The Short Story Thread.
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This is something I wrote last night. I've got a bigger story planned in my head, but this is the thing that stuck on paper. I'm still very unsure about the feel of the story - I haven't written fiction in a very long time. If you can make it through, I'd be glad to get some criticism on both writing and the story overall.
The formatting is a bit off, it didn't survive the journey from OpenOffice to Firefox very well, so I had to change some of the symbols for it to work. Hopefully I got it all.
He was trapped in the moment. The barrel of the gun that would surely lead him into Inferno was pressed to the back of his head. He could feel the cold metal against his increasingly hot flesh. This was it. Eddie Donahue was going to die. They - it's always they, never we - say that life flashes before your eyes when you die. This is not entirely true; it flashes just before you die, as if life itself is taunting you in your predicament.
At least that was how it happened for Eddie. He saw his childhood pass by his eyes - memories he had forgotten a long time ago. He saw his first kiss, his first shaky experiences with the other sex. His entire life, passed by in an instant so small it could barely be defined as an instant. As he watched the cinema going on in his head it started to near the end, the punch-line of his existence.
It had been two days ago that he had gotten the call. He had picked up the receiver of his old phone, and answered as he always did: "Donahue Investigations, this is Eddie Donahue. How can I help you?"
"Eddie, it's me", declared the voice in the other end. Shit, Eddie thought to himself. After several moments the voice in the receiver spoke again: "Are you still there?"
"Yes, Becky, I'm still here. But I thought a restraining order and divorce would have disqualified you from introducing yourself as 'me'."
"Eddie I don't have the time for your fucking bullshit right now", she sounded very shrill. Eddie thought he could detect sobbing in her voice - she had recently been crying. Becky might have thought he didn't care about her during their ten years of marriage, and she was probably right, but he was accustomed to her. He knew her.
Swallowing his own pride, he would let her speak her piece: "Alright, I'm sorry. What is wrong?"
"I need your help. It's John, he - he's missing", she was crying now, but he didn't care about his pride anymore. John, the fucking bastard that had cost him his marriage (truthfully Eddie had cost him his own marriage, and he knew it) was at the very bottom of the list of people Eddie gave two shits about. Before he could contain himself he said: "Have you checked the beds of married women around the country? He might be fucking one of them as we speak." That was uncalled for, yet he felt very good about it. Am I really that immature? Our marriage was over long before John came around and stuffed his business down Becky's throat. Feels better to hate him, though. Besides, she never took my business down her throat.
The crying in the other end gained in power. She hated him, she really did.
"Fuck you, Eddie. John is not the reason I left you" she always could read his mind "I called you for a reason other than for us to fight, but you're too fucking immature to care." She was going to hang up, he knew it.
"Don't hang up Becky. I'm sorry, again. What's happened to John?", it took all his willpower but he made it.
No answer, but she hadn't hung up - that much he knew. Finally she answered: "He's missing. Been gone for almost two days now, without a trace."
This was something he could relate to. Solving mysteries was his cup of tea, as you could put it. Picking up a battered pack of Lucky Strikes, and digging out one of the death sticks, he told his ex-wife to tell him everything.
Eddie didn't care for airplanes. The way he saw it was that if he couldn't understand the fundamentals of something it couldn't be trusted. He didn't understand how a jumbo jet could stay in the air and because of that he drove everywhere in his old VW beetle. A car he could understand, a car was simple - press the pedal to the metal and off you go. The only problem with his old beetle was that going from point A to point B never was easy. Most of the times he had to stop at point C in order to get the car fixed, only to be sent off to point D to get the right parts. It all ended up costing a lot more than plane tickets. But he could understand it.
Becky had talked for a little more than ten minutes, giving him a general feel for the story so far. John had been on a business trip up north, to a place called Cypher Creek. Eddie had never heard of it, but a quick search on-line had landed him instructions to get there. Apparently John was major salesman at a company producing cooling units for big industries, and up in Cypher Creek they were building a new mining complex. He had been on the trip for a week, and it all gone great up until now. John hadn't called home as he usually did and Becky had been worried sick for him. She had waited for his call all night, and when it didn't come she got on the phone and called him. There had been no answer on his cellphone or his hotel room. She had called up the hotel wondering if they had seen John the previous day. They had seen him at breakfast, and later heading out to the mines with the chief engineer at the complex. He hadn't shown up later that night, so they assumed he was staying with the engineer. A quick call to the engineer's house, a certain Mr. Belford, dashed that hope: John had been at the complex for two hours, and then Belford had to leave him in because of an urgent meeting. John had seemed fine, and said he would be eating dinner in town tonight, if Belford cared to join him later. Now Becky had been frantic and she made her last call, before she called Eddie, to the Cypher Creek Sheriff's office filing a rapport on John as missing.
Twenty-three hours later the police had not been able to find a single trace of John's whereabouts and Eddie Donahue, Private Investigator, was on his way up to the freezing cold of Cypher Creek. Fan-fucking-tastic, Eddie thought to himself as he turned up the radiator in his beaten VW. For miles now there had been nothing but forest and barely any traffic. He had quickly dimmed his lights for any cars or trucks that passed him going the opposite way, the international greeting on the road. Eddie punched the old car stereo, and the radio came on. Johnny Cash was singing about how love was like a fiery ring. Damn right Mr Cash, damn right, Eddie thought to himself but changed the channel. There was a time for Cash, but it wasn't during a drive on a deserted road in the middle of a blizzard. He stumbled upon a channel that proclaimed themselves "the Hard Rockers of the North" - at the moment they were playing Thunderstruck by AC/DC. This would do nicely. Singing along to the chorus, Eddie kept on driving to Cypher Creek, the last known whereabout of John Mitchell.
At least that was how it happened for Eddie. He saw his childhood pass by his eyes - memories he had forgotten a long time ago. He saw his first kiss, his first shaky experiences with the other sex. His entire life, passed by in an instant so small it could barely be defined as an instant. As he watched the cinema going on in his head it started to near the end, the punch-line of his existence.
It had been two days ago that he had gotten the call. He had picked up the receiver of his old phone, and answered as he always did: "Donahue Investigations, this is Eddie Donahue. How can I help you?"
"Eddie, it's me", declared the voice in the other end. Shit, Eddie thought to himself. After several moments the voice in the receiver spoke again: "Are you still there?"
"Yes, Becky, I'm still here. But I thought a restraining order and divorce would have disqualified you from introducing yourself as 'me'."
"Eddie I don't have the time for your fucking bullshit right now", she sounded very shrill. Eddie thought he could detect sobbing in her voice - she had recently been crying. Becky might have thought he didn't care about her during their ten years of marriage, and she was probably right, but he was accustomed to her. He knew her.
