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 Posted: Tue Mar 09, 2010 5:19 pm
I've always found that prompts are a good way to help anybody improve their writing :3 They provide an idea, and since they don't have to be long or terribly elaborate (but can be if you desire) they're perfect for practice! Poetry is, of course, totally acceptable, but please let us know what prompt you're posting when you post! Feedback is allowed, but please don't spam! :3 If you are deeply compelled to, you may use my graphics when you post... but I haven't made too many yet. I will link the graphics I have made to the themes.Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Tue Mar 09, 2010 5:20 pm
  From the monastery, Cadell could see the whole village trailing off down the mountain, settling in among the foothills and along the banks of the river. The land was rich and fertile, if not a bit peaty, but the crops grew well enough, and the people, living with one another in their patched up, tossed together families, helped each other as best they could. It wasn't that different from any other village in the area, Cadell thought, and as a soldier and a mercenary, he'd seen almost all of them here, and abroad as well. The war had been taking its tole for decades now, and everybody was tired, and everybody, everywhere, was struggling just to keep the survivors alive another day. As a monk, Cadell was given the privileged to learn. It was maybe the thing he loved most about living there, having not only the luxury of literacy on his side, but the opportunity and time to pick and choose what he pleased from the monastery's comparatively vast library. From books he'd learned about nuclear families, about children with fathers they not only knew, but spent time with, and full-blooded siblings. In Cadell's world, such things didn't exist; death was too rampant, and people banded together with whoever they could survive alongside. It was true, however, that he had had a brother, full blooded and close to him in a way that he could never quite manage again with any of his mother's children. Owain had been 15 when he died. Cadell knew that this was a horrifically common occurrence, that he shouldn't spare any extra thought on it because it wasn't like he was the only person that had lost almost everybody he loved. As a soldier, he'd killed hundreds of men himself, murdered people's fathers and uncles and brothers, and it had just been the way it was. Losing Owain was supposed to be the same, just part of living when they did, but somehow it never was. Cadell knew it never would be, and part of him hated even knowing that peace had existed, once, that maybe if they'd been born just a couple centuries earlier he'd still have a father and a little brother. But that was an old wound, a scar that had healed up crooked and stiff, but healed none the less. Cadell didn't think about Owain too often these days. Of course, now that he'd given up soldiering, now that he figured he was too old to live through many more fights (how many men over 25 did you ever see on the battlefield anyway? Most people didn't live past 18 these days.) he had plenty of brothers. The monastery provided a family he could depend on to be there for him, and he, in turn, was able, with his brothers, to provide the small village below a fatherly sort of protection from the soldiers who were supposed to be protecting them. Nothing really worked like it should anymore. Sometimes, Cadell thought, as his eyes drifted over the currently silent scene below him, he did wish that he'd never learned to read. Really, the best times in his life had been when he was little, when he was nine and Owain was seven or so. Their communal siblings consisted mostly of girls and some slightly brutish elder boys, eager for violence and power, who Cadell could never bring himself to like. He'd always been thoughtful and curious, and Owain had been bright-eyed and clever, and the two of them had brilliant, useful chemistry as partners in crime. For the time and place they lived, their childhood was a happy one. Cadell hadn't even really known the significance of having a blood brother at the time, he'd never learned to place any kind of significance on something as irrelevant as which dead man had sired them, and sometimes he wished, deeply, that he'd remained ignorant, that he hadn't bothered to learn about the nonsensical, but deeply appealing concepts that the past had treasured. He learned about peace times, too, but the concept was so foreign that he couldn't entirely imagine it, much less yearn for it-- but he wasn't reluctant to admit that it did seem nice, if not a bit boring. The closest thing he could compare the idea to was when the soldiers would come, demanding their penance, and he and Owain would revel in their supreme masculinity and power. They never understood that they were being robbed, and their women, their sisters and mothers taken on whims, because at that age, none of that mattered to them. Even if it had, it was just the way things were. People died so often that racial survival depended on pregnancy. It didn't matter how children were conceived as long they were born healthy enough to grow, and to eventually join the war effort themselves. Still, visits from the soldiers always felt like parties when Cadell was little. They were so festive, so glad to get away from the fronts for however long, glad to eat, glad to play, glad to take, and Cadell always felt safe with them there. He felt as glad as they did, because nobody was ever happy the way these men were, and it was contagious, intoxicating. Of course Cadell loved them; he was too busy showing off with Owain, too busy following the soldiers around like puppies to see their mother crying. When the soldiers came, Cadell became Cadell ap Idris. He had a patronymic, and it mattered, because Idris had been a soldier too, and not just any soldier-- he born where Cadell was born, had grown up in love with their mother, she said. But he had left to defend his family, his country, because he loved them too. He never came back, but he had two boys with his name, and though Cadell couldn't remember Idris, or maybe because he couldn't, when the soldiers came, they were all his father. They were all here, specifically, to keep him safe. There was nothing like the feeling of safety, ignorant or otherwise, and when he read about peacetime, some ten years later, all he could think about was that utterly destroyed sensation of being protected, of being part of something big and special and invincible. He would never feel it again, nor was he expected to. At times like these, he really missed Owain. Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Tue Mar 09, 2010 5:21 pm
