tuesday?
CELINE: Busy.
ZACH: Wednesday?
CELINE: Very busy.
ZACH: Thursday?
CELINE: I'm busy that day, too
ZACH: Friday?
CELINE whips around to face him: Look, nothing you can say will make me stop being busy, okay? I have a lot of things to do, a lot of better things to do.
CELINE turns back around, walking through the woods and avoiding branches, ZACH running in after her
ZACH: Oh, come on, Celine, don't play so hard-to-get!
CELINE off-panel: It's pronounced Sey-line!
ZACH wasn't listening: Celine, I don't think we should be in here!
And suddenly, CELINE is no where to be found.
ZACH going deeper into the woods: Celine?
Celine?
No response
Oh, come on, Celine, don't do this to me!
Still no response.
Silent treatment? Really?
We see a hand, skeletal but still human suddenly coming out of the ground! Creepy!
ZACH off-panel: Celine?
END PART I

[AlambiqueCiel]

I have only poems so here they come:

[******** you.
The minutes fell off the clock while we let our dirty little secrets
dance across guilty tongues and the words that waltz off your lips
get scrawled on to my brain. Last night, you told me you were studying
when you really were flooding some whore's backseat and now you're
wondering why the things spraying out of my mouth aren't nice. Well,
maybe if you understood that my veins have been filled with your tainted "i love you's"
and they have backed themselves up with the reassurance that you'll change.


But you won't, you never have. This isn't the first time.
Remember when I caught you gnawing off the heated flesh
in between two nail-bitten thighs? No you don't. You were
too busy letting her moans coil into your ears and making sure
you didn't miss one drop of her. My eyes soaked in two lovers sweating off
their infidelity but my mind coddled me by lining the inside of my skull with
"he's sorry, he won't do it again. you love him."

And now whom am I to blame? Both of us. You,
because you let yourself get lost in this place
full of half-naked women that'll turn you into
their slave with a flick of an eyelash. Me,
because I led myself into your war zone of sex
that's been caged inside for too long and you
opened up the door onto other women but I was
manipulated by your shallow attempt of telling
me you wanted a serious relationship.


Your closed mind can't hold me in anymore.
You diminished in tendrils of amnesia but
I sometimes forget you're gone. I feel
your laughter brushing my ears every now and then
but all it is is the sighs burrowing out of my throat.
You left me crouched on a blank canvas that kept shrinking
till I was no more than a droplet of ivory paint.
You left me for those girls that stand behind the school
and hand out one-dollar blow jobs. You smother yourself
in artificial skin that's the color of oranges and you can't
remember if you ever were a blonde. Your brown eyes used to sparkle
but now they're just dirt coated with charcoal that you smear on aimlessly.
And your eyes never wander towards me, your mouth never lets go of words
and shoots them to me. It's been a damn year since I got the tiniest gesture
that my body really does exist. You had your sister give me back that
flimsy, spur-of-the-minute scrapbook where pictures of us were lazily strewn
together but still they mattered. Not to you though. I wasn't caged up in
your betrayal-kissed mind anymore. Guess I've been washing down my anxiety
with lies because I always thought "bff" meant best friend forever.


Forget-me-not.
Seal my eyes with the frost
smoking off your teeth and
cradle my naive mind in your
hands. Hold it carefully because
it's too frail to have aggressive
words drooled on it like before.
But it'll barely touch the I've-
seen-the-world-in-clear-view callouses
on your palms, the only things left on
it were your edged fingerprints and
a cluster of "remembermylovecoatedlips"
kisses congealed to my memory.


I'll leave it at three.

[[x] Bob-IT [x]]

I am also entering this:


Imagination


I want to feel the unfamiliar warmth of the realization;
I am where I want to be with who I want to be with.
To experience love in all forms of it's meanings
And not just ponder
Upon the mystique that is romance.

I want to dream about a far away world
Filled with wonders so grand
So mysterious in all it's splendor.
With golden bands and crystal ribbons of lavender;
Caress me so tenderly like the touch of a lover.