Swallowing his own pride, he would let her speak her piece: "Alright, I'm sorry. What is wrong?"
"I need your help. It's John, he - he's missing", she was crying now, but he didn't care about his pride anymore. John, the fucking bastard that had cost him his marriage (truthfully Eddie had cost him his own marriage, and he knew it) was at the very bottom of the list of people Eddie gave two shits about. Before he could contain himself he said: "Have you checked the beds of married women around the country? He might be fucking one of them as we speak." That was uncalled for, yet he felt very good about it. Am I really that immature? Our marriage was over long before John came around and stuffed his business down Becky's throat. Feels better to hate him, though. Besides, she never took my business down her throat.
The crying in the other end gained in power. She hated him, she really did.
"Fuck you, Eddie. John is not the reason I left you" she always could read his mind "I called you for a reason other than for us to fight, but you're too fucking immature to care." She was going to hang up, he knew it.
"Don't hang up Becky. I'm sorry, again. What's happened to John?", it took all his willpower but he made it.
No answer, but she hadn't hung up - that much he knew. Finally she answered: "He's missing. Been gone for almost two days now, without a trace."
This was something he could relate to. Solving mysteries was his cup of tea, as you could put it. Picking up a battered pack of Lucky Strikes, and digging out one of the death sticks, he told his ex-wife to tell him everything.
Eddie didn't care for airplanes. The way he saw it was that if he couldn't understand the fundamentals of something it couldn't be trusted. He didn't understand how a jumbo jet could stay in the air and because of that he drove everywhere in his old VW beetle. A car he could understand, a car was simple - press the pedal to the metal and off you go. The only problem with his old beetle was that going from point A to point B never was easy. Most of the times he had to stop at point C in order to get the car fixed, only to be sent off to point D to get the right parts. It all ended up costing a lot more than plane tickets. But he could understand it.
Becky had talked for a little more than ten minutes, giving him a general feel for the story so far. John had been on a business trip up north, to a place called Cypher Creek. Eddie had never heard of it, but a quick search on-line had landed him instructions to get there. Apparently John was major salesman at a company producing cooling units for big industries, and up in Cypher Creek they were building a new mining complex. He had been on the trip for a week, and it all gone great up until now. John hadn't called home as he usually did and Becky had been worried sick for him. She had waited for his call all night, and when it didn't come she got on the phone and called him. There had been no answer on his cellphone or his hotel room. She had called up the hotel wondering if they had seen John the previous day. They had seen him at breakfast, and later heading out to the mines with the chief engineer at the complex. He hadn't shown up later that night, so they assumed he was staying with the engineer. A quick call to the engineer's house, a certain Mr. Belford, dashed that hope: John had been at the complex for two hours, and then Belford had to leave him in because of an urgent meeting. John had seemed fine, and said he would be eating dinner in town tonight, if Belford cared to join him later. Now Becky had been frantic and she made her last call, before she called Eddie, to the Cypher Creek Sheriff's office filing a rapport on John as missing.
Twenty-three hours later the police had not been able to find a single trace of John's whereabouts and Eddie Donahue, Private Investigator, was on his way up to the freezing cold of Cypher Creek. Fan-fucking-tastic, Eddie thought to himself as he turned up the radiator in his beaten VW. For miles now there had been nothing but forest and barely any traffic. He had quickly dimmed his lights for any cars or trucks that passed him going the opposite way, the international greeting on the road. Eddie punched the old car stereo, and the radio came on. Johnny Cash was singing about how love was like a fiery ring. Damn right Mr Cash, damn right, Eddie thought to himself but changed the channel. There was a time for Cash, but it wasn't during a drive on a deserted road in the middle of a blizzard. He stumbled upon a channel that proclaimed themselves "the Hard Rockers of the North" - at the moment they were playing Thunderstruck by AC/DC. This would do nicely. Singing along to the chorus, Eddie kept on driving to Cypher Creek, the last known whereabout of John Mitchell.
He's right, if you're bored and just looking around and making a jerk out of yourself in threads where people are trying to have conversations, then go somewhere else. Don't be rude because you're bored.Trivun said:
trombone2007 said:
Thank you.
Rascarin said:
I absolutely loved this. When I first read it it was interesting, then I took a quick look at your profile and found you were a girl (no offence, if this seems a little sexist or anyhting). That made the story and the subtext a lot more intriguing actually, especially as you said yourself it was based on someone you know. It just seemed to be really engaging and sensual and the story was great. Very well written and one of my favourites so far.
Bernard_Black said:
Again, one of my favourites so far. I thought this story was engaging and witty, very much the sort of thing I'm used to (I suppose I should be used to this situation though, as a student myself
). Again, well written, excellent use of prose and a very much enjoyable read. Well done avidabey said:
My third of my favourites here, this is amazing and very engaging again, I love the fact that it appears so well written and intellectual, and then there's all these little cliches and witticisms that you drop in every so often. The last line was genius and the story itself was superb. I'm not in the habit of giving scores for things I criticise but this would definitely get a high score if I was in that habit. Congrats
.
OK then, I've pretty much been a 'resident critic' on this thread so far, so I guess it's time for me to put my words in my mouth. Or something like that... Anyway, I've got two stories to share. The first one is quite long, so I split it into three parts. I won't mention the title until the end because it'll spoil the story. The second one is called 'Protest', I basically wrote it after I was inspired by the stories I read in my student paper about Leeds students at the G20 protests and one guy from the university who spoke to Ian Tomlinson before he died. Hope you like them.
And here's 'Protest':
Hope you like them
P.S. Sorry for the double post, but I didn't want to have one extremely long post that people would be bored by.
He walked along the street. All was quiet. Cars coming both ways, people passing by, oblivious. She watched.
He took a step. Stopped. Looked around. Nothing. He walked on. Stepped into the road. That was when the car hit.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" The driver of the van was pretty angry. This was to be expected, of course. After all, some guy had just stepped out into the road, right into his path. It was a miracle that Rob hadn't been hurt. What was strange, though, was that a dent had suddenly appeared right in the middle of the van, as though it had hit something much harder than a random person. And that was even stranger, too. Rob had no marks, no bruises, no cuts, nothing. It was like the van hadn't touched him. But then, how would it have stopped like that? The driver sure as hell didn't put the brakes on, not that quickly. He was going at 40mph, after all. True, it was a 30mph zone, but white van men don't care about speed, after all. Rob thought back to that moment. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell. It was strange enough as it was, telling people would just make them think he was crazy. And he knew he wasn't crazy. Was he?