 Conor had never been a particularly light sleeper; even when his rib had broken back in the blood desert, he'd had very little trouble sleeping. Then again, the desert had been exhausting and Robert was as merciless as a drill instructor, but it stood to reason that coupling a fracture with the hard, desert floor might make it difficult to get good sleep. It wasn't, though, at least not for him. Tonight, though... He took a heavy pull from a cigarette, his back propped uncomfortably against the rickety headboard of their dirty, musky hotel bed and gazed, exhausted, through the open bathroom door. He could see one of Charlie's arms hanging over the lip of the cracked, plastic bathtub that Conor had demanded he sleep in when it came time to deciding who got the bed. The boy's fingers were twitching in his sleep, never quite grabbing for anything, but never still, and Conor couldn't help but wonder, with some trepidation, what the boy could possibly be dreaming about. It had become somewhat apparent several days ago that the kid wasn't sleeping well-- if he'd looked bad when they found him, he looked worse every night he spent near them, but Conor hadn't cared. Yamako took care of whatever had been going on with a couple of injections and some coddling, but now that it was just the two of them... This was the second night in a row Charlie had screamed in his sleep loud enough to wake Conor from a REM cycle. The first night had spooked him bad; he'd jumped out of bed, dizzy and still hardly conscious, to see what was wrong, only to find Charlie practically convulsing in the tub. He'd shaken him awake, slapped the kid for good measure, and then sat down on the bowing, plastic toilet lid to catch his breath. He left the hotel room when Charlie started crying. This time, he'd left the kid alone, lit a cigarette and waited to see how long it'd last. Really, it had only taken a couple minutes for Charlie to fall back into a sort of restless twitching, but it had been long enough. It was disturbing, the way the boy screamed. Conor had never, in his whole life, actually heard somebody sound that terrified, that lost, and it made him uncomfortable. Sure, after Hathor, after finding Charlie in that mess and almost frying up in the stupid blood desert only to get dumped on gray, depressing Chaska, he'd had nightmares too, but Charlie... He was something else. It made Conor wonder how long the kid had been alone in that town, and what, exactly, his dead brother could have done to upset Charlie so much that he'd practically thrown a fit when Yamako had simply mentioned his name. And yet "Rick" was the only word that Conor had actually been able to make out in the middle of all the deranged shrieking. Stranger still, it hadn't sounded hostile at all, and Conor realized that he had definitely been expecting it to. The fact that it wasn't was... confusing. From the other room, Charlie's hand began to make more definite movements, bumping against the tub, and Conor brought his attention back to the boy. Charlie was muttering again, quietly this time, but he didn't sound scared. When Conor realized the kid was crying, in his sleep this time, he grabbed his cigarettes and walked outside, locking the door quietly behind him as he left. Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Tue Mar 09, 2010 6:52 pm
Prompt #1 Introduction "Why hello, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Ms...?"Amelia turned her head and stared at the hopeful young man before her. It was a friend of her father's, one she had yet to meet. Her cold gaze pierced through him as she assessed him. He was a tall fellow, but that was about it. Nothing impressive, nothing outstanding. He was boring from the top of his ash blond hair to the tip of his polished boots. "Marbrook."The man blushed slightly at her as she gave him simply her last name, which was obvious since he knew her father. Her father cleared his throat slightly and she cast a baleful look his way. Was she to entertain such foolish fellows for the rest of her days? "This is my daughter, Amelia. Forgive her, she has been feeling ill as of late."The man nodded and looked a little relieved. She practically rolled her eyes as she imagined what was going through his mind. He was probably thinking of course it wasn't him, that she was simply in a sour mood and that he had nothing to do with it. She would have made a comment on it, saying she was feeling perfectly find thank you very much, but she knew better then to insult her father in front of anyone. She simply rose up from her seat and headed towards the door, mentioning something about her headache getting the better of her or something drawl like that. Amelia went up to her bedroom and dismissed her maid. She was bored. Bored of the parties, bored of the meetings with strangers or even acquaintances who thought only of their looks. There was no excitement, no exhilaration, only constant boredom. And wost of it all her father expected her to marry one of those boring people. She would practically die if she had to spend the rest of her life with a man named William or Edwin. A sigh escaped her lips and she glanced out her window. There sat a tall tree, it's branches thick and sturdy. She fancied herself climbing out of the window, escaping in to the night for an adventure. It would be fun and an escape from the constant boredom. She wondered as she walked over to the window, if she really could leave. Her father wouldn't be checking on her that evening and she had already sent her maid away. She could leave for the night, explore the city she only saw from a carriage window and see what she was missing. A smile formed on her lips as she thought of