I want to find the robot
Devoid entirely of heart and emotion;
To give it the understanding of arts
Of music, the ability to cry
To sing songs of laughter
And understand.

I want to free myself of pointless worry.
To know the unending bounds
Where what can and what can not blur.
To feel infinite in every way possible.

I want to bask in the sunlight;
A feline held prisoner by nothing but desire.

I want to feel the eternal emptiness,
The everending energy
Of nothing and everything
Coalescing into the infinitesimal
Obscurity of my soul.

I want to be
What I can not be
But except in the confines of my own
Imagination.

[Love thy Words]

Is it alright to enter things we have in other contests or arenas?

[Lovers Never Tell]

bump

[Loverling]

Fury Of The Flame

The wall shook and cracked as Nicholas’ foot jammed into its dry surface. He was furious, and had no other way of venting his anger. One minute he and his father were having fun ticking his mother off, and the next moment he is getting yelled at by that very same man.
“Damn a*****e!” He yelled, as his foot slammed into the wall again. “Stupid p***k! What the hell made mom want to marry that b*****d in the first place!?” His fist met the wall with terrifying force, and the knuckles began to bleed.
Suddenly he heard the sound of a cat’s meow. If this boy had inherited anything from his father it was one horrible thing; he took joy in other creatures’ pain and often used their agony to brighten his own mood. He walked up to the orange and grey cat which flicked its tale and started circling Nicholas, examining this new specimen.
“Oh, curious are you?” Nicholas questioned. He knelt down in front of the feline and just looked at it. The cat inspected Nicholas one more time before proceeding to rub itself against his leg, only causing him to sneer. He hated being touched. It made him feel sick when people were affectionate towards him.
With one swing of his arm the cat flew into the wall. Nicholas got up and kicked the cat, completely disregarding the mangled cry that came as it hit the wall again. Well, not disregarding it. No. He took pleasure in it. He had a sick smile on his lips as he snapped his fingers and flame appeared in the palm of his hand. He raised his arm, taking this moment to bask in the small glimmer of power he had. Then-
“Hey!” Nicholas moved his eyes toward the voice. “What are you doing!!” It was David, that stupid wimp cousin of his. He ran up to the scene with his horrified eyes locked onto the furry lump on the ground.
“What does it look like!?” Nicholas snapped. “Get out of here!”
David cut his eyes at Nicholas. “You really are a sick, twisted freak.”
Nicholas’ eye twitched, and for a moment he looked sinisterly angry at David, but then he smirked. “It’s not like you can do anything about that.” The one thing Nicholas liked about being a sick twisted freak was that nobody could do a thing about it. They could lock him away sure, but in Nicholas’ mind, that would only mean that he had won.
A terrible grin ran across his face before he threw the fire down upon the creature, but in the same instant David leapt down and covered the cat with his own body. This had caught Nicholas by surprise. He looked a little shocked at first, but then he simply chuckled. “Idiot.”
As David lay there, burning and screaming in horrifying pain, Nicholas heard another sound. It sounded like… a waterfall? A... flood? Nicholas looked up and a cascade of water came out of no where and flooded the alley way. Nicholas was thrown against the wall and the fire was extinguished.
The water slowly began to drain out and after a moment of shock Nicholas stood up; his eyes wide with enraged surprise as he looked down on his soaking hands. David. Quiet, wimpy, stupid David held a power that could rival his own. He glared down at the black, red, and tanned mass of a curled up boy.
Nicholas turned and stormed out of the alley, thinking of any way he could to get back at his cousin.
Soon his mother found him and in a panic rushed him to the hospital. After much slow and painful rehabilitation David was able to return to his home, taking the cat with him, which he had kept the entire time. He promised always to protect it, along all living creatures, from the misery of flames; especially Nicholas’.