Emma ran. She didn't stop, but just kept on running. She shouldn't have been there, she shouldn't have interfered. But she had. Why? What had possessed her to do that? Was it him? She'd fought her feelings ever since she'd set eyes on him, but she couldn't escape the truth. She knew she had to, that she couldn't put him in that danger, but she couldn't fight any more. And it scared her. Even more than when she'd seen the van, she was scared to tell him. Scared to face the facts. How could she explain, after all? She'd stopped a speeding van and saved his life, and then vanished. She wasn't sure he recognised her. Who remembers people you see in passing anyway? But she remembered him. And she'd saved him. Surely that had to count for something.
It was on campus when he'd first seen her. Rob had been in the union, getting a quick lunch, when he noticed the girl with the red hair. He couldn't help but look at her beautiful face, the long fiery hair and the hazel eyes. She looked straight past him, and that was that. But it wasn't. Not for him. He'd tried to avoid her, but everywhere he went, she was there. Never looking at him, but always there. No matter where he went, she would always be near. He was drawn in, and he couldn't help it. It was like he was falling into a deep hole that he couldn't escape from, and it was terrifying. And yet, he didn't want it to stop. No matter what he did, he always wanted to see her. And then came the van. And somehow, miraculously, she was there. She'd put out a hand and stopped the van, and that was impossible, but it had happened. And then she was gone. Nothing but a quick smile, before she ran. Rob knew there was something mysterious about her, something abnormal. He never saw her speak to anyone, never saw her interact in any way with anybody else. Who was she?
He took a step. Stopped. Looked around. Nothing. He walked on. Stepped into the road. That was when the car hit.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" The driver of the van was pretty angry. This was to be expected, of course. After all, some guy had just stepped out into the road, right into his path. It was a miracle that Rob hadn't been hurt. What was strange, though, was that a dent had suddenly appeared right in the middle of the van, as though it had hit something much harder than a random person. And that was even stranger, too. Rob had no marks, no bruises, no cuts, nothing. It was like the van hadn't touched him. But then, how would it have stopped like that? The driver sure as hell didn't put the brakes on, not that quickly. He was going at 40mph, after all. True, it was a 30mph zone, but white van men don't care about speed, after all. Rob thought back to that moment. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell. It was strange enough as it was, telling people would just make them think he was crazy. And he knew he wasn't crazy. Was he?
Emma ran. She didn't stop, but just kept on running. She shouldn't have been there, she shouldn't have interfered. But she had. Why? What had possessed her to do that? Was it him? She'd fought her feelings ever since she'd set eyes on him, but she couldn't escape the truth. She knew she had to, that she couldn't put him in that danger, but she couldn't fight any more. And it scared her. Even more than when she'd seen the van, she was scared to tell him. Scared to face the facts. How could she explain, after all? She'd stopped a speeding van and saved his life, and then vanished. She wasn't sure he recognised her. Who remembers people you see in passing anyway? But she remembered him. And she'd saved him. Surely that had to count for something.
It was on campus when he'd first seen her. Rob had been in the union, getting a quick lunch, when he noticed the girl with the red hair. He couldn't help but look at her beautiful face, the long fiery hair and the hazel eyes. She looked straight past him, and that was that. But it wasn't. Not for him. He'd tried to avoid her, but everywhere he went, she was there. Never looking at him, but always there. No matter where he went, she would always be near. He was drawn in, and he couldn't help it. It was like he was falling into a deep hole that he couldn't escape from, and it was terrifying. And yet, he didn't want it to stop. No matter what he did, he always wanted to see her. And then came the van. And somehow, miraculously, she was there. She'd put out a hand and stopped the van, and that was impossible, but it had happened. And then she was gone. Nothing but a quick smile, before she ran. Rob knew there was something mysterious about her, something abnormal. He never saw her speak to anyone, never saw her interact in any way with anybody else. Who was she?
Late. Rob had decided he officially hated his tutor. 5pm and he?d barely left university. Winter was closing in, the nights were getting longer, and he still had a long walk to go before home. He was still shaken from the day's events. Nearly getting killed does that to a person, true, but that wasn't why he was shaken. It was her. He hadn't seen her anywhere after the crash, and she'd been on his mind all day. It troubled him. He didn't even know her name and she'd saved his life, and then fled without even giving him a chance to say thanks. He wondered about this as he walked down the poorly lit street to his home... That was when the two men following him decided to strike.
She saw. Emma had decided after the crash to follow Rob, without his knowledge. She couldn't have said why, save for an uneasy feeling that something else would happen to him. And now it seemed she was to be proven right. She watched as the two men followed Rob down the street, keeping their distance in case he turned. She saw the knives they carried, one each, as they held them behind their backs, ready to strike. She saw when they grabbed him and pushed him into the alley. She followed.
"Give us your stuff, now!" Cliched words, but true nonetheless. The two men who had followed Rob all the way from campus weren't exactly renowned among their friends for their use of witty and smart language. Then again, they weren't the sort to hang around with that kind of person. They held out the knives and pushed Rob to the ground. That was the kind of person they were. As he shouted for help, they grabbed his bag and coat and started rifling through for valuables. Exactly what valuables they hoped to find in a bag full of coursework was unclear, but it was no pressing concern, unlike the wallet hidden in an inner coat pocket. Nobody noticed a red haired girl creep silently toward them.
Emma knew that Rob was in danger. She had to act fast. Not the most difficult opponents to face, but still, they were tough. Two thugs living on the mean streets of inner-city Leeds aren't exactly easy to beat, but then again, she wasn't like most girls. She analysed the situation. A dark haired young man lay on the floor in front of two big men with knives. Rob and his attackers, of course. He called out for help, as they searched his bag. Coursework, and nothing more. As one of the two men searched through Rob's coat pockets, she struck. Coming up from behind she grabbed the head of the nearest assailant, and with a sickening crack she twisted it to the side. He fell to the ground, and didn't get up again. The second wasn't so easy. As she went towards him he dodged and grabbed her in an arm lock. Bringing his knife to her throat, she was helpless.
Rob saw his first attacker fall in front of him, and looked up to see the girl who'd saved him earlier in an arm lock with the other thug preparing to slit her throat. Thinking fast, Rob grabbed his fallen enemy's weapon and lunged towards the other. There was a sound like cutting into a piece of meat, then he noticed the blood dripping from where he'd stabbed the man. It was then that the grip on the girl loosened and her attacker fell to the floor, without a whisper of a noise. He'd saved her life. Looked like he'd returned the favour after all.
