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 Posted: Tue Feb 03, 2009 10:54 pm
Short Story, Entry #1
Silverstone
The sun had just barely begun to rise over the mountains and it had already chased away all but the bravest and most starved coyotes. But instead of the rays of light making everything look fresh and new, it only served to highlight the thin layer of dust and sand that covered every building, every car, every memory of the past, and every dream for the future. There was one house, however, that from which two young men emerged and shined in the fresh sunlight. One of these men, Marty O'Hare, was an adventurer at heart with a simple desire to enjoy himself while the other, named Richard Anderson, had great aspirations of owning his own business and had the right mind for the job. These men hadn't known each other for very long, but they both wanted to get out of Silverstone, California and that was reason enough for them to travel together.
The two men briskly walked down the town's only main street, past all the stores that were just opening their doors for the morning commute like they had this time every morning for countless dusty years. They walked by the only stoplight and past the single K-12 school, and they didn't even stop at the bar Marty had spent every Friday night at since he could remember. The bar, the corner store, the church, the whole town had become a stranger to Marty, a stranger made up of faces he used to know and grew up with. These people Marty didn't care for anymore... he hadn't cared since his wife had finally succumbed to the cancer that had been eating at her. Oh, Emma... she always loved Silverstone, and she always knew the old mining town would be her final resting place. But it wouldn't be Marty's. Emma was the anchor that had kept Marty happily harbored in Silverstone, but with her gone he no longer had a reason to stay. Maybe Texas, maybe New York, maybe Italy... anywhere but Silverstone...
"Marty," a voice said behind him. He didn't want to turn, didn't want to deal with any more strange faces, but Emma would have wanted him to. Marty turned to face an old thin man, a man who used to be called Mr. Thatcher... he used to be Emma's favorite teacher... "Marty, I'm sorry. I--we should've seen the signs, we should've told her to go back for another test..." Marty didn't say anything, there was nothing he had to say to this man.
"Mr. O'Hare, are you coming?" Richard asked. The old man looked into Marty's eyes and opened his mouth. There was something else he wanted to say to Marty, something important... but whatever it was he never said it. The man instead turned and walked back into the dust without another word and Marty continued towards the train station by Richard's side. They arrived at the station just as the train was pulling in, but before stepping onto the platform Marty stopped. He had spotted a bush of golden poppy flowers nearby... Emma had always loved them so. Marty plucked a few, though he wasn't sure why... he used to collect them every chance he could on his walks and he would give them to Emma when he got home. Still, he placed them in his breast pocket and stepped onto the boarding platform. "Is there anything else you need to take care of before we depart?" Richard asked, more so out of habit than want. When Marty didn't say anything, Richard boarded the train and Marty followed behind, and once they had been seated the train lurched and was off. Marty tried to have one last look at the old town, but by the time he had it had almost entirely been enveloped by the dusty air. Goodbye, Silverstone.
Goodbye, Emma.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 7:34 am
Short Story; 1st Entry
The Conquered
Have you ever fallen in love with someone you've never met before and will probably never meet? Well...have you? ...I thought so...I have and it's been eating me up inside. I remember seeing his face as my grandfather drove by. The roughness of his face, the sadness in his eyes seemed to capture me. I was in complete rapture and I never wanted to leave. Not ever. I wanted to stay in that car and stare up at him. I wanted to wonder how his lips felt against my fingertips, my hand, and my own lips. I wanted to...imagine so much more, but he was gone. He had been gone for a while now, but I had burned his image into the back of my mind, terrified to let him go. Fearing I would never see him again.
Since the moment my grandfather had driven by and my eyes had lingered on his image. And as the drive continued my gradfather asked what I' d been staring at. I remained silent, pondering my answer before telling him the partial truth., 'I saw a man, Grandpa. A simple man standing behind barred windows. One who I fell in love with and now yearn to see once more... Whose arms I want around me and whose heat I beg to feel against my skin...' I wish I could have told him everything, but in the end he simply wouldn't understand. Instead I simply said, "I saw a man,"
As the drive wore on we continued into the countryside. One by one the cars dwindled till we were the only ones left on the road, surrounded on eash by miles and miles of trees. Emerald leaves and chocolate trunks blended together as we rushed by. Grandpa was muttering on about something when he mentioned a prison. Then it hit me. He was an inmate. The barbed wire fences, the guard towers...everything! How could I have missed it!?