Broken Walls

Her body shot up from her bed as her racing heart pumped paralyzing adrenalin through her body. Her breath was heavy and fast and her skin was sticky with salty sweat. Once again the night was invaded by terror and pain; at least in her mind.
It was the fourth night in a row that she was plagued with horrifying nightmares. Visions of horrid spider-like creatures surrounding her, gigantic bats eating her alive, and other such fears she had. She sighed and finally regained her breathe then slowly slid out from under her blanket. She was twenty-three years old and to her embarrassment she still had night terrors, though they had been getting so much worse lately. She could handle it when it was three or four times a week, but every night? It was driving her mad.
She rose from her bed and walked out of her room and down the hall where she stood idly in front of her adopted brother, Dilerian’s bedroom door. She opened it slowly and stepped inside then made her way to his bedside opposite to him. She gripped the covers and stood there for a moment, thinking over what she was about to do, then simply stopped thinking about it and moved them aside before crawling into his bed. As the bed gave slight way to her weight Dilerian awoke and rolled over onto his back then slowly opened his eyes.
“Hm?” He mumbled groggily as he lifted his upper body off the bed. “This… isn’t who I think it is…” He stated.
“Sorry,” She spoke rather dryly. “I’m not one of your lady friends.”
Dilerian blinked and looked to his left, and as his eyes adjusted he could see the grayish outline of his younger sister sitting upon his bed with her knees to chest. “Sarah…? Wh-? What…?” He struggled to converse as his mind struggled to become fully aware. “Is something the matter?”
Sarah was silent.
This was both quite unsettling and motivating for Dilerian, but not because his little sister was in his bed, no, but rather because she seemed to be reaching out him. She liked to keep from getting too close to others and hardly made any effort to have emotional contact with anyone, but now she was coming in search for something. Why else would she come into his bedroom in the middle of the night? No other reason that he would like to think of…
“Sarah.” Dilerian sat up straight and rubbed his forehead, as of trying to rub the sleep out of his brain. “Did something happen.”
“Spiders.” Sarah answered.
“Spiders?” Dilerian repeated.
“Bats.” She added.
“Bats and spiders?” He asked.
Sarah nodded, and even though Dilerian could not see her he assumed that she had, or that she was being unresponsive, which usually meant that he was correct.
“Well… We could schedule another session with Doctor Norman. “He suggested.
` “She doesn’t help.”
“You don’t really let her-“
“You’re psychiatrist too, why can’t you help!!”
“I’m a psychologist. There’s a difference.”
“What the f*ck is the difference?!”
“I’m not trained to help you!”
“So!?”
“Sarah.”
Sarah was silent after that. Dilerian always had a certain way of addressing her; he always used a certain tone that always made her think twice. It was not a stern tone, nor was it a soft tone. He spoke with firmness in his voice, but still had tenderness in it. She shut her eyes tight and suddenly wrapped her arms around Dilerian, quite catching him off guard.
“Uh…” He cautiously wrapped his arms around. He so deeply wanted to comfort her and tell her that everything will be alright, but he knew he could not. Everything would not be alright, and both Dr. Norman and Sarah’s Sensei often tell him that he can her act so rashly anymore, and not to mention what an awkward scenario they were in.
She held onto him tight and would not dare let go, so Dilerian could not let her feel rejected. He held her close and rested his chin on her head. After a few minutes he cleared his throat. “
“This isn’t going to happen often.” He said awkwardly.
“This is just as weird for me as it is for you.” Sarah replied. Dilerian smiled a little, and soon they both fell asleep.



