Inspired by my suggestion and subsequent support in the writing thread, I decided to make this one. Basically, someone submits a piece of writing that's really short, less than 1000 words or so, and then receives comments on it. If I may I will start us off. Please say anything you'd like and feel free to submit something of your own. This piece is a few years old now and far from perfect, but I like it enough to share.
I dig it. The description of the relationships between the characters that appeared and those that didn't lent an air of connectivity to the whole thing, and I was able to relate to the speaker more because of it. Very realistic dialogue, very good description, especially in the last paragraph. I dig. Spoiler For The Commons Musician The music flows, filling her mind, her soul, her spirit. She sways with the tune, feeling each note beneath her fingers. There are no missteps, no mistakes. She knows what she does, and she’s done it thousands of times. Her fingers are calloused from years of practice, of striving to do better. The key changes, and she shifts her small frame to adjust to the higher end of the piano. The melody pours out, emotion swells and fills the world around her. Everyone stops for a moment to listen to the beauty that has been brought forth. She closes her eyes and smiles, ignoring the rest of the world, content in the simple beauty that is her music. She plays faster, the piece turns darker. Minor chords and dissonance. The expression on her face changes to the music, her eyebrows knit together, a dangerous look on her face. Her playing jars the world around her, and people start to move again, the sound of the deep darkness making them uneasy. And then it changes back. Flowing, beautiful, unending. Everyone stops again, and listens intently. A smile flits across her face with the change. Nothing else matters. The music is all that’s ever been important. She fuels the sound, and the sound fuels her. The song slowly winds down, before gently stopping on a resolved chord. There is peace. She removes her hands from the keyboard and sits for a moment, reflecting on what she has brought into the world. The masses are shaken out of their reverie, and continue on with the rest of their day, unaware of the years of work, the tears, the pain it took for her to achieve this level of playing. But she doesn’t do this for recognition, for fame. She does it because to bring even a little bit of beauty in the world is a treasure few will ever know. And she is beautiful for it.
Hm, I quite like the piece, though I do find the relationship between her and her music a little less deep then I think I would have liked, especially the transition between the light-dark-light. Also, the audience seem very much a by-product of the background, almost as if it's something added as an afterthought. Nice piece, though. Good work! Mine's longer then the previous two-around 2k ._. Also, warnings of mention of suicide. It's a fanfic of Detective Conan, and it's called Smile. Spoiler The road crunched beneath his feet as he staggered towards a bridge overlooking a highway. The bride was already quite empty, at this time of the night, and Kaito was already exhausted. A few more hours, he told himself, a ghost of his old smile spreading across his face. He was always tense and edgy, after the murder of his father and attempted murder on both his mother and himself. His mother had been sent to the hospital with serious injuries, and the doctors had no hope of ever curing her. Even if they could, physically, mentally speaking... A few more hours before he reached the base of Mt Fuji, Aoigahara forest. Japan's number one place for suicides and the rumored second highest suicide rates in the entire world. He rubbed his shoulder, lifting the bag which held the rope he would be used for killing himself when he reached the forest. Although killing himself was something he would never have had thought of all those years ago, the moment he walked into the room where his father's body was...it was so red, the stench to metallic. It filled his clogged his nose and filled his tongue. The only thing he could think of as he approached the body was 'wow...I never knew human bodies had this much of blood...' He had dropped to the floor, screaming. Afterwards, he couldn't remember things that happened for days. He only remembered the body, the blood, the smell... Kaito swallowed bile as he pushed back the memory of that day. It was something so disgusting, something he never wanted to remember again. He became a zombie, simply a shell of what he was. And then, the next day, he and his mother were nearly killed. His mother, already in a state of shock, broke down, both mentally and physically. He never saw his mother ever again in person after she was whisked away to the hospital. He stepped into the slightly too cold to be comfortable motel lobby and nodded at the receptionist, who popped her gum with a loud pop. "1 day is 8000 yen, 2 days is-" Kaito dropped the correct amount of money onto the tray, shuffling away the moment she placed the keys in his outstretched palm. Yes, he had decided. The moment someone smiled at him, even if it was simply a fleeting, non-committal smile, the moment one was directed at him, he would turn the other way and swear to never think of suicide again. But it was nearly 6 days since he had started on his 'journey'. No one had spared him a second glance; only cold glares and lowly muttered curses as he staggered past them. He was only blocking their way, after all. Another sigh left his lips as he flopped onto the moth-eaten sheets. It had been a painful journey, but tomorrow. Tomorrow he was going to reach Aoigahara forest. Where he was going to end his life. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine even as he thought about it. First, the pain. Then slowly, the blackness, like he was falling asleep. He would be drifting in and out of consciousness, and he would die with a smile on his face. That's right, he told himself. A KID worthy smile. Rays of too bright light poked fun at him through the thin curtains he somehow managed to draw last night before falling asleep. He had slept surprisingly well, considering that it was most probably going to be his last day on earth. It was a deep, comfortable sleep, with dreams of meeting his parents-finally-in the afterworld. Where they would finally be happy again, he knew. "The final day...huh?" Staring back at him was a stranger. No longer were the happy, laughing eyes; those were long replaced by dead, lifeless ones. His skin was pale and he simply looked...dead. A snort escaped him this time. How ironic. He looked like death rolled over and yet he was about to die in a few hours. Maybe this was how he was going to look like when dead. Except, he was going to be smiling. Kaito pulled at his cheeks, sunken in and hollow. They didn't seem to be working. His face couldn't smile, couldn't really move. Even his voice was thick and scratchy. He stared at the mirror and growled at himself. "Fuck you." Finally, he tore himself from the reflection and headed towards the dense woods of Aoigahara forest, the tips of the trees in the faraway distance. As per the rest of his journey, he walked. His feet were aching, his body was resisting, his head pounding. He felt like Jeff the killer. Except that he wasn't going to kill anybody. He was only going to kill himself. He walked pass signs which proclaimed "Turn back! Reconsider your decision!" and the hotline for emergencies and suicide help lines. Kaito's fingers traced the rusty edge of one such sign along the silent and dense forest path. Did any of these signs even help those who came here? Were they of any use? They all seem to be in a wasted effort, he mused. Whoever came here already made up their mind. There was no going back. He finally came up to a tree that was large and sturdy enough to hold his weight, but with a branch just at the right height. He removed the rope from his bag, glancing at his surroundings. It was quiet, the only sounds his haggard breathing. The humidity had gotten to him, and despite it being a cold Spring, he was sweating buckets. A small smile flickered across his face as he thought of his parents, who would be waiting for him. Together...they would be happy... As he bent down to place his bag on the dry grass, a loud yell came from behind him, echoed by the sound of footsteps. He sounded like he was the only one. "Hey! What are you thinking of doing to yourself?!" Kaito turned, and he met the most dazzling azure eyes he had ever seen. They shone and glimmered with life, though with an underlying wisdom only someone who had gone through hell and back could have had. His hair was slightly damp, plastered to his forehead and neck as he jogged up to Kaito. A white shirt which showed off all the right places stuck to his body, revealing his extremely toned chest, something which made Kaito gulp nervously. He had never denied being bisexual, and there was something about this man who made him seem to want to kneel down before him and obey his every order. "Were you trying to commit suicide?" He deadpanned, nodding his chin in the general direction of his abandoned bag. Kaito felt a sense of exasperation course through him. "What else do people come here for? To commit suicide, no?" The Greek God hot guy shrugged and looked behind him. "There are some people who come here for a hike. Like me, for example." Kaito merely stared at his indifference. "Then why did you approach me for?" The guy (who seemed to be around Kaito's age) turned back with serious eyes-there his inner wisdom shown through. "Just to ask if you're going to die. If you are, go on, don't let me bother you." Kaito nodded and turned back, fingering the rope. A sense of dread filled him. Familiar dread-the one he always felt when he thought of committing suicide. "You know, I actually...I had a family. My father, he...he was murdered. The next day, my mother and I were almost killed by the same man. And both times...I was the first person to witness them. I even saw...my father's body...! Now my mother is in the hospital because of me, and the doctors say she might not recover, and I don't have any one else to...!" He heard a sigh from behind him, and the voice became soft and low. "But always remember...you're still alive. You're still here, right now. You made it through. No matter how hard it actually was, you picked yourself up and walked. Isn't that all that matters?" Inside, Kaito was praying. He was praying so hard for that one life. That the man was going to be smiling at him. So he wouldn't have to die. He slowly turned... ...and was met with the most bedazzling smile that made his legs go weak and his brain fuzzy and sweat all the more because someone smiled at him. It wasn't the joking smile friends shared when together. It wasn't mocking, either. It wasn't a smile with a mask covering its brilliance. Instead, it was a true smile, one from the heart, and it was directed at him. And it made him fall in love so deeply that he could never get out of the pit he had just walked into. The man outstretched his hand to Kaito, pulling him up with a swift, fluid motion. "I'm Kudo Shinchi, inspector of Tokyo Metropolitan. And you are...?" Kaito stammered slightly as he mentally tried the man's name. Kudo Shinchi. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue so easily. It felt amazing; it filled him from the bottom of his heart. "K-Kaito Kuroba..." Shinchi smiled once more, blinding Kaito in it's brightness. And then, as if in a dream, he leaned in and whispered into Kaito's ear: "I hope you like me, because I like you...and if you're taken, I will fight to have you. I'm possessive like that." As he straightened, the last thing Kaito could see was the smirk on his face as his face exploded in a blush, before kneeling down and readying himself for the painful rejection. When he finished, he regarded Shinchi with a slightly wounded expression. "You're...kidding, right? Someone like me...? At least play a better joke on me next time..." Shinchi leaned in and pecked him on his cheek, interlacing his warm hand with Kaito's, squeezing it slightly and leading them down the path Kaito took. "I wasn't kidding. I'm head over heels with you, Kaito Kuroba." And finally, Kaito smiled. He found someone who found his smile-and it would be there for a long, long time.
Beautiful. The description is fantastic. When you were describing him seeing the body, smelling the blood, it actually made me a bit nauseous. In a good way! I loved this. Just, absolutely wonderful. I enjoyed the love at the end, but personally, I don't think every story needs that happy ending. Sometimes, things don't get resolved. And that's okay. I like it how it is, but I would also enjoy seeing what would have happened if Kudo HADN'T smiled. Food for thought! Spoiler They’re there. Can you hear them? Whispering, hidden just out of sight. Just out of the corner… I heard them, once upon a time. I could listen to them for days. They told me things, and showed me things. Things that no one has known before, and that no one will ever know again. Can you hear them… They spoke of things that couldn’t be real, that couldn’t have existed. But their words, they resonated within me. They filled my waking thoughts, and controlled my dreams. I saw places I had never been, walked through them as though I had lived there a thousand years. There were no people. Not a living soul had set foot where I strode. I heard them clearer, there. The whispers more than whispers. They talked. I listened. I didn’t need to speak, they knew what I was going to say. Through it all, there was a name. Even in the Old Place, where I heard them clearly, they whispered it. It was a thing of fear for them. A word that they dare not utter too loud, lest it hear them. I don’t now remember what it was. Do you hear them yet? At first I was afraid of them. I didn’t know what they wanted, I didn’t know why I could hear them while no one else could. But when they explained it to me…It all made sense. The longer I listened, the more they told me, the less I feared them. The less I feared the great black, and of leaving this existence. The more they talked, the more I feared that name, half whispered. What was that name… I know you can hear them. You can. Everyone can. But not everyone listens. And this, this is what will be the true cause. This is what will Did you hear it? Just there. They said it. That name. It’s been so long since they’ve talked to me. I’ve missed them. Being without them has been like living without an eye. The world isn’t whole, some things go missed. They’ve gone again. I know you can hear them. They told me how they do it. In complete quiet, when there’s no sound at all to cloud your brain, that’s when they plant their seed. It grows when things collide. When you are struck. That ringing in your ears. Do you hear them now? They’re always there, whispering their words, telling their tales. Shhh…Listen. You heard them, didn’t you? Did they tell you the name? I remember it now. It came back to me. Did you understand them? It’s okay if you didn’t, it took me a long time to completely understand what it is they wanted me to hear. But I understand, now. I can hear them… Do you see them? I’ve never seen them. They told me some people can. It’s tricky, though. You have to catch them at just the right moment. When you’re alone, and you see a movement in the corner of your eye. At night, when you’re in bed and the darkness seems to move around you. There they are. Waiting. For what, I do not know. They never told me why they came. The just told me That name. And what my purpose is. And now you know. And now they can find you, too. Do you hear them, yet? I’m so sorry. So...I'm not 100% sure what happened here....