It couldn't be! I refused to believe it, but it was too late. My mind had accepted the evidence, but my heart played it off as trickery. Those eyes. Oh! Those eyes. They don't belong to a hardened criminal. No, there's something more. They belonged to an injured man. One who was not given due process. A man who was simply thrown into a cage like an animal.
I feel such an ache in my heart as it pounds in my chest. This overwhelming greif. A grief I would've felt had I truely known and lost him. But what am I to do? Should I go back ? And if I do, what happens next? Would I have the courage to pull aside a guard, take him outside and say, "There. That window. That cell. What is the name of the man who resides there? What is the name of the man I've fallen in love with?" All while pointing at those barred windows at the very top. There's no doubt that he will laugh. He will laugh wholeheartedly as he escorts me out. And when I leave he will share his laughter with his co-workers and then with his wife over dinner.
To be honest, I don't blame him. As this car goes on my chances to once again meet that man's mournful gaze dwindle to equal the ashes that remain after a rampant fire.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 7:48 am
Short Story; 2nd Entry
War's Little Secret
One by one, the fallen stood and the dead sang. The weary smiled and the injured laughed. What was this feeling? Was it pain? Sorrow? No...Not at all. Joy filled their hearts as their leader's eyes rose to meet them for the final time. They stood proudly, ignoring their pain and ignoring their sorrow. They stood watching their idol fall. The faintest of smiles laying on his lips. His pained eyes slowly closing. For him, there will be no hero's welcome nor a wondrous feast. What awaited him was eternal sleep. Sweet Serenity enveloped him in her tender grasp, raising his noble soul to the heavens above. From there, he will take it upon himself to watch over those he swore to protect. To lend his strength to the weak and his faith to the lost.
But there he laid, smile on his pallid lips. His lifeless body carried by those who so diligently followed his word. He was to be buried in the land of his birth, but fear not. This brave soul did not depart from this war stricken land without leaving his mark. For in the womb of his precious wife, lies the life he exchanged with his own.
Her hands caress her swollen belly as her lips whisper sweet nothings to the unborn child. The tears flow freely from her eyes as her lips curve into a smile. The news had not yet reached her, but in her heart she had known her husband's fate. But why is it that they both smile? Are they not sad? Does he not care? Does she not grieve?
There is no need to think. The answer is quite simple, the child in her womb will forever be the link between our valiant warrior and his sweet maiden.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 8:41 am
Short Story; 3rd EntryInescapable Truths
Note: I know it's a bit on the lengthy side and there are something in there that aren't too bad, but please let me know if I should omit anything.Her body was strewn upon the pillow-top bed, far gone into the land of dreams to be bothered with reality. She seemed so at peace, even as her undergarments peeked out from beneath her shorts and tank. A corner of her black and grey striped thong followed by the top of her black bra which peeked out indescriminantely from the top of the white tank. There was no sheet to conceal her form; having been discarded in her early throws of slumber.
One would say that in her position, it would be hard to sleep. Arms curled over her head, legs slightly beent and flat on her back... Almost as if a silent ballet was being performed.
Silence filled the room as she laid on her bed. A bed which seemed like it was made for two, but instead harbored one. She had bought it in the midst of a steamy yet rocky relationship, her naive mind had somehow led her to believe the young man would suggest their living together, but instead smiled and ran off with his ex. There were no tears on her behalf, nor on his for that matter, but their was an air filled with tension and disappointment between them. But a year and a half had passed since and then when she learned he had married and started a family of his own. The news had brought tears to her eyes and produced a painful ache in her heart. He had stolen her dream.
It was the same dream she had harbored in her heart as a child. The dream all little girls have, but soon abandon as their innocence fades. She wanted to be made a bride, a proper wife and mother. She yearned for the headaches and stresses that came with planning a wedding, the tears that accompanied the vows and finally the sweet sounds of love making during the honeymoon. But alas here she was in her profound sleep, escaping the malice of her reality.