{The following is something that did in a roleplay once, but I loved it so much that I saved it, and I just want to enter it here. XD It is VERY VERY informal writing, but it's still fun. ^_^}

Sarah: The guys at my work are flipped. *is in the kitchen with her dirty breakfast dishes* There were already a couple who said I’m “cute”.
Dilerian: What? *looks up with a pathetically worried look on his face* Who?
Sarah: *eyes widen in regret of her words* Oh, god damn it. -_- *puts her dishes in the sink*
Dilerian: *stands, placing his coffee and news paper on the table* Who said you’re cute? *walks up to her* Were they nice boys?
Sarah: “Nice boys”? What the hell Dilerian, what am I, 15?
Dilerian: It doesn’t matter to me how old you are. =(
Sarah: *rolls her eyes and leaves the kitchen*
Dilerian: *follows her* Do you like these boys?
Sarah: What the hell!? You do realize I’m 23 years old, don’t you?
Dilerian: But you’re still my little Sarah! *falls to his knees behind her and hugs her waist* I’m not ready to let you go yet!
Sarah: O_O *twitches* Dilerian!! *starts walking and thus causes Dilerian to slip down so that he’s hugging her calves*
Dilerian: You’re my little princess Sarah!! crying
Sarah: *twitches more as her face goes a little pink out of embarrassment and anger* Shut up Dilerian! Get off me!! *starts trying to kick him off*
~Anime cartoon of Sarah flailing her leg about violently as Dilerian holds on to it for dear life, action lines all around!~
Dilerian: T.T Noooo!
Sarah: You are so pathetic!!
Dilerian: Insult me all you want, I’ll still love you!!
Sarah: *twitch twitch* AAHH! GET OFF!!! *finally kicks Dilerian lose and storms out*
Dilerian: *sits on his knees and watches Sarah as she walks out, sniffling slightly* … *suddenly regains his composure completely and stands up, dusting himself off, and calmly returns to his coffee and newspaper*

[sheranine_rahiam]

My Entry is a bit short... but here it is:


We are sons of the present like our parents were from the past. Time holds the memories we like to keep, like an Egyptian cat fulfilling his functions on the hells gates of our lives.
We hold in our hands a future that we try to ignore many times or even pretend not to know. Time is nothing but a skilled thief that dedicates to nothing but beauty, stealing life from us easier than we would like to admit.
We are involuntary warriors that fight for their lives in a battle lost so many times and won so few, that leaves us lost in this endless ocean. The war is far from its end. We fight so much that sometimes we forget what we battle for, why we throw ourselves in this endless abyss, many times having to die without starting to live or killing with a reason to do so.

[Lovers Never Tell]

when exactly does thing end?

[lozza-b-ere]