Emma felt a huge sense of relief as the man who would have killed her fell dead to the ground. It was only then she realised she shouldn't have interfered again. What was it about this guy? Every time she was near him, her emotions were a riot and she couldn't focus. There was no way she could have left him to his fate. And now he'd saved her own life. It seemed he'd repaid the debt from earlier, but she was in too deep now. There was nothing for it. She had to run again, and this time she couldn't come back. Emotions had nothing to do with it. She wasn't safe, it wasn't safe for him to be associated with her. She'd only hurt him. Coming to university was an attempt to fit in, to be normal. Now she saw it had worked too well. She'd found Rob, and then it had all gone wrong. And that wasn't all. The smell. She had to leave now, the smell was too much. She had to go before she lost control.
Rob called after her as she ran. "Wait! Where are you going?" She ignored him. He ran after her, but she'd gone further through the alleys, leading further into the maze. It was a residential area, near campus, but like so many old houses there were back alleys, tunnels and all sorts that formed a maze a world away from the nearby streets the students of Leeds lived in. He followed as much as he could, but she was fast. Much too fast. It wasn't long before he lost her. And in turn, he realised he was lost himself. Looking around, he saw an open doorway, with a light on. It couldn't be that easy, surely? Looking inside, he saw an empty room, walls completely bare, part of an old house that had long been abandoned even by the squatters unable to pay their rent. The girl who had saved him, the mysterious red haired wonder, was standing in the centre of the room. He walked in.
"Who are you?" Rob had wondered what he would say to her for a long time, but never dreamed of such astonishing circumstances. He knew his words sounded cliched and silly, but at this point he didn't care.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. "I didn't think you'd manage it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I knew you were special, but to have followed me here? Either you're much more than I thought, or you're very, very, lucky."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Smart too. You're right, of course. I didn't. My name's Emma. And you're Robert."
"Just Rob. How did you know that? We've never spoken."
Emma looked amused, but inside she was burning. She didn't want this conversation, and yet there was no way out. Maybe it would make things easier in the long run if she faced it now.
"I know we've not spoken. But I noticed you before. I followed you."
Now it was Rob's turn to be amused. "I know you were following me. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. Sorry if this sounds rude, but I guess it was pretty stalker-ish of you."
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know more about you. It's best if I just explain. I saw you on campus once, and there was something about you that drew me in. I don't know what, I don't understand myself, but it was there and I can't stay away. And yes, I know that sounds stalker-ish and I'm sorry. But that's the truth, plain and simple."
Rob was puzzled now. And yet, there was something about her that drew him in too. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed she felt the same. "So, what, this is all because you feel something about me? That doesn't even make sense."
"Look, I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense, but that's just how it is. Things don't make sense for me, they never have. Alright?"
"Fine. I accept what you're saying, and I can see where you're coming from with this. While we're being honest, when I first saw you I felt exactly the same. And I sure as hell don't understand either. And now this is getting pretty confusing, so how about we sort things out now, eh?"
Emma couldn't explain any of it to herself. The speech coming from her lips was out of synch with her brain, and it seemed Rob felt the same way. Their conversation didn't make sense. Nothing else did either, come to think of it. She had ideas, sure, but none of them seemed to match what she was feeling. And it scared her.
"Fine, then let?s pretend this isn?t happening."
"Sure. And no, because it is happening. Whatever ?it? is. I just want some answers." Rob sounded defiant. "We'll start with what happened this morning. Let's assume for a minute that we are both now having rational thoughts, that this isn't a totally surreal experience and that we are having a normal conversation like old friends in a normal setting. That still doesn't explain what happened this morning."
"What are you talking about?" Rob realised Emma was being defensive. That was interesting.
"You stopped a van going at 40mph, give or take, with a single hand. You ran away like you were never there, and now you're being so evasive. I mean, you ran so fast, I've never seen anyone move like that."
"I am not being evasive..."
"Yes, you are. Who are you, Emma? Really?"
"I'm no-one..."
"You are someone. Please, tell me."
She paused. Should she tell him? Maybe. But then again, would it benefit him to know? And the smell. It had reached her even here. How could it have travelled so far, so quickly? She had to go now.
"Alright. I'll tell you. But not here." Emma knew she wouldn't be able to fob him off any more. She had to tell him, but this wasn't the time.
"Where then? And when?"
"Tomorrow. There's a place in Millennium Square. Meet me there tomorrow for lunch, at midday, and I promise I'll tell you what you want to know.
"So what? This is going to be like a date or something? And then you'll tell me what I want to know?"
"If you like."
"How will I know where to go? It's not as if there?s only one cafe in the square..."
"You'll see me. I'll be waiting."
And with that, she left him to his thoughts. At least she ran at a normal speed this time, he thought.
She saw. Emma had decided after the crash to follow Rob, without his knowledge. She couldn't have said why, save for an uneasy feeling that something else would happen to him. And now it seemed she was to be proven right. She watched as the two men followed Rob down the street, keeping their distance in case he turned. She saw the knives they carried, one each, as they held them behind their backs, ready to strike. She saw when they grabbed him and pushed him into the alley. She followed.
"Give us your stuff, now!" Cliched words, but true nonetheless. The two men who had followed Rob all the way from campus weren't exactly renowned among their friends for their use of witty and smart language. Then again, they weren't the sort to hang around with that kind of person. They held out the knives and pushed Rob to the ground. That was the kind of person they were. As he shouted for help, they grabbed his bag and coat and started rifling through for valuables. Exactly what valuables they hoped to find in a bag full of coursework was unclear, but it was no pressing concern, unlike the wallet hidden in an inner coat pocket. Nobody noticed a red haired girl creep silently toward them.
Emma knew that Rob was in danger. She had to act fast. Not the most difficult opponents to face, but still, they were tough. Two thugs living on the mean streets of inner-city Leeds aren't exactly easy to beat, but then again, she wasn't like most girls. She analysed the situation. A dark haired young man lay on the floor in front of two big men with knives. Rob and his attackers, of course. He called out for help, as they searched his bag. Coursework, and nothing more. As one of the two men searched through Rob's coat pockets, she struck. Coming up from behind she grabbed the head of the nearest assailant, and with a sickening crack she twisted it to the side. He fell to the ground, and didn't get up again. The second wasn't so easy. As she went towards him he dodged and grabbed her in an arm lock. Bringing his knife to her throat, she was helpless.
Rob saw his first attacker fall in front of him, and looked up to see the girl who'd saved him earlier in an arm lock with the other thug preparing to slit her throat. Thinking fast, Rob grabbed his fallen enemy's weapon and lunged towards the other. There was a sound like cutting into a piece of meat, then he noticed the blood dripping from where he'd stabbed the man. It was then that the grip on the girl loosened and her attacker fell to the floor, without a whisper of a noise. He'd saved her life. Looked like he'd returned the favour after all.