However, her current state suited both her and her forgotten guest as the door to her room was slowly and quietly cracked open. Her guest wasn't in much of a rush, instead he took his time entering while his eyes carefully scanned the smokey dawn filled room. They continued their careful search till his eyes finally settled on her. The sight making his heart skip a beat and the heat rise to his cheeks. He cursed quietly. Even in her sleep, the very sight of her rendered him powerless. His close friend and secret love.
He approached. His naked feet moving silently atop the carpet, allowing only the rustling of his jeans to be heard. She didn't stir and soon he found himself at her bedside recalling when he arrived the previous night. The memory made him wince in embarassment. The clock had just hit midnight when he had knocked on her door, heartbroken and in need of his dear friend. He had kept her up till one o'clock with his sob story before she offered him the extra room to stay the night. He fondly recalled the flutter of his heart to the thought of being under the same ceiling as the love of his life. His eyes glazed over as he remembered the way her hips swayed when she walked away. Lost in the memory he could feel a smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the heat in his cheeks continue to rise.
Forcing himself out of thought, he glanced at the clock watching as a minute went by. 6:30 It read in bright green numbers, as if it were screaming to him that his time with her was limited. It bothered him as he felt the weight of that minute settle on his broad shoulders, his mind debating whether he should take his leave from her room. In the end his affection for her won out and he remained. His eyes finally settled on her, better yet, they finally focused on her. They started from her feet and continued up her smooth legs, simply glancing at the undergarment that peeked forth from beneath her shorts as they continued their journey upward. His eyes found her breasts and remained steady for a moment, watching as it rose and fell with her steadied breathing. He felt his breathing almost stop as he looked at the mounds of soft pliable flesh perched sweetly on her chest. The longing in his heart rose to a level he had never felt before. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and simply hold her close, feeling her warmth of her skin against his.
Almost as if to ease his pain, his eyes unhinged from her chest and continued steadily upward to her face. The pouty lips he yearned to kiss, the button nose he adored, and the almond shaped eyes that harbored a gaze so sweet it pireced his soul whenever she looked at him. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster and faster as he remembered the day he first laid eyes on her.
It was a warm summer day, but humid since it had just rained. He had been walking home when quarreling voices reached his ears. Looking across the street he stopped in his tracks (Lucky for him. He would have walked into a lightpost if he hadn't). He took in what he could see. Her caramel skin and raven colored hair which was cut rather boyishly, but in his mind it didn't take away from her beauty. All the events leading to their friendship were but mere coincidence. She was perfect from the day he saw her and even now as he looked at her. The boyish hair cut was growing out and her skin looked as if it would taste like the very caramel it resembled. He lent his time to the thought but quickly discarded it as his eyes once again looked her over. He took in her figure, a nice hourglass shape. Her breast (He assumed) were either a high 'B' or a low 'C' that lent it self to a slim torso. From there, her torso dipped into a tidy waist that bloomed into gorgeous curvy hips. Once again he felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he looked on, temptation filing into his mind. He wanted to run his finger tips along the outside of her thighs, just to watch the goosebumps rise in his wake, but he held back. It wasn't who he was, nor what he wanted to become.
He was far from being a depraved psychopath. He knew his boundries and respected the boundries of others. That mindset had been instilled in him as a child and reinforced when he entered the Air Force. The training he recived left him sure of himself in every aspect he could think of, but it never prepared him for the love he was feeling in his heart. His training never taught him how to confess his feelings to the woman before him. He had tried once in a letter that she never recieved. It read:
To My Beloved Belinda,
Forgive me in advance if I come off as a coward, but in all honesty I feel this is the only way I can convey these feelings I have. I can assure it's nothing bad, but I find it hard to believe that after all of my training, I am not man enough to approach and tell you that, I love you. I've fallen hard for you since the day I first laid eyes on your heavenly figure. I know it sounds cliche, but it truely was love at first sight and it makes me immensely happy that we have become such good friends.