My best friend’s valentine

Have you ever had a crush on one of your best friends? Who might like you in the same way but might not? Well, that is what happened to me. I fell in love with my best friend though. It wasn’t just a crush.
To start with, it was simply that he was the person I could tell anything to. He was the person I could turn to; who would care when I was hurt. And generally, just him giving me a hug made the world seem better, like I could face anything.
It wasn’t until a week before Valentine’s day that I realised just how much more he meant to me than I had ever believed before.
When I got into school that Monday I didn’t see him, which didn’t really surprise me, but then I didn’t see him at lunch either, but the other guys told me he was just at training. I had forgotten again. After school though, I did start getting worried. I saw him, but when we met it wasn’t the same as usual. He didn’t give me one of his amazing hugs. Then he told me something that literally stopped my heart.
He had a girlfriend. At that moment, I felt like I was all alone, that I had lost him, but I plastered a grin on my face and asked all the questions I would have done with any of my other mates, though I didn’t want to know any of it. He seemed so happy, so light, that all I wanted was to be able to bring him that joy, not this other girl. I had never met her yet I hated her. I was jealous of her, because of what she had done to his heart. Because she was taking his heart from me, but I couldn’t let him see how much it affected me. All afternoon he asked me over and over if I was alright, and I always assured him I was fine, or just a bit tired. He accepted it. That night, all I could think about was him and his girlfriend, or more accurately, how much I hated his girlfriend, wishing I was his girlfriend instead, and how much I actually loved him. That night I dreamed of him holding me in his arms and telling me he loved me.
The next couple of days were spent trying to keep my thoughts hidden from him so he would stay happy. Generally I think it worked, until he introduced me to his girlfriend Wednesday evening.
The sight of the two of them together, holding hands, looking at each other with so much tenderness, was too much. After just twenty minutes I text a friend, asking them to call me pretending to be my mum so I had an excuse to get away. Before I reached the street corner I was in fits of tears.
On Thursday, I pretty much avoided the one person I would normally have talked to about a problem like this. By Friday, it was clear that he knew something was wrong, and I couldn’t hide it very well either. I told him I needed to be alone for a couple of days, and he looked at me searchingly, but accepted my request without much argument. With no school or homework to do on Saturday, I concentrated on my reading and music, picking out all the most difficult pieces to keep myself busy. I didn’t want to think, so when my mum said we were all going out for the day on Sunday, I was almost relieved. Sundays had always been my day to spend solely with my best friend, and since that wasn’t going to be happening, the next best thing seemed a family outing. It wasn’t until I realised where we were going, that I saw just how horribly wrong I had been. My mum had chosen to take us to the woods. The same woods I had played hide-and-seek in with my best friend. The same ones where we had gotten lost and scared ourselves silly.
While my brothers ran off to play football, and my mum set up the picnic, campfire and blankets, I was left alone with my thoughts and memories. Everything I had been avoiding all week. It was the day before Valentine’s day, and the boy I loved was going out with someone else, was out with her right then. I pulled myself out of my reverie before I could start crying, and I checked my phone to see if there was anyone I could talk to while my family was busy, but of course, I had no signal in the woods. I trudged around to find my mum and then sat down to talk to her about anything but what I needed to talk about, occasionally helping her out.
When we finally packed up and headed home that evening, I switched off my phone, found out my iPod and cranked up the volume to full on any heavy metal or scream-o song I could find. I fell asleep and didn’t dream of him once.
I woke the next morning however with a bad headache and earache from the music. When I made it downstairs, I realised it was Valentine’s day and almost played up being ill so that I could skip school, avoid seeing him. But I did the honest thing and went to school anyway. That morning in class, everyone was anxious to see who got roses, cards and chocolates, but all I could feel was worry that I might see him. At lunch he had training again, so I was safe then. That afternoon “Cupid’s Cherubs” visited my class, bearing gifts of roses, cards and chocolates. When my name was read out, and a Cherub came to my desk with a dozen roses and a box of chocolates, I told him there must be a mistake, but he assured me it certainly wasn’t, so I accepted them, then sat pondering who could have sent them, as the card simply said, “To the one I love, though I have never told you. xxx.” I dared not wish it was from the one who I could say this to in return, but I could think of no-one who would say this to me; least of all him. That afternoon, I became the talk of the year group, with everyone wanting to know who had sent my gifts, but no-one could come up with anything.
After school I went to the one person who probably would know who had sent the gifts, because, although it was hard to see him, it made me feel slightly better that I had received the box of chocolates and a dozen red roses. When I found him after school, he seemed almost nervous, shy. I asked if he was alright, but he assured me he was fine, instead asking me how my day had been. I didn’t believe he hadn’t heard about my gifts, but he seemed more surprised at my not having heard his news going round the school that morning. He had broken up with his girlfriend on Saturday, because she thought he didn’t love her. At his words, all I could do was hug him, tightly holding him, never wanting to let go, so when he pulled me closer, enveloping me in his arms and gently pressing his lips to my hair, I looked up at him in surprise and wonder. He smiled, whispered in my ear, “I love you,” and gently leaned down to kiss me, just softly, tenderly, just how I’d dreamed.

[lozza-b-ere]

Earth’s Moon

I am the Earth’s moon,
Held high in the air,
I’m there all the time,
But I’m never quite here.
Unlike Jupiter’s Callisto,
I am on my own,
Only me to be seen,
Not like others, I am alone.

I am the Earth’s moon,
I make no sound,
I try to speak out,
But my voice always drowns.
I cry out in the night,
When everyone sleeps,
In the day I’m not noticed,
I’m just background scenes.