Emma felt a huge sense of relief as the man who would have killed her fell dead to the ground. It was only then she realised she shouldn't have interfered again. What was it about this guy? Every time she was near him, her emotions were a riot and she couldn't focus. There was no way she could have left him to his fate. And now he'd saved her own life. It seemed he'd repaid the debt from earlier, but she was in too deep now. There was nothing for it. She had to run again, and this time she couldn't come back. Emotions had nothing to do with it. She wasn't safe, it wasn't safe for him to be associated with her. She'd only hurt him. Coming to university was an attempt to fit in, to be normal. Now she saw it had worked too well. She'd found Rob, and then it had all gone wrong. And that wasn't all. The smell. She had to leave now, the smell was too much. She had to go before she lost control.
Rob called after her as she ran. "Wait! Where are you going?" She ignored him. He ran after her, but she'd gone further through the alleys, leading further into the maze. It was a residential area, near campus, but like so many old houses there were back alleys, tunnels and all sorts that formed a maze a world away from the nearby streets the students of Leeds lived in. He followed as much as he could, but she was fast. Much too fast. It wasn't long before he lost her. And in turn, he realised he was lost himself. Looking around, he saw an open doorway, with a light on. It couldn't be that easy, surely? Looking inside, he saw an empty room, walls completely bare, part of an old house that had long been abandoned even by the squatters unable to pay their rent. The girl who had saved him, the mysterious red haired wonder, was standing in the centre of the room. He walked in.
"Who are you?" Rob had wondered what he would say to her for a long time, but never dreamed of such astonishing circumstances. He knew his words sounded cliched and silly, but at this point he didn't care.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. "I didn't think you'd manage it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I knew you were special, but to have followed me here? Either you're much more than I thought, or you're very, very, lucky."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Smart too. You're right, of course. I didn't. My name's Emma. And you're Robert."
"Just Rob. How did you know that? We've never spoken."
Emma looked amused, but inside she was burning. She didn't want this conversation, and yet there was no way out. Maybe it would make things easier in the long run if she faced it now.
"I know we've not spoken. But I noticed you before. I followed you."
Now it was Rob's turn to be amused. "I know you were following me. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. Sorry if this sounds rude, but I guess it was pretty stalker-ish of you."
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know more about you. It's best if I just explain. I saw you on campus once, and there was something about you that drew me in. I don't know what, I don't understand myself, but it was there and I can't stay away. And yes, I know that sounds stalker-ish and I'm sorry. But that's the truth, plain and simple."
Rob was puzzled now. And yet, there was something about her that drew him in too. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed she felt the same. "So, what, this is all because you feel something about me? That doesn't even make sense."
"Look, I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make sense, but that's just how it is. Things don't make sense for me, they never have. Alright?"
"Fine. I accept what you're saying, and I can see where you're coming from with this. While we're being honest, when I first saw you I felt exactly the same. And I sure as hell don't understand either. And now this is getting pretty confusing, so how about we sort things out now, eh?"
Emma couldn't explain any of it to herself. The speech coming from her lips was out of synch with her brain, and it seemed Rob felt the same way. Their conversation didn't make sense. Nothing else did either, come to think of it. She had ideas, sure, but none of them seemed to match what she was feeling. And it scared her.
"Fine, then let?s pretend this isn?t happening."
"Sure. And no, because it is happening. Whatever ?it? is. I just want some answers." Rob sounded defiant. "We'll start with what happened this morning. Let's assume for a minute that we are both now having rational thoughts, that this isn't a totally surreal experience and that we are having a normal conversation like old friends in a normal setting. That still doesn't explain what happened this morning."
"What are you talking about?" Rob realised Emma was being defensive. That was interesting.
"You stopped a van going at 40mph, give or take, with a single hand. You ran away like you were never there, and now you're being so evasive. I mean, you ran so fast, I've never seen anyone move like that."
"I am not being evasive..."
"Yes, you are. Who are you, Emma? Really?"
"I'm no-one..."
"You are someone. Please, tell me."
She paused. Should she tell him? Maybe. But then again, would it benefit him to know? And the smell. It had reached her even here. How could it have travelled so far, so quickly? She had to go now.
"Alright. I'll tell you. But not here." Emma knew she wouldn't be able to fob him off any more. She had to tell him, but this wasn't the time.
"Where then? And when?"
"Tomorrow. There's a place in Millennium Square. Meet me there tomorrow for lunch, at midday, and I promise I'll tell you what you want to know.
"So what? This is going to be like a date or something? And then you'll tell me what I want to know?"
"If you like."
"How will I know where to go? It's not as if there?s only one cafe in the square..."
"You'll see me. I'll be waiting."
And with that, she left him to his thoughts. At least she ran at a normal speed this time, he thought.
Midday. She was waiting at a table outside a restaurant in Millennium Square when he arrived. Was now the right moment to regret what she had said the night before? Or should she tell him? There were no easy answers. And over the course of the night, lying awake in the darkness, she had realised something, that could change everything. It was too late now, of course. She'd said she would tell him everything. And so she would.
"Hi." Easiest way to start, she supposed.
"Hi yourself. So, are you ready to tell me whatever's going on?"
"You know, I lay awake all night thinking that to myself. But I did promise, didn't I?"
"Yes, Emma. You did." It felt odd to Rob to finally use her name. And yet, somehow, it fitted. He sat down opposite her.
"Alright then. You saw me yesterday, there's not much point in dragging this out. I'm not like other people."
"Well that's damn certain."
"I suppose. I'll just give you the basics first. You can make your own conclusion from that."
"Fair enough."
She hesitated. Was it really worth telling him everything, breaking down the wall she'd so carefully built up over all this time? But of course she already knew the answer to that. For him, it was.
"I'm super fast. I can run faster than any person you've ever seen, you know that. And I have super strength too. I stopped that van dead in the road to save your life."
"Yeah, I kind of guessed that. You're not telling me you're one of the X-Men, are you?" He laughed a little at his own joke, then stopped when he saw Emma?s face.
"Don't be stupid. But that isn't all I can do. I have advanced senses, eidetic memory, and these aren't things just anyone has. I'm special, and that's what scares me."
"Why? Surely those are good things, right? Odd, true, but still good to have?" Rob was pleased she had these ?powers?. Fine. If she was happy then that was alright. Except it wasn't.
"That isn't all that's special about me, Rob. I killed a man last night, and I know it was to save your life. But what you don't know is the smell. I could smell their blood. Even in that house, I could still smell it. And that's what scares me most. Not the memory, or the speed, or any of that. It's the blood. Not just the smell either?"