I understand that this may seem a bit silly an old fashioned, but as I mentioned above, I am too much of a coward to tell you in person. Every time I see you my knees get weak and my heart skips a beat. I think of nothing more than having you in my arms... I want to protect you from the jerks who call themselves men, to wipe away your tears and laugh with you. I do understand that I do all of those things now, but I feel it isn't the same... I love you, Belinda with all my heart and soul...
A soft sigh soon escaped his lips as his thoughts dwelled on the unfinished love letter. There was so much more he wanted to write, but simply didn't have the heart to do so. But for now the letter resides in his wallet, folded up neatly and hidden from the prying eyes of the world. He glanced the clock and sighed once more, 6:55 Time was cruel. It was fickle about it's pace. Some times it would fly by and others it would crawl at an agonizing pace.
Turning away from the clock he stared at her for a moment, unsure of what his own body was planning. He soon began to notice he was no longer in control. His body had taken enough of his his cowardess and was now building up its courage. The butterflies and knots in his stomach willed his body on as it slowly bent down. Soon he found his lips gently pressed against her smooth cheek. Lingering as his nostrils inhaled the aroma of vanilla and brown sugar that rose from her skin. Standing he smiled softly and placed his hands in his pockets. He felt as if he had accomplished something grand in his life. The feeling didn't last long as she began to stir and caused him to panic. She never woke, instead she had turned On her side turning her back on him and muttering the name 'Oliver' as she did.
He took his leave from her room and closed the door. Heading into the living room he could feel and hear his heart pounding. She had spoken his name in her sleep. Was she dreaming about him? Or did she know he was there? It wasn't long before he realized that neither option calmed him. He took a seat on the couch he felt the cool leather press against his shirtless back and then his neck as he leaned his head back, his weary eyes meeting with the ceiling. Time seemed to creep by as he stared at it, but soon enough he closed his eyes and drifted off, dreaming of the day he would be by her side.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 10:31 am
Siregwin I have a 'short story' but it is in script format and about 4 pages typed (which is 4 minutes on screen) on word (lots of paragraph breaks etc). Would that be considered okay since it is in an odd format? I really only write for screen... Is there some way you could perhaps make it a little bit shorter?
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 11:12 am
@ Spierred: It's very good. I'm not much a fan of religious stories however. but it is very good.
@ Clive Daniels: Very interesting. I liked how you incorporated the death of Marty's love. I like how you conveyed how much pain he was in and how much he didn't want to be in Silverstone. Very good.
@ Silent Sympathy: Simply astounding! All three of your entries were compelling and great to read. With being a female, I am a sucker for love stories. You are very detail oriented, which is a very strong writing attrubute in my eyes. In "War's Little Secret", I smiled also along with the characters. I could feel the humor in such a sorrowful subject. Very well done in all three.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 11:48 am
P.o.e.t.r.y. :: Slipping
It feels as if I am slipping
Slipping away into a Internal darkness not visible on the outside,
As if I will never find my light again,
It seems all hope has left and gone,
To leave me in this broken song,
Of repeats and heartbreak, I wish was never present
In this dark and lonely soul
Where only those who know my pain
Can enter and truly grasp that of which my heart is feeling
As I begin to let myself fade,
I remember my bitter past,
From waking in a broken home,
To traitorous backstabbing 'friends',
This heart is one that you cannot mend,
as I fall into this darkness,
I let my sorrows and pain engulf that of which I use to call
Myself
I watch from afar, as my happiness seeps away through the
cracks I have left open, and I no longer smile from the heart,
But instead, I decide to wear a mask,
So no one can see my pain,
Yet,
I am angry when no one notices I am screaming on the inside...
It feels as if I am slipping,
Slipping away into a Eternal Darkness,
Where no human can pull me out,
As if my light has truly faded,
to leave me there alone,
How can one such as I,
Survive in this situation?
I can not find my way back out,
Of this darkness I now know,
As I slip away in time,
Will I be forgotten, and never again known?