the idea. In a whirl she readied herself, ready to introduce herself to the unknown. She had borrowed one of her maids outfits, of course without informing her, and then she threw open the window. She hesitated, but only for a second before she was setting herself on the nearest branch. It stayed sturdy and this gave her the confidence she needed. She lowered herself from branch to branch until her feet lighted upon the ground. She glanced around, and after making sure no one had seen her, she started off in to the night. Adrenaline filled her as she started towards the town. She wasn't sure what kind of people where out at that time of night, but she knew it wouldn't be who she would normally associate herself with. Of course they would never know who she was dressed as she was. She didn't know which way to go, so she wandered. The streets where fairly deserted, but as she went a long she noticed some changes. The streets started to look less and less fancy, the buildings where losing their luster and the few people she saw started to look more and more ragged. She even noticed some scantly clad women who offended her morals. She started to feel uneasy. Started to wonder if her adventure was really as amazing as she thought it would be. She was about to turn round and head home when a group of men started to approach her. "Hey love, what's your name?"She could smell the stench of the drink on their breaths and she turned away. They didn't give up though. "Hey, don' turn 'way when we's talkin' to ya'." She ignored their cries and quickened her pace. Warning signs were going off in her brain and she was berating herself for wanting something exciting. Next time she wanted excitement she would just go riding. That would be plenty exciting. Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed her elbow. Indignation filled her and she turned around slapped the man. It was one of the drunks. "Unhand me this instant you...you scoundrel!"Anger flashed through his eyes and the other two laughed. "S-Scoundrel! That's a riot!"Their annoying laughter grated on her nerves and the man refused to let go. He grinned a toothy grin at her, his eyes still blazing. "An' what if'in I say no?"Her eyes narrowed, giving him her coldest stare. "Then I shall report you to the constable. He shall deal with you promptly."All three started in on their laughter and the man leaned closer. "I ain't scared of the constable, love. 'Sides, you probably won' be able ta talk when's we're done wit ya."Fear, real, bone chilling fear gripped her and she struggled against his grip. He still refused to let go. She was about to scream when one of the men went down behind him. "Eh?"He turned to look as the other was suddenly felled. His grip loosened on her and she shoved him away. She then saw the man go down and behind him was a tall, dark and extremely handsome man. His cold gaze surveyed the men, watching for any movement. After a few moments, which gave her enough time to catch her breath, he started to walk away. "W-Wait!"He stopped mid stride and turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"He said, his voice sounding bored. She faltered for a moment, but then kept on. "Please, can you walk me back? I-I'm afraid of getting attacked again."He paused for a moment, sighed, then turned to stand next to her. "Where do you live?"She smiled slightly, glad to have the protection of this devastatingly gorgeous man. "Canterbury."His eyebrow raised again, slight confusion on his face. "What are you doing out here at this hour?"His voice was deep and resounded deep within her. She felt her heart flutter as she gazed at him, but kept it to herself. "[I was...exploring."He gave her an odd look before starting forward. He hardly looked at her, but when he did she saw something in his eyes, something burning perhaps? It melted her very soul. He walked in silence and she didn't feel like breaking it. It took them awhile to reach her home, but when they did she hesitated, glancing up at him. "I suppose I can leave now?"She stopped and looked up at him. She was about to thank him kindly and bid him leave when their eyes met. Something sparked between them. His burned with such fire she could scarcely fathom it. Without warning he approached her and let his fingers brush through her hair. She gasped slightly at the way his touch felt against her skin. His fingers stroked down her cheek then down her neck, leaving a hot trail. He leaned forward, his eyes gazing in to hers. Their lips where a breath apart and she could hardly stand. When he finally kissed her she could hardly support herself. Luckily his large hand was pressed to her back. She melted in to him. It was a long kiss, full of passion and lust. One that she could hardly fathom, one that took her breath away. She wanted it to last forever, but it didn't. He pulled away and turned from her, leaving her blushing and hot. He started to walk away and she felt her heart break. "Wait!"She cried out and he stopped and turned to look at her. "What is your name?"She practically begged. She had to know for if she was to live a life without seeing him she wanted to at least have a name to dream of. Yet instead of a name he gave her a small smile that could break any heart. "I'm afraid introductions will have to wait."Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 3:19 pm
Hehehe...These are always fun to do when I have writers block. I'll start with Introduction.
# 1
I walked into a dark room, illuminated by a single lamp ,dangling like a spider from the ceiling, ready to bite its next victim with its deadly venom. A man sat behind a desk, silhouetted against the light produced by the lamp. The door slammed behind me, and I walked forward.
"Please, sit."
I sat anxiously in the wooden chair provided. I knew this man's type. Greedy, narcissistic, paranoid; Almost all of my clients were like the one sitting before me.
"Greetings, Mercenary."
Such a common introduction. Like nobody ever bothered to call me by my alias.
"From what I've heard, you're...experienced in your work."
I grunted, throwing a sharp shuriken into the air and catching it, like young children do with balls.
"Good. I have a job for you."
"Seriously? I hadn't guessed."