"You're kidding, right?" He didn't believe her. And yet, how could he not? Surely, after seeing what he had the day before, he had to realise this was true, it had to be, there was no other explanation.
"What do you want me to say, Rob? That this is all a big joke, ha-ha, I'm not really special, I can't smell people's blood? I wish I could but I can't. I'm sorry, but that's how I am."
"So you're telling me you're a - "
"Don't say it."
"Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You're telling me that you smell people's blood. What other conclusion can I draw from that? I notice it's pretty sunny today, and we're sitting outside, how does that work?"
"The stories don't always get their facts right. There's no problems religious symbols, I can go out in the sun and so on. And yes, I do like garlic."
"So that's it? You've told me this, what do you expect me to do now? How do you know I won't tell anyone?"
"Because you won't want people thinking you're crazy. Think about it. We only exist in books, films, games, old legends that nobody even gives any kind of crap about. We aren't real. You start blabbing about what I just told you and people will start asking questions. Do you really want the men in white coats at the door?"
Rob thought for a moment. "Not really. But you just said 'we'. There are more of you?"
"Of course. I'm not the only one. That would be pretty damn silly, right?"
"I suppose."
Emma thought that was it. She reckoned he'd took it better than expected. But there was one more thing Rob wanted to ask.
"Those men last night. The people who attacked me. What did you do with them?"
"How do you know I did anything?"
"Because I went back there. I'd just killed someone, and I don't care that there were no witnesses. Apart from you, I mean. I still killed someone. It hasn't left my mind since it happened, I mean, can you really expect it to?"
"Not really. What's your point?"
"I went back and the bodies were gone. Did you feed?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"The truth."
"Alright then. Yes, I did. Happy?"
"Do you need to drink blood? Or is it just a habit?"
"Rob..."
"Answer the question, Emma."
She hesitated. "Alright, I don't have to drink blood. It nourishes us much more than anything else, and without it we get weak. But no, I don't have to, but when I go without for a long time the cravings get stronger regardless."
"Am I in danger? Who else have you killed to feed?"
"I can hold it in..."
"Emma, please."
"I didn't want to get involved. I came to Leeds to start again, to try and live a normal life. University, then a job, and then repeat it all again when I had to."
"Just answer the bloody question!"
"Fine! I didn't want you involved because I thought I'd be putting you in danger. As it happens you're good enough at getting in danger yourself without my help. And no, I don't kill to feed. I've had to steal blood from banks at the hospital, I've been breaking into the medical students' labs on campus to get the blood I need, and last night I did something I swore I wouldn't do again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
"In London, before I came here, I used to target people. Thugs. Muggers. Anyone who was putting kind, decent people in danger. I felt I may as well do some good if I'm going to kill people. I never asked for this, but I don't have a choice. No-one can hold it in forever. You must hate me..." As she finished, she began to cry, sitting silently as she stared at Rob, tears dripping from her beautiful eyes.
Rob couldn't bear to see her like this. He took her hand across the table. "I don't hate you. I suppose it must have been difficult for you..."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It was difficult. You have no idea..." Emma snorted as she tried to stop the tears.
"But I don't hate you. Not one bit."
As he said this, he leant across the table and took her face in his hands. His lips touched hers and he softly kissed her, knowing that whatever monster she thought she was, he didn't care. All he cared about was how much he loved her, and how he would help her overcome her troubles, no matter what the cost.
"Hi." Easiest way to start, she supposed.
"Hi yourself. So, are you ready to tell me whatever's going on?"
"You know, I lay awake all night thinking that to myself. But I did promise, didn't I?"
"Yes, Emma. You did." It felt odd to Rob to finally use her name. And yet, somehow, it fitted. He sat down opposite her.
"Alright then. You saw me yesterday, there's not much point in dragging this out. I'm not like other people."
"Well that's damn certain."
"I suppose. I'll just give you the basics first. You can make your own conclusion from that."
"Fair enough."
She hesitated. Was it really worth telling him everything, breaking down the wall she'd so carefully built up over all this time? But of course she already knew the answer to that. For him, it was.
"I'm super fast. I can run faster than any person you've ever seen, you know that. And I have super strength too. I stopped that van dead in the road to save your life."
"Yeah, I kind of guessed that. You're not telling me you're one of the X-Men, are you?" He laughed a little at his own joke, then stopped when he saw Emma?s face.
"Don't be stupid. But that isn't all I can do. I have advanced senses, eidetic memory, and these aren't things just anyone has. I'm special, and that's what scares me."
"Why? Surely those are good things, right? Odd, true, but still good to have?" Rob was pleased she had these ?powers?. Fine. If she was happy then that was alright. Except it wasn't.
"That isn't all that's special about me, Rob. I killed a man last night, and I know it was to save your life. But what you don't know is the smell. I could smell their blood. Even in that house, I could still smell it. And that's what scares me most. Not the memory, or the speed, or any of that. It's the blood. Not just the smell either?"
"You're kidding, right?" He didn't believe her. And yet, how could he not? Surely, after seeing what he had the day before, he had to realise this was true, it had to be, there was no other explanation.
"What do you want me to say, Rob? That this is all a big joke, ha-ha, I'm not really special, I can't smell people's blood? I wish I could but I can't. I'm sorry, but that's how I am."
"So you're telling me you're a - "
"Don't say it."
"Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You're telling me that you smell people's blood. What other conclusion can I draw from that? I notice it's pretty sunny today, and we're sitting outside, how does that work?"
"The stories don't always get their facts right. There's no problems religious symbols, I can go out in the sun and so on. And yes, I do like garlic."
"So that's it? You've told me this, what do you expect me to do now? How do you know I won't tell anyone?"
"Because you won't want people thinking you're crazy. Think about it. We only exist in books, films, games, old legends that nobody even gives any kind of crap about. We aren't real. You start blabbing about what I just told you and people will start asking questions. Do you really want the men in white coats at the door?"
Rob thought for a moment. "Not really. But you just said 'we'. There are more of you?"
"Of course. I'm not the only one. That would be pretty damn silly, right?"
"I suppose."
Emma thought that was it. She reckoned he'd took it better than expected. But there was one more thing Rob wanted to ask.
"Those men last night. The people who attacked me. What did you do with them?"
"How do you know I did anything?"
"Because I went back there. I'd just killed someone, and I don't care that there were no witnesses. Apart from you, I mean. I still killed someone. It hasn't left my mind since it happened, I mean, can you really expect it to?"
"Not really. What's your point?"
"I went back and the bodies were gone. Did you feed?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"The truth."
"Alright then. Yes, I did. Happy?"
"Do you need to drink blood? Or is it just a habit?"
"Rob..."