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 12:43 pm
SHORT STORY >> Amadaun ((First Entry))
The Amadaun. He is the Queen’s Fool, but he can kill with a mere thought. He is also my namesake, although I am a girl. I remember so clearly the days that I began to truly take after my namesake. Centuries ago, in a tiny village in Ireland, my change began with a visit from him.
***
I awoke slowly, expecting to see the piercing brightness of another day, only to find myself immersed in shadows. Something was wrong, and it didn’t take my slightly obtuse eight-year-old mind long to figure that much out. Suddenly, out of the shadows, a voice made of chocolate came and enveloped me.
“Amadaun,” it said, “you are not to scream, nor are you to tell anyone of this afterwards.” I blinked, slightly confused, but nodded my assent anyways.
“Who are you?” I asked, rather naively. I scrutinized the vague form in front of me and was able to make out the outlines of a handsome, chiseled face framed with longish, wavy hair like hills through the shadows. He hesitated, as if he couldn’t decide how to phrase his answer.
Finally, he simply said, “I'm – I'm your daddy.” Despite the soothing tone of his voice, I did not accept this immediately like everything else. Momma had always said that my daddy was gone - he had left a long time ago, and he was never coming back. So why was this man coming to me in the middle of the night and claiming to be my father? I was startled out of my thoughts when he spoke again. “Do you know what I am?” When I shook my head, he sighed and backed away from my bedside. “Maybe it will come to you later.” As I drifted back off to sleep, he disappeared into the shadows, the wind whispering around my room quietly.
***
The next day, all I thought about was the dream with “Daddy”. While I had slept, I had figured out what he was, just like that. My dream-figure had been a vampire. I simply knew. As I fell asleep that night, I was eager to continue my dream, and to tell him I knew what he was.
“Amadaun…” came the chocolate voice from the night before. I jolted awake, searching for the vague face of “Daddy”, but found that everything was different this time. Everything around me was perfectly clear, as was the fact that I was obviously not dreaming, and hadn’t been last night. I also realized that I had accepted that he was, in fact, my daddy.
“Daddy! I know what you are!” I exclaimed. “You’re a vampire!” The admiration was clear in my voice, and the figure stiffened at this.
Very, very quietly, he said, “That’s nothing to be proud of.” And then he was getting ready to leave again, getting ready to simply leave me. I couldn’t help it - I stopped him.
“Wait! I wanna be like you!” He froze in his tracks, obviously aghast by this. He turned around so slowly I wasn’t sure if he was moving. Then out of nowhere, a growl so fierce came from him that if it weren’t for his lips moving I wouldn’t have thought it was him.
“NO!” And then he was gone, my sheets shifting in the breeze.
***
It took him a whole month to come back. When he did, the first words out of his mouth were, “Are you sure?” I imitated my dog Annie, titling my head slightly to the side. I didn’t get it.
He was my daddy, right? So why shouldn’t I be like him? Why couldn’t I aspire to be like my daddy? Why was he so reluctant to change me? I then nodded several times in succession, as if one time might not be enough to get my point across. I wanted this. He looked away, his shadowed face obscured by indecision. However, even as I was nodding, I couldn’t help but see Momma and Annie’s sad faces, and tensed a little bit. Momma. She would miss me, wouldn’t she? Momma, with her heart-shaped face and her kind curves, her warmth and her smell of home. “Well?” he asked. This was it. I nodded again, this time more surely.
“Yeah, Daddy. I’m sure,” I said, trying to keep my voice strong like Momma’s whenever she talked about my other daddy. I don’t think it worked, but his face cleared anyways. Finally, I was going to change.
He grabbed my shoulders, and then leaned in towards my neck. When he bit me, it hurt, but I lived through it. Unlike the stories, though, he didn’t drink. He just kept his teeth there for a few moment, and then pulled them out, and sat and watched me.
Then, abruptly, the pain began. I was being burned, being ripped apart, being set on fire from the inside. I think I screamed, but I’m not sure. A thousand needles were piercing me, and a thousand shining blades were dragging their way across my flesh. The fire…all I remember from that time was the fire, and then I blacked out into sweet oblivion.
