Post by Amistad Deserenia on Aug 25, 2005 1:47:04 GMT
Author's Note: This is just something that popped into my head, not even closed to finish, hell it's just barely been started. But I could really use some tips...
If you're here just malign my writing, then I'm telling you to exit the thread now. I don't want people telling me they don't like it, if you like it I want to hear it. If you actually have pointers that'll help then I urge you to post 'em...
I'll be updating it soon, hopefully. But just telling you now, it'll have alot more self-violence, parental abuse, and some anti-God comments in it. If you'd rather not read anything with that in it, then don't read this (It doesn't have much now, but like I said, it will soon). You've been warned.
Let me just add one more thing... My character (Amistad) is in this, but this is not her story/history. I just used her name and some of her physical/personal qualities. Well, read and review, porfavor.
God? Are you there? Can you hear me? I just want to know what you look like, do you have wings and a beard? What’s it like to be perfect…?
A hiss of pain broke the silence, scarlet droplets splattering messily on the wooden floor. Blood ran down her arm, over her fingers, staining her pale skin. Another cut, not remarkably long, but deep enough to leave it’s mark. A thin lethal razor blade was held deftly between three fingers, the hand clutching the weapon no longer shook. She’d long since grown used to the blood, to the cuts, to the pain. Not a squeamish bone left in her body.
But she had to hurry or she’d miss her bus again. She couldn’t afford another tardy, she’d be suspended if she was, and then she’d be in deep s***. Mainly because when one is suspended, ones parental units are called. Her parents already breathed down her neck enough, she didn’t need to add another point in a long list of her mistakes. They’d never drop it, not until she fixed it, fixed her.
God, do you feel pain? Do you ever feel nervous or insecure? Have you ever made a mistake? I just want to know if you ever chose the wrong path, maybe played a game of poker with your pal Lucifer?
Blade beneath her pillow, rug over the bloody floor until she had time to clean it, and a black long-sleeved shirt over the cuts. Backpack, CD player, sketch book. She was ready to go, more like run. The bus was about to pull away from the curb when she finally made it out, panting heavily to catch her breath. As usual she sat in the last seat, alone, Avril Lavigne blaring on through her headphones.
“I couldn’t tell you why she felt that way
But she felt it everyday.
And I couldn’t help her,
I just watch her make the same mistakes again”
School, what a myriad of different people. The jocks, the cheerleaders, the wanna-be Paris Hiltons, the drama geeks, the punks, the Goths, the loners. Oh, yes, the loners. Hypocrites, that’s what she thought of them. Labeled by society as loners, but of course it’s what they had aimed for. But how could you be a loner if you were part of a group? And of course, the school freak, the true outcast. Her, and it certainly wasn’t something she was proud of.
Ice blue eyes surveyed the groups, the intense stare hidden behind a veil of black hair. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to belong to one of those groups, it didn’t matter which one, so long as it was a group of more than a single person. What would it be like to be accepted by her fellow students? To not be viewed as anti-social and ‘weird’?
God, do you have friends? Do you get together with them and hang out, maybe toss back a couple beers, or just talk about your day? Do they accept you, despite your almightiness, your superiority over them? Are you ever afraid to talk to people, to become visible? Have you ever been invisible to someone, even if you’re standing right in front of them?
Class, boring as always. The most eventful thing being the arrival of a new student. The school hadn’t had one of those, other than the freshmen, in quite some time, especially so late in the year. A French transfer student, the teacher had said, called Adam Levieu.
And curiosity compelled her to look up, to pull her nose out of her latest time-travel romance novel. Something she was reluctant to do, as it was one of her favorites. But since she had read The Dark Highlander[/u] at least three times before, she put the bookmarker in place and shut the book, lifting her gaze inquisitively to study the newest addition to their school.
And what a shock she received. Though she’d never had a boyfriend before, she had looked at boys often, as a female it was in her nature. The school had some of the finest male specimen around her age, but none compared to the one standing at the head of the class. Glancing around quickly, she came to the realization that she wasn’t the only one who found him attractive.
He was ridiculously beautiful, a word she’d never before used in reference to the opposite sex; dark hair styled carelessly, brushing his shoulders and falling into his eyes; gray eyes framed by thick, long lashes with thick brows raised above them. And, wow, did he know how to dress. Dark slacks, white t-shirt, and a suede jacket. He looked much too mature to be in high school, but according to the words coming out of his mouth, he was 17. Not that she was paying much attention to his words, just his voice. A deep husky timbre, it suited him perfectly.
“…I think I like that you seem sincere,
I think I’d like to get to know you a little better..”
Avril’s last words flooded her mind and stuck, just before she hastily shut off her CD player and shoved it into her pack. The teacher was looking in her direction- and she didn’t want to risk getting it taken away, and glancing around she realized why. All the desks in the old classroom seated two people, and hers was the only one with an available chair. So that meant she’d finally have a desk partner, and likely they’d be stuck together as project partners, that’s just the way things were set up in class.
God, are you giving me a chance at making a friend? Or are you once more trying to make a fool out of a lowly human, entertained at my expense? How am I expected to concentrate around such a guy, much less speak to him?
Her bright gaze stayed on Adam as he wove his way towards her and plopped into the chair next to her. The polite smile he flashed her caused a rosy tint to take residence in her pale cheeks, a hesitant smile curving her own lips before she lowered her face, once more hidden behind the veil that was her hair. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to talk to him, but that hope was dashed as the teacher assigned them a partner assignment. An interview and short biography of your ‘desk buddy’.
“Hey, I’m Adam Levieu.” he said, casually lounging back in his chair, gray gaze set intently on her.
She wasn’t used to being the attention of the gaze of someone like him, and it made her frown nervously. But if she frowned he’d think she didn’t like him, or that she was rude and unkind. None of which was the case. After the first few attempts she managed a lopsided smile, her voice stuttering out an answer “I-I’m Amy, err- Amistad De-Deserenia.”
“Well Amy, it seems like we’re partnered up. So care to tell me a bit about yourself , anything you wouldn’t mind having put down in writing.” his husky voice drawled out, a boyish grin revealing a dimple.
He just got cuter by the second, and it was make her feel embarrassingly plain. Taking a deep breath to calm her overly shy nerves, she said “There’s not much to tell. I’ve lived in this backward town for a little more than half of my life. I’m 16, I was adopted by Clarissa and Robert Hamleton at the age of six. Spent my time before that changing from one foster home to the next every two years. That’s basically it, all the rest is really boring stuff.”
Most of her life’s summary had been said in a blank monotone voice, her gaze had remained averted, a small frown showing on her naturally pouty lips. The tension in her shoulders told him there was definitely more stuff and it wasn’t boring, but it also told him it was best not to probe further at the moment. But he would later, definitely; this small, delicately beautiful girl with insecurity wrapped around her like a comfort blanket intrigued him greatly. For now he just moved on to a lighter subject, “What about hobbies?”
[/center]
If you're here just malign my writing, then I'm telling you to exit the thread now. I don't want people telling me they don't like it, if you like it I want to hear it. If you actually have pointers that'll help then I urge you to post 'em...
I'll be updating it soon, hopefully. But just telling you now, it'll have alot more self-violence, parental abuse, and some anti-God comments in it. If you'd rather not read anything with that in it, then don't read this (It doesn't have much now, but like I said, it will soon). You've been warned.
Let me just add one more thing... My character (Amistad) is in this, but this is not her story/history. I just used her name and some of her physical/personal qualities. Well, read and review, porfavor.
God? Are you there? Can you hear me? I just want to know what you look like, do you have wings and a beard? What’s it like to be perfect…?
A hiss of pain broke the silence, scarlet droplets splattering messily on the wooden floor. Blood ran down her arm, over her fingers, staining her pale skin. Another cut, not remarkably long, but deep enough to leave it’s mark. A thin lethal razor blade was held deftly between three fingers, the hand clutching the weapon no longer shook. She’d long since grown used to the blood, to the cuts, to the pain. Not a squeamish bone left in her body.
But she had to hurry or she’d miss her bus again. She couldn’t afford another tardy, she’d be suspended if she was, and then she’d be in deep s***. Mainly because when one is suspended, ones parental units are called. Her parents already breathed down her neck enough, she didn’t need to add another point in a long list of her mistakes. They’d never drop it, not until she fixed it, fixed her.
God, do you feel pain? Do you ever feel nervous or insecure? Have you ever made a mistake? I just want to know if you ever chose the wrong path, maybe played a game of poker with your pal Lucifer?
Blade beneath her pillow, rug over the bloody floor until she had time to clean it, and a black long-sleeved shirt over the cuts. Backpack, CD player, sketch book. She was ready to go, more like run. The bus was about to pull away from the curb when she finally made it out, panting heavily to catch her breath. As usual she sat in the last seat, alone, Avril Lavigne blaring on through her headphones.
“I couldn’t tell you why she felt that way
But she felt it everyday.
And I couldn’t help her,
I just watch her make the same mistakes again”
School, what a myriad of different people. The jocks, the cheerleaders, the wanna-be Paris Hiltons, the drama geeks, the punks, the Goths, the loners. Oh, yes, the loners. Hypocrites, that’s what she thought of them. Labeled by society as loners, but of course it’s what they had aimed for. But how could you be a loner if you were part of a group? And of course, the school freak, the true outcast. Her, and it certainly wasn’t something she was proud of.
Ice blue eyes surveyed the groups, the intense stare hidden behind a veil of black hair. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to belong to one of those groups, it didn’t matter which one, so long as it was a group of more than a single person. What would it be like to be accepted by her fellow students? To not be viewed as anti-social and ‘weird’?
God, do you have friends? Do you get together with them and hang out, maybe toss back a couple beers, or just talk about your day? Do they accept you, despite your almightiness, your superiority over them? Are you ever afraid to talk to people, to become visible? Have you ever been invisible to someone, even if you’re standing right in front of them?
Class, boring as always. The most eventful thing being the arrival of a new student. The school hadn’t had one of those, other than the freshmen, in quite some time, especially so late in the year. A French transfer student, the teacher had said, called Adam Levieu.
And curiosity compelled her to look up, to pull her nose out of her latest time-travel romance novel. Something she was reluctant to do, as it was one of her favorites. But since she had read The Dark Highlander
And what a shock she received. Though she’d never had a boyfriend before, she had looked at boys often, as a female it was in her nature. The school had some of the finest male specimen around her age, but none compared to the one standing at the head of the class. Glancing around quickly, she came to the realization that she wasn’t the only one who found him attractive.
He was ridiculously beautiful, a word she’d never before used in reference to the opposite sex; dark hair styled carelessly, brushing his shoulders and falling into his eyes; gray eyes framed by thick, long lashes with thick brows raised above them. And, wow, did he know how to dress. Dark slacks, white t-shirt, and a suede jacket. He looked much too mature to be in high school, but according to the words coming out of his mouth, he was 17. Not that she was paying much attention to his words, just his voice. A deep husky timbre, it suited him perfectly.
“…I think I like that you seem sincere,
I think I’d like to get to know you a little better..”
Avril’s last words flooded her mind and stuck, just before she hastily shut off her CD player and shoved it into her pack. The teacher was looking in her direction- and she didn’t want to risk getting it taken away, and glancing around she realized why. All the desks in the old classroom seated two people, and hers was the only one with an available chair. So that meant she’d finally have a desk partner, and likely they’d be stuck together as project partners, that’s just the way things were set up in class.
God, are you giving me a chance at making a friend? Or are you once more trying to make a fool out of a lowly human, entertained at my expense? How am I expected to concentrate around such a guy, much less speak to him?
Her bright gaze stayed on Adam as he wove his way towards her and plopped into the chair next to her. The polite smile he flashed her caused a rosy tint to take residence in her pale cheeks, a hesitant smile curving her own lips before she lowered her face, once more hidden behind the veil that was her hair. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to talk to him, but that hope was dashed as the teacher assigned them a partner assignment. An interview and short biography of your ‘desk buddy’.
“Hey, I’m Adam Levieu.” he said, casually lounging back in his chair, gray gaze set intently on her.
She wasn’t used to being the attention of the gaze of someone like him, and it made her frown nervously. But if she frowned he’d think she didn’t like him, or that she was rude and unkind. None of which was the case. After the first few attempts she managed a lopsided smile, her voice stuttering out an answer “I-I’m Amy, err- Amistad De-Deserenia.”
“Well Amy, it seems like we’re partnered up. So care to tell me a bit about yourself , anything you wouldn’t mind having put down in writing.” his husky voice drawled out, a boyish grin revealing a dimple.
He just got cuter by the second, and it was make her feel embarrassingly plain. Taking a deep breath to calm her overly shy nerves, she said “There’s not much to tell. I’ve lived in this backward town for a little more than half of my life. I’m 16, I was adopted by Clarissa and Robert Hamleton at the age of six. Spent my time before that changing from one foster home to the next every two years. That’s basically it, all the rest is really boring stuff.”
Most of her life’s summary had been said in a blank monotone voice, her gaze had remained averted, a small frown showing on her naturally pouty lips. The tension in her shoulders told him there was definitely more stuff and it wasn’t boring, but it also told him it was best not to probe further at the moment. But he would later, definitely; this small, delicately beautiful girl with insecurity wrapped around her like a comfort blanket intrigued him greatly. For now he just moved on to a lighter subject, “What about hobbies?”
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