More lights turned on, and I could see my client clearly now. My client was a tall but thin man, wearing an obnoxiously white suit and a pitch black collar. In his coat pocket was a black rose, thorn less, of course. Nobody would want their own coat stabbing them in the chest, now would they?
Behind me were two heavy guards, dressed in black suits with dark tinted sunglasses and large machine aimed at me, in case I tried to do anything detrimental to my client's health.
"The man hosting the cocktail party tonight, Komotov, has lived a long, luxurious life. Supposedly, he has hundreds of millions of dollars locked up in a safe in his office."
"You want me to steal it?"
"No, no. You don't need to steal anything. All you need to do is break a little hole in his security, big enough for, say, a small army to get in through."
"Alright."
"Good. Now go."
"The money. I want ten percent, along with my service fees."
"It's yours. Now go."
I left through the entrance I came in, and was escorted to the exit of his estate. The moon shone red against the dark sheet of night sky.
Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
If you have any recommendations as to how I can improve my writing, please PM me or post a comment. Thank you for your support!
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Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2010 5:57 pm
# Something
No Way Out
(Some terms may not be understood without some basic knowledge of the Final Fantasy Series)
Today has been a really dark day so far.
It all started right as I woke up to find cat pee all over my bed. After cleaning it up, I went to school, and miserably failed a test I never had the chance to study for, due to the fact that I was so busy cleaning cat pee. And now, this.
I suppose it might end my boring existence here in Sterom, my home for the past 15 years, but still, this day is very haunting. I often have nightmares about it. That terrible laugh...
Anywho, it was dinner time, I was actually hurrying home; tonight was taco night, after all, and as I was hurrying home, I heard the whir of propellers. Only one vehicle in the entire world has propellers, and that is: The Airship.
Hundreds of monstrous black machines soared across the sky, as thunder boomed in the distance and lightning slashed across the bleak, cloud-filled sky, and out from the hulls of the airships came hundreds of missiles, spiraling downward through the rain, a strike of a quick yet painful death, and everything burned. I soon realized that there was no escape from this maelstrom of fire, had it not been for the heroic figure who managed to put out a flame barring the only way out.
I ran. I never turned back, not for a second, in fear that there would be a missile plummeting toward me.
After dashing through the dense jungle coated with vines and fallen trees waiting to trip me when I let my guard down, I reached a hill from which I could see the dying town. I could feel the intense heat from the flames, even from my safe hill, and I could hear the screams of unfortunate men and women burning to death in the storm of fire.
Not a single inch was free of flames. Was I the only survivor? Did the man who saved me escape as well? Suddenly, I heard it. A maniacal laugh broke through the sounds of the rapidly spinning propellers, the impact of missiles, and the roar of the flames. The laugh was like something no human could ever make. The trees shook in fear, and any animals that were nearby scurried as far away as they could, fearing death just as much as I was.
Several years later, I would return here to swear my vengeance upon this evil man, but for now, my only thought was to get somewhere safe. But what was safe when this could happen? What was safe from the rain of fire, the rain of Death? What was safe from this lunatic who led the attack? Surely even the most heavily defended cities would be crippled under the shear power of this deranged man and his fleets of airships!
So all I can do now is run, and hope that I am never found by the likes of him.
Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
If you have any recommendations as to how I can improve my writing, please PM me or post a comment. Thank you for your support!
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Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2010 6:16 pm
Some Number
Hold My Hand
"Hold my hand!" she said, reaching out with her arm expectantly, "If we're going to start dating, you need to act like my boyfriend! Come on, please?" she asked, trying her best to look cute, with her puppy dog eyes and quivering lip.
"Alright." I said, reluctantly, although once we began holding hands, I realized how soft her hand was and how warm and light it felt. I wondered why I had been so reluctant to even touch her only a few minutes ago. We walked into the restaurant, still holding hands, and once we were seated, we decided what to order.
"How about the Spaghetti Dinner for two?" she asked, placing emphasis on the word "two". After looking through the menu, feeling how wonderfully amazing her hand felt, I really couldn't say no, despite my preference of the pepperoni pizza.
We ordered the Spaghetti Dinner for two, and waited for the waiter to return with our dinner, eating the garlic bread in the rose laden basket between us. We talked a lot, mainly about unimportant topics, such as whether ninjas have no love or if they love you to death, and finally, the waiter returned with our meal for two.
We ate it, both of us expecting to be eating the same noodle and kiss like in that movie from long ago, but unfortunately, that never happened. As I ate, I felt the warmth radiating from her hand, how smooth it felt, how wonderful it was to be with her, holding hands.
And that is how we left the restaurant. From then on, she never had to ask me to hold her hand. It was just something we did naturally.
Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 5:04 pm
*sigh* It's been so long since I've done one of these...Which one will I do today...Let's do...
Precious Treasure
"Natiya, my precious treasure, please!"
"But Zane, look at you! You're drunk, wasted...I don't know what I ever saw in you!"
I was on my knees, looking up into her eyes. My right hand held a bottle; my left hand held my tears.