***
When I awoke, I was left only with two lingering scars and scattered memories of a smell like home. I knew my name and my creator, and that was it. At that time, I had not known I was to be come one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in history. I had also not known that even after over five hundred years, my visage would remain that of an eight-year-old's. I never saw that man, “Daddy”, again. I still do not know what to think of him. Whether to hate him or to love him, I am not sure. All I know is that I truly am the Amadaun. Beautiful. Deadly. And oh, such a fool.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 1:57 pm
@ Candy: Oh two peoples entries have struck me to the heart. Love and vampires are my achilles heel with books and stories. Very good job. I wish there was more. I am most curious to find out what happens to this Miss Amadaun. A little more descriptive details would have been great, but over all a truly compelling story. Bravo!
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:07 pm
^^ This sounds fun... if you've already posted a story on your Gaia Journal, can you just take a chapter out of that and label it as a "short story"? Or does that not count?
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:39 pm
IvyStarling ^^ This sounds fun... if you've already posted a story on your Gaia Journal, can you just take a chapter out of that and label it as a "short story"? Or does that not count? I don't see a problem with that. It just has to be your own work. Just make sure it isn't way, way long. ^.^ There are some really good writers out there. I'm anxious to see everyone's work.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:47 pm
BockiBear @ Candy: Oh two peoples entries have struck me to the heart. Love and vampires are my achilles heel with books and stories. Very good job. I wish there was more. I am most curious to find out what happens to this Miss Amadaun. A little more descriptive details would have been great, but over all a truly compelling story. Bravo! --- « follow your instincts » "
Thank you so much! ^^
Hmm... perhaps I should continue it, just for the heck of it. This was written for school, so I had to limit myself in length and content. xD;"« follow your heart » ---
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:56 pm
Candycoated Toxins BockiBear @ Candy: Oh two peoples entries have struck me to the heart. Love and vampires are my achilles heel with books and stories. Very good job. I wish there was more. I am most curious to find out what happens to this Miss Amadaun. A little more descriptive details would have been great, but over all a truly compelling story. Bravo! --- « follow your instincts » "
Thank you so much! ^^
Hmm... perhaps I should continue it, just for the heck of it. This was written for school, so I had to limit myself in length and content. xD;"« follow your heart » --- If you love to write you should never limit yourself.
For a school assignment, I understand.
But if you wish to continue it, go for it.
That is how books and novels get started.
With a simple idea or outline you could well be on your way to publishing.
^.^
I'm working on a vampire story right now.
Not for the contest of course, but on my own.
I'm hoping to get it published.
The first chapter is almost done and I do intend to post it in my journal if you care to read.
But anyway my point is, writing is a trill.
It is a joy.
It is perhaps one of the luxuries that people take for granted almost always.
Just let your pen do the talking and go along for a ride.
=^.^=
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 3:04 pm
[..My hearts a battleground..]
Say goodbye,
As we dance with the Devil tonight,
Don’t you dare look at him in the eye,
As we dance with the Devil tonightÐåΠçë WÏth ΤΗΣ ÐëvÎŀ Ψ ||I wrote this in fourth grade when I was feeling depressed, like I always am.|| Poetry: Battle Hymn of the Forgotten or the Unwanted The Subtle Lord or Hope
I watch my heart break,
Listen to my heart ache.
As they pelt me with those stones,
Using those violent tones,
Because sticks and stones break my bones.
Words leave the biggest wounds
Lying you in your tomb,
Slowly, Day by day,
You begin to wish them all away.
You considered dead among the crowd,
No one listens unless you yell loud,
Once again,
Your dead among the crowd.
And slowly day by day,
You begin to wish them all away.
And when your wish comes true,
Everyone is gone except for you.
Close your eyes,
So many days go by,
So easy to find what’s wrong,
So hard to find what’s right.
[…And I’m fighting a losing war…]
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 3:11 pm
gonk Most of my poems are up on deviantart...so I guess I can't use them.
Darn.
I guess I'll have to try and write something new.
Same for my stories...though none of them are ever short. *sigh* I guess I'd better get to writing some stuff to enter.
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