"Answer the question, Emma."
She hesitated. "Alright, I don't have to drink blood. It nourishes us much more than anything else, and without it we get weak. But no, I don't have to, but when I go without for a long time the cravings get stronger regardless."
"Am I in danger? Who else have you killed to feed?"
"I can hold it in..."
"Emma, please."
"I didn't want to get involved. I came to Leeds to start again, to try and live a normal life. University, then a job, and then repeat it all again when I had to."
"Just answer the bloody question!"
"Fine! I didn't want you involved because I thought I'd be putting you in danger. As it happens you're good enough at getting in danger yourself without my help. And no, I don't kill to feed. I've had to steal blood from banks at the hospital, I've been breaking into the medical students' labs on campus to get the blood I need, and last night I did something I swore I wouldn't do again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?"
"In London, before I came here, I used to target people. Thugs. Muggers. Anyone who was putting kind, decent people in danger. I felt I may as well do some good if I'm going to kill people. I never asked for this, but I don't have a choice. No-one can hold it in forever. You must hate me..." As she finished, she began to cry, sitting silently as she stared at Rob, tears dripping from her beautiful eyes.
Rob couldn't bear to see her like this. He took her hand across the table. "I don't hate you. I suppose it must have been difficult for you..."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It was difficult. You have no idea..." Emma snorted as she tried to stop the tears.
"But I don't hate you. Not one bit."
As he said this, he leant across the table and took her face in his hands. His lips touched hers and he softly kissed her, knowing that whatever monster she thought she was, he didn't care. All he cared about was how much he loved her, and how he would help her overcome her troubles, no matter what the cost.
By the way, the actual name of this story was 'Blood Lust'. Not very imaginitive, I know, but it was the best I could think of that wasn't plagiarism.
And here's 'Protest':
Silence. He looked around. Crowds upon crowds standing still. Waiting. Ahead a row of uniforms stood. All was still. The waiting continued.
Ahead of the crowds the uniforms started to walk. They advanced slowly as the crowds began to shout. The chants and jeers rose in volume until not even the hardest of hearing could fail to understand. The uniforms walked, and the crowds stayed still.
They saw. The crowds waited, calling to their foe, daring them to come closer. Some had weapons, some went without. Some fought with fists, some with words. Some were peaceful and some were angry. It didn?t matter. As they waited for their enemy to arrive they were all in the same place. They were all there to follow the same great purpose.
The uniforms reached them. The crowds began to break as they were pushed back. The great and noble purpose lost as the fights began. But it wasn?t the angry and the ignorant who fought. They had waited for their fate, and now this was their reward for such patience.
They fought back. The uniforms had begun their assault, and now the waiting masses fought for their freedom. Outnumbered and afraid they began to break. One man watched.
He?d been there, unable to escape the coming storm. Watching as the two great forces battled for control of the streets, fought for supremacy. He?d seen the uniforms as they began to hurt and maim their foe to preserve their cause. He?d observed the crowds as they tried to protect their freedom. And then, he died.
It was a uniform who saw him. He?d been there on the edge, neither taking part nor running. The man who had no place. Neither a uniform nor part of the crowd, he?d waited. And he?d watched.
The uniform ran and struck him down. Not a tough blow, but a blow nonetheless. It had caused his heart to burst, his life to flutter and fail right there on that cold hard ground. The man who watched, watched no more.
The crowds saw. They stopped the fighting and turned. They waited. Then they left. And they remembered.
The uniforms saw. They too waited and remembered. They covered it up. An accident, they said. An unfortunate mishap, a casualty of war. And the crowds heard, and cried ?No! He was the greatest of us all. And he shall be remembered.?
And so it was, that he was remembered, and came to usher a new age, and become a beacon of hope and change for those who desired freedom. His life was worth so little, and yet caused so much. And they all watched. They all remembered.
Ahead of the crowds the uniforms started to walk. They advanced slowly as the crowds began to shout. The chants and jeers rose in volume until not even the hardest of hearing could fail to understand. The uniforms walked, and the crowds stayed still.
They saw. The crowds waited, calling to their foe, daring them to come closer. Some had weapons, some went without. Some fought with fists, some with words. Some were peaceful and some were angry. It didn?t matter. As they waited for their enemy to arrive they were all in the same place. They were all there to follow the same great purpose.
The uniforms reached them. The crowds began to break as they were pushed back. The great and noble purpose lost as the fights began. But it wasn?t the angry and the ignorant who fought. They had waited for their fate, and now this was their reward for such patience.
They fought back. The uniforms had begun their assault, and now the waiting masses fought for their freedom. Outnumbered and afraid they began to break. One man watched.
He?d been there, unable to escape the coming storm. Watching as the two great forces battled for control of the streets, fought for supremacy. He?d seen the uniforms as they began to hurt and maim their foe to preserve their cause. He?d observed the crowds as they tried to protect their freedom. And then, he died.
It was a uniform who saw him. He?d been there on the edge, neither taking part nor running. The man who had no place. Neither a uniform nor part of the crowd, he?d waited. And he?d watched.
The uniform ran and struck him down. Not a tough blow, but a blow nonetheless. It had caused his heart to burst, his life to flutter and fail right there on that cold hard ground. The man who watched, watched no more.
The crowds saw. They stopped the fighting and turned. They waited. Then they left. And they remembered.
The uniforms saw. They too waited and remembered. They covered it up. An accident, they said. An unfortunate mishap, a casualty of war. And the crowds heard, and cried ?No! He was the greatest of us all. And he shall be remembered.?
And so it was, that he was remembered, and came to usher a new age, and become a beacon of hope and change for those who desired freedom. His life was worth so little, and yet caused so much. And they all watched. They all remembered.
Hope you like them
P.S. Sorry for the double post, but I didn't want to have one extremely long post that people would be bored by.
He had to try.
As he burst through the edge of the forest, his blue-black cloak ripping behind him on stray branches, only one thought entered his mind.
He had to try.
The sound of his falling feet was muffled by the grass, alive and green. The owls hooted as they began their nocturnal hunt, and the creatures of the darkness began to rise from their slumber. But he heard none of this. The only sounds he heard were the thumping of his heart and his own voice echoing in his head.
He had to try.
On his face, a look of determination. In his heart, a frantic need. This was something that he felt he needed to do; if he didn't at least attempt this seemingly impossible feat, he knew that he would never be happy, and he would never be able to live with himself.
He had to try.
He barely noticed the sound of his feet falling to the ground changing from a dull thud to a sharp click. He had only one thing on his mind.
He had to try.
He reached the house he had been so desperately searching for. With his heart beating in his ears, he approached the door.
He had to try.