I am the Earth’s moon,
I was once adored,
People looked up to me,
People once would applaud.
But then I was lost,
To the sight of all around,
That was when I felt alone,
When I wasn’t heard, not a sound.

I am the Earth’s moon,
I sit high in the sky,
I will once more be noticed,
I will once more be fine.
I look out over all,
And I care how they are,
They will again be proud,
And they will find me from so far.

I am the Earth’s moon,
Lost once to the eyes,
But not again, no longer now,
Will I be lost from sight in the skies.

[Amortentia Lunar]

Tom Berry's Wife

A black car quietly hummed down the wet road at ten p.m. on Tuesday night. Two men, a sleeping lab, and a corpse named Tom Berry rode inside.
"Mark, stopping skidding like that. We don't wanna leave any marks on th' road."
"Don't you tell me how to drive," the driver sneered. He had a short temper and was more ferocious than the dog that snored in the back by a parsec.
"I'll tell you how to drive as long as you’re driving like a damn idiot and there's a dead guy in th' trunk! Slow down!"
Mark inhaled sharply. Ben reached over and turned on the windshield wipers as the window started to fog up. "Damn car," he muttered, "hate this thing."

Mark didn't reply and kept his beady eyes glued to the road. Rain fell in the direction of the car so that it was like driving through gateways of stars as they grew closer, and then fell away around the car. Its weak engine made a rattling noise as they got closer to the lake.
"Just stop here. The spot we're taking him and right over that there ditch. Down th' hill a bit."
They grunted as they squeezed out of Tom Berry's Volkswagen and slammed the doors a bit too loud--something Tom would have never allowed. The lab peered out from behind the front wheel, having slithered out behind Ben.
"You get 'is feet there and I'll take th' head."
"I wanna get th' head--"
"Just git it!"
Mark wrapped his short, thick arms around the rolled up carpet and pulled it out of the trunk. He was glad that Tom Berry had been short and thin, that he didn't have to work hard to carry his body. He griped his way up the bank and into the little wooded area. The rain made it hard for the two men to see their way in the woods, but they carried on anyway. The lab softly padded after them, concerned for his old master that no longer had a heart beat.
"I can't wait 'til th' mornin' Mark."
"Why's at?" Mark scooted down the other side of the bank.
"Git to see my girl," Ben sneered at Mark. "You found yourself a girl yet, Mark?
"No, I ain't in'rested."
"But they can be fun. Get 'em all worked up and in love with you, why, if you got a girl she'd let you do all sort of things to her."
"I ain't in'rested, Ben."
Ben smiled down at the other man as they approached a cliff. Below, the rain pattered against the waves.

Mark stood behind a rock, steadily making sure he didn't fall into the lake with Tom Berry.
"On three," Ben said from the other end of the carpet-wrapped corpse.
Mark grasped the carpet roll and swung it gently with Ben's count.
"One...Two....Three...." Mark watched as the corpse was lifted into the wind and then carried down to the dark waters. The body fell slowly, as if something carried it down or if it refused to accept its burial place. Mark wiped a mixture of sweat and rain from his brow. "Let's git outta here."
The lab watched as the two henchmen hurried away from the scene. As the lights of the car lit up beyond the bank, the lab whined softly and wished his master still lived. As he turned to make his way home, the lab stopped at the rock beside the cliff and sniffed a leathery glove.

The henchmen waited for their orders but nothing came for several weeks. The leader of their gang had decided to keep quiet after Tom Berry's disappearance. The man had been liked and had served his country and the community well. Mark often wondered what it was that Tom Berry had done to deserve death. But, he figured, that was none of his business anyway.

Mark left the car at a dump covered in scrap metal and bits of trash. It was in Mississippi that he left the car, and figured no one in Alabama would find the miserable car.
He also thought about what Ben had said about women. He liked them, but he knew good and well there wasn’t a woman out there that would settle with him. And he despised settling down with one. He thought about Tom Berry's wife and how she was at home now, all alone. She would cry on the bed at night, thinking about how God had abandoned her and her family; when it was just him and Ben that had done her wrong and shot her husband dead for no wrong that he could think of except insulting the boss.