"Natiya, it doesn't have to be like this! I can change! Promise me you'll wait. Three months, that's all I ask! I can get myself sorted out, get these bills paid. This town will be eating out of our hands someday! Please, Natiya! Three months!"
"No, this isn't the life I wanted! Our electricity, our water, both of them are gone, because you always need to go and get a drink!" As she said this, she was walking toward the refrigerator, which at this point did not work, much like everything else in our house that ran on electricity.
"No, Natiya. Please don't!"
She reached in and pulled out each and every alcoholic beverage, and threw them upon the ground, the drops spilling across the floor, mingling with my tears. "I'll leave you to clean up your mess, Zane. I've packed my bags, and I'm leaving. Goodbye!"
And with that, she left. My precious treasure slipped right through my drunken hands, like sand. Like water, that gives life. She was gone, and I was thirsty. Thirsty for my precious treasure, to hold her in my arms again, to hear her voice, even if it was her yelling at me, it didn't matter anymore. I just needed her back.
Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 2:04 pm
Hahaha I guess I'll do a poem today.
Heaven
What the World Is Like Without Forgiveness
I walk my tightrope across the infernos
Watching the others around me fall into the flames, with no way to get up
I close my eyes, balancing myself perfectly
"I just need to focus," I tell myself
And I do
I focus all my efforts on walking this tightrope
Perfection
And the other side
Heaven
Is within reach
I can feel the joy emanate from the passage
But it does not appear to harbor any souls
What if I'm the only one there?
What if I'm alone?
What if...
I slipped.
Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 9:59 pm
Warning for teh ghey. Yep. Warned. Moving sucked. Fortunately, Henri had never really owned too many personal possessions, but that hadn't kept him from bending a fingernail backwards while he was fumbling with boxes. At least he'd been able to hire somebody to carry his mattress up the steep, claustrophobic stairs to the upper loft. Honestly, it was about all the money he had left, but watching the movers struggling convinced him it was worth it. Besides, after that, all he had was a box of clothes and a lamp to carry. Not even a frame for his bed. All of the rest of his attention and effort went into the bakery; he already knew everything he'd need for what he wanted to do-- and thank God the place had already been outfitted. Of course that was part of the reason he and Linda had chosen this particular location to set up, but he couldn't help but feel more than lucky as he meandered around the kitchen, setting things up. God, he was going to be in debt forever. Then again, maybe part of him was counting on just that to keep him grounded; maybe if he felt like he didn't have the option to ******** up, he'd try harder. ********. He hoped he'd stay grounded. For the first time in his whole goddamn life things were going right-- and he hated feeling like it was only a matter of time before he went crazy again and ******** everything up. After all, it had happened too many times to count already, hadn't it? It was realistic to expect that he'd do something stupid again. At least he'd try to take his time before he fell headlong into disaster. The bakery was on a side of town he'd never lived near before, and it helped not knowing anybody that might draw him back into all that s**t he was trying to get away from, but still... being back in London made him uneasy. It made him think about all the people he'd left, all the things he'd done before he'd gone, all the reasons he'd needed to run in the first place. Sometimes, he couldn't help but think about James. Oh, for ******** sake, who was he kidding? He'd been thinking about James for the past five years, and it wasn't like he was going to stop any time soon anyway. England smelled like James to Henri, felt like James, looked like James. Sometimes it almost made him wish he'd never come back. Hell, but where would he have gone? France? His mother had been from France... but no. He'd already learned German, even some Turkish, he'd already been homeless and hungry long enough, and he was just... done. He wanted a job, wanted a place of his own, wanted to be okay without being drunk every night. He didn't want to watch the people he loved change anymore. He didn't want to be stuck doing things he knew he never, ever should have started doing in the first place. He didn't want to feel like he'd do anything just be somebody he wasn't anymore. God, he'd been an idiot. Maybe the hardest part was that now, with all that behind him, and everything he wanted in front of him, he still didn't feel grown up. Didn't feel responsible. He just felt... older. He tried not to think about how tired he got these days, but it was better than not being able to remember year-sized chunks of his own life. He was on anti-depressants now, trying to stay the hell away from Lithium and self-medication for the first time in what, eight years? But he knew it wasn't going to be easy. He was trying to start all over, trying to stay sane and motivated, trying to be okay with being alone, and... it was hard. Henri hated being alone. He knew that part of this was because he was manic-depressive, and he knew that he made terrible decisions when he was manic... but he also knew that there wasn't much of a point to thinking about it too hard. He was a different person when he was manic, and any advice he could give himself now wouldn't matter. It was kind of scary when he thought about it like that. Sitting up on his sheetless mattress at the end of the day, looking out the french windows at his small, iron-railed balcony, he started to wish that he attracted more responsible people. He wished he had somebody who could help him when he got crazy-- That had been Pick for a while, until she got lost in all the stuff he'd brought her into. After that, she hadn't been his anymore. It was his own fault. He still felt sick when he thought of what he'd left her with, but he'd begged her to come with him, and she'd refused. She felt like she had something there, and maybe she did-- but it wasn't any way to live. He never wanted to think about how sure he was that that was the last time he'd ever see her. He tried to stay optimistic about it, but mostly that just meant trying not to think about her. He'd left before she'd even had her baby because he couldn't stand the idea of bringing a child into the places they'd been living. He wished he could have been stronger for her, wished he could have pulled her out, or even just stayed with her to help her get better-- but he knew that it had been all he could do to leave. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer there. After all that, though, nothing had hurt worse than seeing his father again. He'd cried. His father had cried. He'd compounded this image of his father as such a sick and horrible, hateful man in his mind, and the only reason he'd come back at all is because he was so far gone that he didn't care anymore. He just needed help. Honestly, he'd almost expected to be turned away or railed upon, but no... And now here he was, clean, healthy, in charge of his very own cafe and bakery... Well, it was his step mother's, really, but in a way it was his. He wished James could see him like this, on medication, on good terms with his father, his own place, a steady job for more than six months... Henri had been back in the country for over a year now, and he'd been working with Linda in one of her cafe's the whole time. He'd saved for doctor's appointments and second-hand clothes, and now, after a year, she was so impressed with his flare for cooking and coffee that she'd let him go off on his own. That and he badly needed a place of his own. He could never thank her enough for understand that, for being the mother he'd always needed, even if it had only been for a year. She was so good for his father. There was, of course, a little part of Henri that hated seeing his father so happy and whole, because it just made him realize how little he'd understood him, how sad and unhappy the man had been Henri's whole life, and how little Henri had done to try and help. Well, they were both ******** up. Now, maybe, they'd get better. Henri just wished that it had happened sooner. He wondered if James ever thought about him anymore. Maybe he was married. Maybe he'd just completely erased Henri from his mind all together-- he wouldn't have been surprised. He'd always known that James had never, for a second, actually wanted to be in a real relationship with Henri, but that something had kept them together anyway. Maybe it was just hormones or teen-age rebellion, or maybe the devil was real, and he just wanted to devour James's Irish Catholic soul. Was it love if it was one-sided? Out of all the things he'd lost and thrown away and burned over the years, Henri had managed to hang onto that picture he'd taken of James's broken nose. No matter how many times he'd told himself to throw the ******** thing away, he'd never been able to bring himself to actually do it. Maybe he just wasn't ready to let go yet, or maybe he just missed the feeling of being in love... He'd been with a lot of people since he'd left five years ago, but he'd never again, even for a second, felt the way he felt about James. It was good to know he was capable of feeling that way at all, and maybe that was why he couldn't get rid of the picture. Sometimes his heart just needed a reminder of how good life could really be. Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 10:02 pm
Warning for blood and stuff. Inis was exhausted, though he could hardly imagine how Ashley must bee feeling; he'd had it so much worse. He must be so deeply beyond tired after their long flight from captivity, and now he was prepping himself to be on the receiving end of a fairly painful procedure that, had the person doing it been a highly skilled orthodontist instead of an awkward mechanic, would still require more than just whiskey to dull the pain. But whiskey was all they had, and Ashley kept insisting they share. “Nothing you could ever do could hurt me more than they already have,” Ashley kept reminding Inis through his clenched teeth. “They cu' open my ********' face an' drilled a plate inta my jaw. While I was awake.” He paused to take a wrathful swig from the Jack Daniel's bottle and then said, “Jus' get these ********' wires off.” After Ash had broken his jaw, they'd cut him open and screwed a plate into his bones. Then they'd wired the arch bars to his teeth and tied them together. It hadn't taken long for Ash's gums to grow down around the wires; it wasn't like they had let him floss. In fact, from the look of his mouth, it seemed as though they'd gone out of their way to leave the wires sharp and uncomfortable; Ash's gums and the insides of his lips were covered in not quite infected little sores. The funny thing, Innis thought, was that everything they'd done was standard mandibular fracture and facial reconstruction procedure. That was they way they did things, though. They manipulated things, turned the procedures that were, in theory, supposed to be helpful into torture. When they'd escaped, Ash made it clear that the first thing they had to do was get those damn wires off his teeth before his jaw calcified shut. Neither of them were doctors, not even close, but Ash had brought up the example of a group of people in Asia, he thought, who walked around with their hands in the air until their shoulders froze that way. He didn't think he could cope with living the rest of his life not being able to open his mouth. Innis didn't blame him. Ash was half starved as it was, and in the past few days since they'd been on their own, one of the hardest things to