With a flick of his wrist, he opened the door before him.
"Victoria!" he shouted. Or, at least, he tried to shout. Because before him, on the very bed where he had first proclaimed his love for her, Victoria was on the bed with another. It had not even been two days since Victoria had left him, and the person she was with? One of his friends, Mageria.
Victoria instantly sat up, as did Mageria, and they covered their naked bodies with the blanket on the floor. The same blanket, he grimly noted, that he and Victoria used their first night.
"Draeth!" Victoria said, surprise evident in her voice. "It's not what you think!"
"Really?" Draeth's once proud-now-turned-monotone voice said. "Because it looks to me that you gave me up for someone that had treated you like shit."
Mageria buried her face in the covers, stifling her cries. Victoria looked over at Draeth, and knew that there was nothing she could do to repair the wound that was now in his heart.
"Everything you said to me, Victoria," Came the emotionless voice. "Was but a lie, was it not?"
"No, that's not-"
"Yes it is!" Draeth shouted as he turned from the doorway. "I never want to see you again, you understand me?"
Through her cries, Victoria nodded and said, "Yes..."
Draeth exited the house, slamming the door behind him. Victoria knew that she had given up the best thing in her life...
He had tried...
Sorry if it's a little long, but I just couldn't stop myself from writing. Give me some pointers, tell me what I need to improve.
As he burst through the edge of the forest, his blue-black cloak ripping behind him on stray branches, only one thought entered his mind.
He had to try.
The sound of his falling feet was muffled by the grass, alive and green. The owls hooted as they began their nocturnal hunt, and the creatures of the darkness began to rise from their slumber. But he heard none of this. The only sounds he heard were the thumping of his heart and his own voice echoing in his head.
He had to try.
On his face, a look of determination. In his heart, a frantic need. This was something that he felt he needed to do; if he didn't at least attempt this seemingly impossible feat, he knew that he would never be happy, and he would never be able to live with himself.
He had to try.
He barely noticed the sound of his feet falling to the ground changing from a dull thud to a sharp click. He had only one thing on his mind.
He had to try.
He reached the house he had been so desperately searching for. With his heart beating in his ears, he approached the door.
He had to try.
With a flick of his wrist, he opened the door before him.
"Victoria!" he shouted. Or, at least, he tried to shout. Because before him, on the very bed where he had first proclaimed his love for her, Victoria was on the bed with another. It had not even been two days since Victoria had left him, and the person she was with? One of his friends, Mageria.
Victoria instantly sat up, as did Mageria, and they covered their naked bodies with the blanket on the floor. The same blanket, he grimly noted, that he and Victoria used their first night.
"Draeth!" Victoria said, surprise evident in her voice. "It's not what you think!"
"Really?" Draeth's once proud-now-turned-monotone voice said. "Because it looks to me that you gave me up for someone that had treated you like shit."
Mageria buried her face in the covers, stifling her cries. Victoria looked over at Draeth, and knew that there was nothing she could do to repair the wound that was now in his heart.
"Everything you said to me, Victoria," Came the emotionless voice. "Was but a lie, was it not?"
"No, that's not-"
"Yes it is!" Draeth shouted as he turned from the doorway. "I never want to see you again, you understand me?"
Through her cries, Victoria nodded and said, "Yes..."
Draeth exited the house, slamming the door behind him. Victoria knew that she had given up the best thing in her life...
He had tried...
Sorry if it's a little long, but I just couldn't stop myself from writing. Give me some pointers, tell me what I need to improve.
NamelessTrivun said:
Brilliant story, really well written. Just enough back story, without going into unnecessary detail. Unexpected twist, well I didn't see it coming, but that could be lack of sleep over the last few days. Also great ending, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.
Protest
I wasn't so keen on this one, I like to be drawn in and I wasn't, but that's more a question of personal taste. Seems equally well written, but it didn't seem to be put in context, ie, why the protest was happening. However you may have left it ambiguous on purpose, so....
PS, if you aren't a writer, you do a bloody good impression of one.
Flesh and blood
What is a human?
I ask you this
What is love?
I ask you this
Are they the same or different? Are they separate or together?
I answer; the human is nothing but flesh and blood
Flesh and blood and nothing more
But then I ask you this, why is only some humans allowed to love?
What is a human?
I ask you this
What is love?
I ask you this
Are they the same or different? Are they separate or together?
I answer; the human is nothing but flesh and blood
Flesh and blood and nothing more
But then I ask you this, why is only some humans allowed to love?
Dark Powers in red
They came and took
Even though they shouldn?t
The world became ice and froze in terror
They came and forbid
Dressed in red they said no
And the world looked away
They say that it is okay
But it is not
I pray
That the sun will rise and the ice will melt
I hope
That this time
It is the world that says no
PS. Shit, double post S: Sorry....
They came and took
Even though they shouldn?t
The world became ice and froze in terror
They came and forbid
Dressed in red they said no
And the world looked away
They say that it is okay
But it is not
I pray
That the sun will rise and the ice will melt
I hope
That this time
It is the world that says no
PS. Shit, double post S: Sorry....
ThanksGeek@Heart said:
. Yeah, the ambiguity was on purpose, with 'Protest' I decided that I'd basically write it as a bit of a tribute to the G20 stuff and Ian Tomlinson, but I didn't want to single out any particular protest or cause. The events could really be applied to any protest, look at all the people who died in Tiannanmen Square back in 1989...As for 'Nameless', the ending wasn't really meant to be happy, more so it was supposed to be quite ambiguous too. I can see where you'd think it was a happy ending, and then some would see it as a little bit sad, but it's up to everyone to make their own conclusions. I'm glad you liked it though, and thanks for the comments
I haven't written anything for years (tried to write a novel about 2 years ago but I got lazy. Maybe short stories are more my thing...?).
Once upon a time, a thread was created that required people to use their brains and come up with something more interesting the "fail" or "TL;DR".
It faded into obscurity.
It faded into obscurity.
Fair enough, but we who've posted here so far have great creativity in us and that's why we've done these stories and posted them here. It's like that 'The Artist in Thee' thread. It'll go for days without anyone posting then suddenly it springs to life and there's a flurry of people posting there. This will be the same. And that art thread's been going for a good while now...Steelfists said:
THIS IS THE INTERNET CALL ME GHEY OR SOMETHING FOR GODS SAKE!Trivun said:Fair enough, but we who've posted here so far have great creativity in us and that's why we've done these stories and posted them here. It's like that 'The Artist in Thee' thread. It'll go for days without anyone posting then suddenly it springs to life and there's a flurry of people posting there. This will be the same. And that art thread's been going for a good while now...Steelfists said: