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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 4:03 am
I blame the event and NaNoWriMo for my lack of being here lately. I think I'll post my NaNoWriMo story here in parts soon. Stay tuned!~
EDIT: Well, as you can see, I changed the thread name and am now going to post bits of my NaNoWriMo story! Everybody dance now!
Rachel was here
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Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 4:35 am
Well I blame your lack of dedication to Brazealand! You are a terrible person!
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Multifunctionomical Boner Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 2:19 am
Yeah.
'Cause I shore sure came here during the event. rolleyes
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 2:39 am
Stop using the wrong sure! You're doing it on purpose aren't you because I'm too lazy to edit your post.
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Multifunctionomical Boner Vice Captain
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:24 am
I know, it's annoying! I'll edit it, since this is my thread. I don't want it ruined.
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:26 am
I also edited her grammar.
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Multifunctionomical Boner Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:29 am
Good work there. For some reason I'm only typing using one finger on my righthand and all of them on my left. Eh, I've done stranger.
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:30 am
Part one of my story!
What? Was it morning already? It wasn’t fair how these days kept creeping up on her. Just as she had been dreaming long enough to begin forgetting the reality of the world, she’s was pulled back by the earthly magnet which both restrained her, yet repelled her at the same time. She felt as though she was never meant for this world. But it kept her here. Something kept her here. And it pulled the very life from her soul with every passing moment. Not in the way that she was aging, everyone was aging, but she felt as though she would never be truly real in this world. But what else was there?
And so she allowed herself to be tugged back to earth by the trivial sounds of her world.
The alarm clock buzzed in a shrill, inconsistent fashion, until she slammed her hand sullenly into the sleep button. The following silence was one that only lasted for a few seconds everyday, but this was the time when she felt most secure with herself, aware of her herself and complete within herself. She was conscious, she was breathing, living and feeling. But her eyes were not yet aware of her surroundings, not yet poisoning her brain with the lifelessness of realism.
This was her moment to allow a heightened sense of reality. She could lose control, if only for a few seconds. If she had been religious or philosophical, perhaps she would have called it meditation.
But then it was gone. Her eyes flicked open and the remembrance of all that was hers filled her up and then escaped in a single sigh, as she dragged herself slowly out of her small, low bed. She tossed the covers to one side. She would not make it up again.
Her head began to reel, as the blood drained from her head quicker than her brain could register. This was an old feeling. She stumbled towards her dresser and leant over it until her head had stilled and the white, flickering snow had cleared from her vision, which was still somewhat unclear. She inspected her features in the arched, white-framed old mirror that stood upon the wooden dresser. She was not expecting that anything would be different, but she liked to check anyway. At least her features would not betray her by succumbing to too much change overnight.
No, there was nothing new. She flicked her long side fringe back and pulled the hair that usually fell softly around her shoulders back to examine her face Her eyes were still dark, slight flicks of green visible in them, highlighted by the ray of sunshine slicing through the curtains of her small room. She batted her eyelids to abate the early-morning blurriness. Her eyelashes were long and thick, sprinkled with leftover mascara. The rings under her eyes did absolutely nothing to accentuate her cheekbones, which were set high, but back towards her ears, giving her jaw a squarish shape. Her nose curved up slightly, and her lips were reasonably full, but morning-dry and a little chapped. She pulled one of baby curls in her thick, dark-brown-burgundy-tinted hair straight.
“Curls are cute.” Shut up Grandma. Oh well, she didn’t mind too much. Her body was of an average size, a little curvy, but nothing too spectacular, but she was too unmotivated to try and change. She had long legs, but they were neither too slender, nor too muscular. She held her head high and looked up and down her figure. Her hips were wider than her chest slightly. She hated that. She was quite pretty, but not in the way that she was expected to be by the conventions of society. She didn’t particularly loathe her appearance, but she was not self-confident and she often wondered what people though of her. But she was too scared to ask the truth. She hid behind her verbal self-abuse and no-one argued with her very often. She ran her eyes up and down her despondent reflection once more and, as she had not been surprised by anything new about her appearance, Mariah Fae Wolfe then pulled her eyes away and turned to her room, and the beginning of the rest of another day.
* * * * *
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Multifunctionomical Boner Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:30 am
Woo! Bits of story!
*dundundundundun*
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:31 am
Hmm, it doesn't look as long there...
Good work there, Rachel. Typing skillz.
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:33 am
Well, I've got a fair bit more story written already, but I'll post the next part tomorrow. I really should go and write some more now, I wanted to make at least 3000 words before bed.
So, -Whoooosh-.
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 4:34 am
Well you should make it longer then.
Perhaps space out the paragraphs a bit more.
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Multifunctionomical Boner Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 10:33 pm
that was really good eek I loved the way you lead into the story, lots of description and feeding the reader details one by one. I can never write anything gonk but I should so be a book critic xd
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Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 2:24 am
Why, thankyou Mary. I just write and hope it sounds good...well, next installment soon!
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Cruel_Angels_Thesis182 Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 2:25 am
Mariah tramped down the hallway towards the dilapidated kitchen, singing to herself;
“Days like this we find it so hard//
Just to push ourselves up and out of bed…”
Paying no attention to her brother, Elijah’s “no noise before the hour of 10 after my binge night” rule. He was loud-mouthed and unkind to her. He acted more like a drunken dog-trainer than an older brother. She loathed him deeply. But still, there was one time when he had defended, perhaps saved her life…but that was along time ago, and now she was starting to believe that he did it, not because of a secret brotherly love for her, but for attention from their father, who was usually smitten with Mariah. She was apparently the spitting image of a mother she had never met, nor seen any evidence of. It unnerved her the way his eyes followed her sometimes, probing her, trying to find the place where he could split her in two and reclaim both his long-lost lover and still keep his treasured daughter.
Jack Wolfe was in his late thirties, his dark hair was flecked with white like cobwebs and although his face looked young, he was weary and his bottomless grey eyes carried the burden of years of hardship that far surpassed his actual existence. He had two children and no wife, a meagre trade job and a mortgage which seemed impossible to pay off. And at the present time, he was sitting at his aged and disintegrating dining table staring soberly at a slip of paper, slightly crumpled where his hands had been clutching it, which was held out in front of him in a manner that suggested that he could have perhaps been agonising over a photograph of his departed wife. Except that there was no such thing. So instead he was staring at this letter. And it made him feel no more joyful than his harboured memories.
Mariah’s singing trailed off as she entered the kitchen and he looked up at her. They couldn’t read each other’s expressions. They had never been able to for some reason. Nothing between them felt like father and daughter.
“What?” she snapped, as she broke his gaze and moved towards the sink.
“Nothing.” he replied, feeling the hollow inside him grow a little deeper. He was losing his child, the most important thing he had ever been entrusted with. Losing her, far more than either of them knew.
He returned to his letter.
Mariah returned to the table 10 minutes later, with a chipped blue mug of Milo and a piece of plain toast.
“Good book you’re reading there?”
“It’s a letter.”
“Well, you’re taking your sweet time with it. What does it say?”
“Nothing. It says nothing”. Jack let go of the letter with his right hand for long enough to place a cigarette in his mouth, then light it and pull a half-full glass ashtray towards him, never pulling his eyes from the paper.
“Nothing sure takes a long time to read these days.”
Mariah motioned as if to snatch it out of her father’s hands, but pulled back when she noticed a single dew-drop –like tear on his rugged cheek.
“No, seriously, what does it say?” she continued, a slight hint of concern in her voice.
“It still says nothing.” He said through his cigarette. And with this nothing, he removed the cigarette from his mouth and placed it on the rim of the ashtray and proceeded to shred the letter he had been so painfully enthralled with, letting the pieces flutter into the ashtray. Mariah watched as he flicked his still smouldering cigarette butt over the remnants of the letter, causing the dying embers to further destroy what was left. He snuffed out the cigarette, along with any hope anyone could have had to read this mystifying note again.
He stood slowly and moved towards the hallway.
“I’m going back to bed,” he stated, “Make sure you get to school on time today.” And then he left Mariah sitting alone in the kitchen. She still hadn’t toucher her Milo. She was in half a mind to pour it down the sink, now she felt so sick with guilt and worry. But she still wasn’t sure why.
* * * * *
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