find on the fly was anything that Ash could not only consume, but sustain himself on as they fled. Innis had no idea how Ash had managed to keep going. Inis was having enough trouble finding the energy to continue himself, and he could eat anything he wanted. Tonight they were in a cheap motel bathroom, each of them perched on the cracked, plastic tub, passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth while Inis tried not to stare at Ashley's scars. Though the T-shaped scar on his face was perhaps the most easily identifiable and wretched to think on, it wasn't the only thing that had happened to him in the Hell's Hospital, as Inis liked to call the place. He'd come in with a broken jaw, broken ribs, a broken arm and several superficial cuts and wounds-- not to mention a partially severed finger that they hadn't actually bothered to sew back on straight. He told Inis that his facial piercings hadn't actually been ripped out until after he got to the hospital. It made Inis feel sick. Still, most of his wounds were on the way to healing, and they'd actually kept his finger from becoming gangrenous, presumably because they liked having their toys in good shape before they broke them again, and the only really raw wounds Ash still had were in his mouth. Inis didn't know how much longer he could watch Ashley hiss and wince as the whiskey burned at all the raw little corkscrew cuts and nicks inside the boy's mouth. His teeth were in bad shape. His whole mouth was, really. Inis couldn't say he was particularly looking forward to the task at hand, either. The pair of needle nose pliers they'd borrowed from the front desk were resting on the dirty sink, waiting for Ash to give the green light. They really should have gone to a hospital, but in light of the circumstances, they'd had to make do with the pliers. Not exactly dental equipment, but it was all they had. Ash took his last swig of whiskey, as Inis turned the pliers over in his fingers, draining the rest of the bottle in several gulps before shaking his head violently and slapping his palms down on his thighs. “Holy ********, I can' feel my ********' legs,” he growled, wiping some spit off his chin with the back of his forearm. “Le's do this.” Without the benefit of an anesthetic, borderline alcohol poising would have to be sufficient. Inis just hoped it would make it easier on him as well- Ash might be the on in pain, but Inis didn't like the idea of actually being the one causing it... Even though he knew he was helping, in the long run. Mumbling something agreeable, Inis swayed a little on the lip of the tub as he leaned over to grab the pliers. 'Now or never,' he thought, feeling the heat of the whiskey settling in over his nose and lips like a mask. ******** it. “Open up,” he commanded with a degree of authority that startled him. Ashley did as he was told, however, grinning eerily as he leaned forward and presented his ruined teeth to Inis, who, despite the alcohol, was fighting the urge to recoil. “Come on, man,” Ash said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “Do I gotta do this shi' myself? This drunk? I'll cut my face off, man.” “No, no,” Inis said quickly, shaking his head and then wishing he hadn't. “I'm okay. Sorry.” “That bad, huh?” Ash said, looking up at the ceiling as Inis steeled himself and leaned in towards Ashley's scarred and twisted grin with the pliers, looking for the most appropriate wire to start untangling. He wished they could have gotten their hands on a pair of damn wire cutters. Before he could decide, however, Ash popped his finger into his mouth and pulled back his left cheek, trying to voice some unintelligible instructions. Though Inis didn't have a clue what Ashley was trying to say, it became pretty clear where Ash wanted him to start working. Inis almost gagged, actually, as he tried to inspect a deep, probably infected wound on the inside of Ash's cheek. It was clearly caused by one of many improperly cut wires that Inis couldn't help but feel like they'd left that way on purpose. Either way, it was obvious why Ash wanted him to start there. Until Ash grinned lopsidedly and nodded, Inis hadn't even realized he was wincing. “Okay,” he breathed, moving in with the little pliers again, navigating around Ashley's dirty finger and filthy, white wounds to clamp onto the thin, sharp edge of wire. Ash started making little noises of discomfort as Inis fiddled patiently with the wires. Later, when Ash had started bleeding, Inis had made him lean forward to keep him from choking. It kept Ash from guzzling down blood on top of an empty stomach full of whiskey, but there was no way to keep it from dripping down Inis's arms in sticky rivers as he tried to twist the wires free from Ashley's teeth. It was lucky blood didn't bother Inis; Ash, on the other hand, was on the verge of fainting by the time Inis had gotten both of the bars free, but Inis didn't blame him. It had taken almost an hour, and Ash was weak enough as it was. The smell of blood and spit and alcohol was thick in the air, heavy and metallic, and slightly sour in a way that Ash couldn't stand even at his best. The thing that really shook Inis up, however, was when Ash, reasonably overeager after months of not being able to open his mouth, had immediately wrenched his teeth apart before Inis, the wires still clenched in his pliers, had even gotten the bars an inch away from Ashley's bloody lips. He didn't think Ash had even meant to do it, that he'd gotten so used to trying to stretch his jaws without success that what he'd done had been more of a sort of thoughtless spasm. Until then, Ash had taken everything in a reasonable sort of silence, even making pathetic, uncomfortable, stifled attempts at laughter while he drooled blood all over Inis and the floor. The noise he'd made when he'd wrenched his jaw had been shocking in its severity and intimidating enough to make Inis gasp in surprise and almost drop the pliers