It was during his thoughts of her that Mark would become insatiably jealous of Tom Berry. He had everything when he was alive. He had left behind a weak, beautiful wife and two pretty daughters all alone in the world.

Two months after the watery funeral of Tom Berry, Mark sat outside a small estate in Winston County. There were a lot of trees all around the house, but he could see some lights on. He could hear a television when he sat quiet enough. In the wind, there was whispering, and he imagined it to be the two young girls. He drank a beer and ate his food that he had brought along with him. He had begun watching the Berry women three weeks after dumping Tom's body. He had imagined them alone for so long and now he figured he must love them after all.

But tonight was different. He wanted Tom's wife, just like Ben had wanted his girl. The woman's fair face floated in his mind, her dark hair flowed around her head. Her dark eyes sucked him into an abyss where there was no light, and her lips...he just wanted to kiss her.

He got out of his car and locked it. The path swirled around him as he walked into the front yard. In the distance, there was a jingle of a bell and a golden flash of something moving quickly. The air grew still. Mark pulled his brown jacket together and fastened the cuff on his leather glove.

He climbed up the porch steps, swung open the door, and walked into a well-lit den. The beige sofa was covered in a quilt, the television was on. Three voices swam from the kitchen. Mark felt himself at home and took a seat in the loveseat under The Last Supper. He imagined himself the king of the household. He stretched out his arms and inhaled the delicate smell of the house. It didn't have that overbearing candle smell that most houses had. It was sweet and easy to breathe in. He wondered if Tom Berry's wife was like that.

He leaned back with his feet on the table, all covered in mud, and waited as Tom Berry's wife swept into the room. She screamed in horror and jumped back when she walked in on Mark sprawled across her mother's loveseat. Mark jumped up and hauled himself at her.
"CALL THE POLICE! SUSAN!"
The girls ran into the den and hit Mark upside the head with their baseball bats. Susan tore a bottle of mace out of her purse and shot it at Mark, but he was all ready darting for the door with their mother in tow.
"SUSAN!" Tom's wife screamed as Mark dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of the house. Ambrosia dialed as quickly as she could while Susan retrieved a pistol from the kitchen cupboard. Outside, Mark was ripping the bathrobe off Tom's wife as she tried to get away. He laughed at her and tackled her once more, pinning her to the ground. She gasped weakly as the stitches in her abdomen came loose. Mark pressed himself against her and kissed her slender neck.

Susan ran into the drive and found Mark pinning her mother to the ground. She lifted the gun and felt the wind beat against it threateningly. Her parents had always taught her that killing was bad, and that when she died, she would have to face God for her actions. She thought these things faster than she had ever thought before, and felt, in one second, grief for the loss of her father, grief for the crime against her mother, grief for her sister, and fear of God.

Her finger pulled the trigger, and her spirit guided the bullet straight into Mark's head. She threw herself at her mother's side and began to pick her up. Blood ran from the new wounds.
"Mom," Susan said, handling her mother's bruised head as gently as she could. Her father's old pistol was lying in the ground where she had fired the shot. Ambrosia ran to them, still sobbing, with the phone on her ear.
"He's dead, Susan killed him, he's dead," she cried.
Susan held her sister and mother, rocking them in the darkness and trying to get them back to the house as gently as she could. She stood up and helped her mother get up to lean on her. Susan tried to ignore the dead body as she half carried; half dragged her mother back to the house. As they walked past the sprawled corpse; however, a small gleam of moonlight caught her eye, and led her inquiring eyes down to a damp, over worn, leather glove. She kept her silence, and led her family back into the serene light of the cedar kitchen.

[AlambiqueCiel]

Lovers Never Tell

when exactly does thing end?

18th, dear.

[Lovers Never Tell]

AlambiqueCiel

Lovers Never Tell

when exactly does thing end?

18th, dear.

I feel bad for the thread owner.