on the sticky bathroom floor. It had started as a slow growl that crescendoed into a deep, furious scream of aggressive frustration and pain. Ashley immediately doubled over and cupped his chin in the soft flesh of his palms while Inis looked on, shaken, frozen and not quite sure how to respond. After that, Ash had cursed once, quietly, and dropped his head level with his knees while he tried to catch his breath. It took Inis a moment to recover as well-- his initial feeling had been an unnerving, instinctual fear that sucked his breath right out of his chest. His heart was still jarring his ribs as he reached up and dropped the arch bars into the sink a minute later. "This is so ******** up," Ash murmured without really opening his mouth. Inis couldn't argue. “We've got another bottle,” was all he said, looking down at the blood on his hands and wishing he wasn't so drunk. He needed to find some soap in a bad way. “Vodka.” “I'm about to throw up already,” Ash managed to say without really moving his jaw. “I hate blood.” Inis pushed himself up and around until he could reach the faucet in the tub, which was easier than standing up to reach the sink. The metal stuck to the pads of his fingers briefly as he twisted the water on. “You sure bled a lot,” he said conversationally. Ash shrugged and pushed himself off the edge of the tub so he could slump against it. “Alcohol is an anti-coagulant,” he said, his words trembling with exhaustion. “Most of it is probably drool anyway.” “Yeah,” was all Inis could think to say. He wanted a ******** cigarette. Introduction | Love | Light | Dark | Seeking Solace | Break Away | Heaven | Innocence | Drive | Breathe Again | Memory | Insanity | Misfortune | Smile | Silence | Questioning | Blood | Rainbow | Gray | Fortitude | Vacation | Mother Nature | Cat | No Time | Trouble Lurking | Tears | Foreign | Sorrow | Happiness | Under the Rain | Flowers | Night | Expectations | Stars | Hold My Hand | Precious Treasure | Eyes | Abandoned | Dreams | Rated | Teamwork | Standing Still | Dying | Two Roads | Illusion | Family | Creation | Childhood | Stripes | Breaking the Rules | Sport | Deep in Thought | Keeping a Secret | Tower | Waiting | Danger Ahead | Sacrifice | Kick in the Head | No Way Out | Rejection | Fairy Tale | Magic | Do Not Disturb | Multitasking | Horror | Traps | Playing the Melody | Hero | Annoyance | 67% |Obsession | Mischief Managed | I Can't | Are You Challenging Me? | Mirror | Broken Pieces | Test | Drink | Starvation | Words | Pen and Paper | Can You Hear Me? | Heal | Out Cold | Spiral | Seeing Red | Food | Pain | Through the Fire | Triangle | Drowning | All That I Have | Give Up | Last Hope | Advertisement | In the Storm | Safety First | Puzzle | Solitude | Relaxation
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Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 10:08 pm
 When Ash wakes up in the morning, he spends about a half an hour throwing up nothing just outside his hotel door. His finger tips are bleeding and one of his nails, he discovers, is cracked down into the quick, but he's too dehydrated to care. It's not really morning, he decides, or it was and then it wasn't anymore, he doesn't know which or why it matters, but he realizes, as he crawls into the shade of the motel's porch, that he is very much alone. Inis is gone, or he never really was there at all, and Ash, for the ******** life of him, doesn't know which. The wires on his teeth are gone too, all except his arch bars, which, he feels stupid for not realizing before, are actually sort of glued onto his teeth. He needs water. Looking out into the sun, he can see a dirty iron pump hidden away in the midst of acres of desert scrub brush. Yards... Miles. But somewhere in the distance, maybe close, maybe just unfathomably huge and far away, everything ends in a sheer, muted red cliff face. Mostly gray, really, Ash thinks as spots begin to swim inside his eyes, and he starts to wonder if he's really dying this time. Or already dead. It doesn't really seem like anything has any color here. He wants to cry, he realizes; he's so ******** alone that it doesn't matter anymore, but he's too thirsty, and just too goddamn tired. He stares at the pump again, wonders if its real, wonders if its just some stupid pipe sticking out of the ground. It occurs to him that last night, or, whenever it had been—when had it been? there had been running water inside. He picks himself up and stumbles through the door, only to realize that this is isn't the same place he went to sleep in. No, it is. It has to be. Ash realizes he recognizes the layout, but it smells different, and he's sure, he's so sure that he didn't go to sleep this alone. There was somebody there with him, somebody just in the room, or in the other room, the bathroom, somebody who cared enough to just wallow in Ashley's blood. He needs water. He needs water now. There are leaves in the sink and a dead rodent in the bathtub and Ash decides to just give up. He remembers the hospital, but he doesn't remember getting here and he doesn't remember not being here either, and he knows that he was alone for so long that he shouldn't care about being alone anymore. But someone was here, he wasn't alone, and he was getting better, feeling better, anyway, and... Stepping outside again makes him blind. The sun is so ******** bright and he feels like he hasn't seen it in years. Entirely possible. He has no sense of time anymore, hasn't in days. Years. Months. Minutes. He stumbles out to the pipe in the ground and finds a no trespassing sign on the red, gritty dirt. The cliff face is feet away from him-- is it? but it takes him hours to walk to the river. He can smell it. Smell the water. Smell the mud and the plants, and he just wants to drink it all and then ******** sob until the salt burns out his eyes. The water is so cold, and the sand is so hot. Ash hates them both.
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