We gonna have a story-posting competition? Cuz I'm running out of my better oneshots. :/ As for the happy ending part, I actually made use of the story of this guy who jumped off the Golden Bridge. His story was that if no one smiled at him during his entire walk there, he would commit suicide because he was certain there was no such thing as happiness in the world. I switched the story to made Kaito live, because my theme for that one was "stand up and rejoice, because you're alive". I'm glad you liked it though! As for yours, it reminded me of a story I heard before. About how the static/white noise you hear when you're alone are actually voices speaking to you. Your story follows a similar theme, and it's amazing! How the character is anyone, and the words they whisper are almost as if they are forgotten. It's as if your character is a rail-thin, delusional man with haunted eyes, who only wishes to rest, even if it means his death. An amazing horror story. This one is much longer (I'm so sorry next person who's reading it this has 3.5k+ words) Based on a stranger I played a game with at an arcade one day, turned into fluffy (and stupid) romance. Title is "The guy I met at the arcade" Fanfic of shugo chara. Spoiler The blasting music assaulted us from all sides as they stepped into the dim arcade. Claw machines lined the entrance, full of no doubt hard-to-get toys, interrupted by the occasional notes-to-coin changer and a front counter. Upstairs, the loud music of the game machines pounded through, no doubt deafening a person for a while. Yaya let out a loud cheer as she dragged Kairi to view some claw machines, Rima adopting a cooler look as Nagi dragged her upstairs with a gentle smile. Kukai had raced Utau up the stairs, both nearly bowling over patrons in their hurry, leaving Amu all alone. The pinkette sighed and looked around the arcade with well hidden interest. She had never really been to arcades, especially since their father thought it was a 'bad influence' on his two 'sparrows'. Really, the only time she had been to an arcade was when she was with her friends, who were now paired up with their partners. Not that the pinkette really minded; her friends were happy together. Although it did mean that she was often left alone, being the only single Guardian-even Tadase had a girlfriend from another school ever since they'd broke up. She strolled along the machines, finally climbing up the stairs to the upper floor when she came across a teen-or was he a man? He was too lanky to tell-expertly playing a alien shooting game with plenty of ease. He held machine gun, the butt of it pressed into the hollow of shoulder, one hand grabbing the pistol grip, the other holding the barrel, hitting the bottom of the clip with controlled force every once in a while. Amu stared at the man, who was wasting no bullets as he shot down crawling aliens. He was a one-man army, mowing down large groups with barely any effort wasted with a smirk on his face. Finally, after what seemed like too long, he lost all his HP. Amu applauded slowly, walking towards him with a grin on her face. "Not bad, hotshot," she called, picking up the heavy gun and examining it as she produced a few coins from her jeans pocket. "You wanna play together?" The man smirked and tugged a few coins loose from his tight, form fitting jeans. "Who knows? You might be the one to die first, pinky." Amu let out a small growl from the back of her throat when she heard that nickname. She slotted in the coins and all but slammed the start button in her anger. "You're on, Bluebeard." The man shot her another good-looking smirk and rolled his eyes, doing the same, but with a certain smugness in his actions. "Bluebeard? Seriously? Of all things, Bluebeard? I don't even have a beard, do I?" Amu rolled her eyes and shot 'Chapter Mode' before he could get a word in. "Who cares, maybe you have blue hair somewhere else on you?" His smirk slipped into a grin as he shook his head in amusement, shooting down the first of the aliens which were, well, lumbering, their way towards the pair. It was the start of a beautiful friendship. Or, well, as far as one could call shouting things like, "I HATE SHOTGUNS! WHY THE SHIT WERE WE GIVEN SHOTGUNS?!" (that was Amu) and "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! STOP MAKING ME SAVE YOUR BLOODY ASS!" (now this was Bluebeard, as Amu nicknamed him) over the blaring noise of the arcade. Finally, after the pair had finished almost half the game without drawing much attention from the other patrons in the arcade, strangely enough, both were sweating buckets, hollow of their shoulders aching from pressing the butt of the gun, and throats sore from yelling over the loud noise of the machine. Amu turned towards him, outstretched hand and grin in place. "Good game, Bluebeard. What'cha wanna do next?" He shrugged and slung his bag over his other shoulder, grabbing her hands in a firm grip. "Up for air hockey, Pinky?" And when Amu grinned, the deal was sealed, and the competition was back on. X Almost 2 hours had passed, and the sky was turning dark. Damned winter and longer nights, Amu had cursed. They made their way downstairs, only to walk past a machine filled with locks and keys-specifically, golden lock and keys, each bearing the main design of a white four-leaved clover. A grin overtook Amu's face as she tugged the man unconsciously over to the said brightly lit-till-it-burns-your-eyes machine. As he approached it, he hissed rather loudly and flung his hand over his eyes. "God Pinky, this shit's bright!" The pinkette only laughed and pressed her face to the plastic childishly. "Hey, I want that. Looks fun." The teen stared at her before rolling his eyes and letting out a loud sigh. One too loud to be real. "Get it yourself, then, Pinky." She puffed her cheeks (looking absolutely adorable to him, if the slight flush of color on his face was any indication) and turned back to the machine, her hood flying as she did so. She dug out a few coins from her jeans once more before slotting them into the machine, trying to pick a lock from the large pile balancing precariously over the wide opening. She was so absorbed that she didn't notice the teen walking away from her. She was too busy aiming for the lock that she didn't hear the sound of coins tumbling into metal a few machines away from her. And when she missed the lock, using the last of her coins, she was held in place by a sudden weight on her head. "What the hell?!" The weight moved slightly, the voice muffled as he spoke. "Stop moving, you're doing it all wrong..." He inserted a few coins as the machine sprang to life once more, the annoyingly cheery music alerting all patrons that another claw machine was stealing another sucker's money. He moved the joystick with sure movements, finally pressing the 'catch' button with a smug face. The claw barely scratched the surface, closing in on something, and finally it appeared- -holding a lock in its grasp, moving slowly in jerky movements and dropping it into the opening for the prize. Amu squealed loudly as she bent down in a flash (bumping Bluebeard's head on the plastic in the process) and retrieved the lock. She jumped around for a while before finally realizing that Bluebeard was yes, indeed there, and saw her freaking out, and bent over laughing. A blush as bright as her hair covered her face as she cleared her throat and stuffed the lock into her hoodie pocket. "Pass me a few coins, I'll get one for you too," she finally mumbled. He gasped for breath and tried to pull himself up, only to start laughing once more and receive an extremely painful whack on his head for doing so. "Arse," she muttered darkly, snatching the coins from his jeans pocket and stuffing them into the machine, all the while huffing about 'blue haired assholes'. Once more, she maneuvered the claw over a lock, only for him to appear behind her once more (only having half recovered from her smack) and wrapping his hands around her waist, whispering into her ear: "The key, not the lock." She blushed a deep red once more, and with a loud scream which was barely a whisper, hit him once more, leaving him in a smarting ball at the side of the machine. The claw dropped down with slow, jerky movements, and barely scratched the surface of the pile, picking and releasing a key onto the pile. With a loud swear, Amu deposited the last of the coins and repeated the action, this time the key dropping onto the pile- -where it ended up knocking another key on the way down, which slid into the opening destined for prize collection. With another loud cheer, Amu picked up the key and handed it to the teen (who was still curled up in pain beside the machine) with a bright smile on her face. "Here you go." He stood once more to his full height and removed it from her hands with a slight smirk. "Well, you did get this with my money, so..." he teased gently, a chuckle forming from his lips. Amu involuntarily shuddered at the sound of his chuckle-god it was so low and sexy-and crossed her arms under her chest, pushing the pair up just a tiny bit. She let a pout take over her lips before dropping her arms and laughing, almost colliding into him as she did so. "Ah, god, you're impossible. So, what do you want me to do for you? I have to leave soon, though, it's getting late." He shrugged and leaned his weight to one side, adopting an expression of deep thought. His eyes brightened slightly as a hint of a devious smirk took over his lips. "Then how about, the next time we meet, you tell me your name? I'll do the same, then, Pinky." And with that, he bent down and pecked next to her mouth, slinking away as quickly and silently as a cat as Amu flushed a deep red and slapped a hand over her mouth. As she considered running after him to smack him, she decided that taking care of her rapidly beating heart and sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of not seeing him again were more important. "That stupid perverted cat, making me fall in love with him..." ~2 years later, on Christmas day~ It's Christmas, and I'm doing my thesis, of all things," Amu mused, sipping on a mug of hot chocolate in a cozy but crowded cafe, watching couples, all bundled up, strolling around hand in hand outside. Not for the first time, she'd laughed at the thought of spending a freezing Christmas outside with your other half. The only reason she was at the cafe was because she didn't like staying at home alone; it was too quiet to be productive. She fingered the necklace she had on-the lock he had gotten from the claw machine for her-and pushed away the sinking feeling in her stomach before starting to work on her thesis once more. A few minutes after tapping away on her laptop, a deep voice which sent shivers down her spine spoke to her. "May I sit here?" She looked up and released a smirk which was oh-so-similar to his. "Of course you may, Bluebeard," she joked, picking up her chocolate in favor of returning to her thesis. He set down his own mug of chocolate and a cake slice-a chocolate cake slice (of all things, in this weather, Amu mused) and an instrument case, and sat down gracefully in the plush chair across her. "How did you recognize me?" She asked, saving her thesis and shutting the laptop screen firmly. He smirked, gesturing to her necklace with his mug. "Simple. Your necklace." And as an afterthought, he added: "Your hair; it's a natural pink. Not very common, you know? It's easy to tell since your roots are pink, too." Amu rolled her eyes before waving her hand lazily in mid air. "Where's yours? The key, I mean." He chuckled and held up his instrument case, the key dangling from a keychain. Amu nodded, attempting to swallow the anticipation after a slightly too long to be comfortable pause; she was going to know his name. And if she played her cards right, they just may become friends...and hopefully, more than friends. "Well, I'll start first," he finally broke the silence after staring at the crowd outside the glass. "Nice to meet you, I'm Tsukiyomi Ikuto." "Ikuto..." The name rolled of her tongue in sweet circles, bringing a grin to her childish face. Her words brought a smirk to his face as his smirk grew wider. "So what's yours, Pinky?" With a last pout, she finally knew he could drop the nickname. "Amu. Hinamori Amu. So stop calling me Pinky!" He shrugged and tried out her name. "Amu...Hinamori Amu. Pinky. (She nearly threw his fork at him) Amu...koi. I like Amu-koi best, so that's your name from now on." She almost threw something in his smirking face but decided it was too handsome to deface, so she sipped her hot chocolate instead. In the end, she settled on a verbal insult. "Bastard of a perverted cat..." He grinned and took her hand gently, nearly making her spit her drink in the most un-ladylike manner possible. "Anyway, we're going to be together soon, right?" If him taking her hand didn't make her choke, this certainly did. "There's a saying, if the key fits the lock, we're destined to be together." Amu highly doubted it, but if it made them more than friends, then...! Still, she allowed him to lightly tug on the lock sitting peacefully on her chest, and he took the key and slowly slotted it into the keyhole, where it turned and unlocked it with a smooth click. Amu's hands flew to her mouth as she let loose a soft "Oh, god." Ikuto, on the other hand, looked delighted and grabbed her hand even tighter than before, a happy smile spreading on his face. And she realized, it was the first real smile she saw from him. "Hey, Amu?" His deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts, his voice even lower and softer than before. It was too sexy...! "Y-yeah?" She managed to croak out softly in an extremely un-ladylike way. Oh god, had she just disgusted him? She surely did! In the end, he only chuckled softly as pressed her hands to his lips. They were soft, slightly chapped and oh-so-warm. Shit, she was falling too hard for him. "Will you be my girlfriend?" Amu blushed a deep red once more, struggling to find her tongue as she attempted to answer. "Can I...take it as a yes?" A moment of frantic nodding later, Ikuto had cupped her face and with his lean body, reached across the table and pressed his lips to hers. In an ohmygod moment for Amu, fireworks seemed to spark between them as nothing else mattered. It was only them and them alone in that single cafe, over hot chocolate and cake and a forgotten thesis, in their own world-and damn it felt so good. They separated, and Amu flushed an even deeper red and ducked her burning face into her hands as she let out a slightly loud squeal. Ikuto smiled across her and ruffled her hair; his cheeks tinted the tiniest bit pink and a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. "So, we, we're..." Amu spluttered helplessly, attempting to re-start the logical part of her mind which was shut down the moment she smelt Ikuto's manly cologne. "We're dating," Ikuto confirmed for her, stuffing the rest of his cake in his mouth as he turned to a still-steaming-and-attempting-to-comprehend-the-fact-that-they-were-dating Amu. "Come on, let's go," he smiled gently, Amu quickly packing her laptop in slightly jerky movements, Ikuto taking advantage of her state to wrap her scarf around her neck and leaving the cafe together, ignoring all the freaking out fans at their kiss. By the time Amu had collected her senses, they were already in the snow, hand in hand, and Amu wondered why she used to laugh at the thought of spending Christmas outside with your other half, freezing. Because, no matter how cold it was, spending it next to someone you loved was so warm and comfortable that you never want to let go. Amu giggled and squeezed Ikuto's hand, cuddling slightly into his side as they walked. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the scarf which was wrapped around her neck, the lock peeping underneath it. Ikuto grinned and slung his arm around her, pulling her in closer as his fingers toyed with her ear. "I love you too, Pinky." ~10 years later, a few days after Christmas~ "Yoru, time to go to bed!" Amu called, searching high and low for their son. Ikuto appeared from behind the stairs, a splitting image save for yellow instead of blue eyes on his back. If he was shrunken into a 3 year old, that is. The child pouted childishly, making both parents exchange a knowing look and laugh. "Come on baby, time to go to bed. I'll read you a bedtime story, okay?" Amu cooed, lifting the said child from Ikuto's grip onto her hip as she climbed up the stairs, Ikuto following behind and making faces at Yoru. Without looking back, Amu chided her husband. "Stop making him so excited before bed, darling. You know what happens if he's too excited." Ikuto laughed and rolled his eyes. "I know, anything happens and I'll take care of it." "What bedtime story do you want, Yoru?" The child thought for a second before smiling brightly. "How mama and papa met!" Both parents exchanged knowing looks before commencing their story of how they met. Excluding the details of the game they were playing, of course. And the cursing. It was a well repeated story, one that Yoru knew by heart. But he still loved it. A few minutes later, when Yoru was tucked in and asleep, Amu turned accusingly on Ikuto. "The lock and key fate thing was fake, wasn't it? Any key could have opened any lock in that machine." Ikuto raised his hands in mock surrender. "I wanted it to be romantic, and that was my best bet. Anyway..." he grabbed Amu by her forearms and pressed her to the wall, sealing their lips in a heated kiss. "It worked out well in the end, didn't it?" Amu smacked Ikuto lightly before running her fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. That night, Amu could have sworn Yoru might have heard what happened, since he started making weird gagging noises whenever Ikuto and Amu showed a slight display of affection for each other.
I liked it! The part where they met up again at Christmas felt a bit forced, maybe a little rushed, but I thought it was sweet. Gotta have that fluff! Spoiler I rose up, victorious. The war was mine. Sword in hand, stood atop Blind Man's Hill, I surveyed the carnage around me. Bodies littered the blood soaked ground, some of them not yet ready to become corpses. They were broken, most missing a limb or two. They crawled over their fallen comrades searching for-surely not help, but a friendly face, a last word, anything to ease their final moments of tortured existence. In the forest to the south, the fires we had lit raged on, filling the air with a thick black smoke, choking the innocence from the land. Through it, the crows and other gore-birds were fast approaching, calling out their excitement over a free meal. They drew closer and closer, the din they were making filling my ears, before finally descending upon the fallen. In the distance, a horse screamed. It seemed the carrion-eaters didn't mind if their food was slightly alive. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of the battle. Around me, the air was metallic. Though my mouth was closed, I could taste the coppery sanuinity on my tongue. The harsh, bitter scent of burning flesh then assaulted my senses, filling my mind with memories of battles won. The sword fell from my hand. What had we, what had I done? What have I become? I turned my head and retched, realizing too late that the body of my second lay next to me. My hands shook as the tears began to fall, and I sank to my knees. I buried my head in my hands, my shoulders shaking. What had I done? But there was no time for this now. I rose up, victorious. The war was mine. I left my sword where it would lay forever more, atop the cursed peak that is Blind Man's Hill. I dried my tears with one of my bloody hands as I turned my back on the death scene below me, setting my sights for the farm. Home. I actually just posted this in another thread, but I liked it and felt like sharing.
Oh shit, I love that so much. An amazing piece of work! Especially the ending, when he was overcome by guilt but had to turn his back to return home once more. The ending was simple yet powerful, and it delivered a punch that took my breath away- almost literally. Almost like a demon soaked in blood, he turns away to find solace. Reminds me of the quote: "When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares into you." Euurgh amazing. Keep it up! Your stories always motivate me to write! > < Can't post anything since I'm on my phone. Will try to make a short story soon...maybe tomorrow, since I'm way too lazy to turn on my laptop
Spoiler The shrill call of the alarm rouses me from my slumber, and I tiredly cover my eyes as once more, the mistake I made flashes across them. I could simply turn over and allow the gentle waves of sleep caress me once more, but I know the guilt that lingers on the edge of peace will haunt me. The guilt claws at my soul, forcing another sigh from my mouth. It is of no use, as the weight of my mistakes linger in the shadows, surely waiting for me to make another misstep. Another mistake, and I will fall into the abyss that I have created. Therefore, sigh wrenching itself from my chest, I tumble out of bed, limbs weighed down by rocks I cannot bare to remove. If I turn my back onto the mistakes I have made, the gaze of those who follow me will only make me remember. It is of no use trying to evade it- though my knees buckle under the imaginary gazes, I slowly force myself through my morning rituals. Simply facing the light of day is a tremendous challenge that I do not wish to face. The walk to the building was comparable to scaling a mountain. Sweat trickled down my neck despite the cool air, and my hands dampened with sweat no matter how many time I rubbed them against my shirt. The uncaring glances made me cower, and though the urge to turn back and hide under the covers was a sharp tug at my collar, I ignored and pressed on.* Only a street away from the building, I felt the stares. Their stares dug deep into my soul, hooking onto any guilt I had shoved deep down and dragging it up painfully through my throat. My eyes watered as I staggered on. Finally, the building loomed over me, sending another chill down my spine. It had only been a few days, yet what had once been warm and inviting was nothing more then a cold, prison-like cage. The whispers hit me like a strong wind, and I stumbled. "Such horrible mistake." "Can't believe they're so stupid. I should've known." Sighing, I tucked my jacket closer around my body, slouching even further, as if it would protect me from their chilling glares. The room chilled me to the bone. It was hell on earth, but for some reason, I willingly thrust myself into it. Although I knew why I inflicted such painful torture onto myself, I hadn't the heart of facing reality, for I was too cowardly. If I didn't come back, I was a dog without a master. I would've been lost. In the end, I came back with my tail between my legs. I came back, because this is home.
Here's my story, I did this for Nanowrimo 2015, last year... It's supposed to be a sci-fi/ fantasy story. It was originally gonna be a slash, but i changed my mind halfway through, so it has some erotic stuff in it. I'm not shure how to feel about this, the story was so wierd... I wonder what people who know me wpuld think of me if they read it... Anyways, I only got to 8989 words Enjoy though! MICAH LITTLE SYNOPSIS: phineas tyce goes to Mr. Micah little's masnsion on zobah island, Indian ocean for a 1 month vacation. after an assassination attempt by some African witches, Mr little sends phineas out on a journey to destroy their source of power: their children, the seven turais. EXCREPT: (This is from the beginning of the tale, it's in first person, phines tyce is in a taxi, observing the strange country he is in.) " the city was the main cultural centre of the island. Filled with so many statues of their God, saleh hatim, all in gold or bronze. The roads were paved well, and in marble and cobblestone, and sometimes lapis lazuli. The towns people always wore long robes that were loose, but some went naked. Their skin colour was bronze and their body well built. They always had dark hair, but some were redheads or blonde. Their eyes tended to be dark as well. The sky was always clear, but you could see a few clouds here and there. The people were always short less than 4 feet and more than 1. They all looked so studious pass by. Studious but friendly. I loved the feel of zobah. Zobah city, and zobah island. I really did." Tell me what you think of it!
Keep in mind, what I will say is not personal. I do not intend it to offend or hurt. I offer nothing but pure, impartial criticism. That said. The description was good. It paints a clear picture of what the area and people are like. But it was all a little halting. You would describe a small part of something, then stop and move on to the next thing without a new paragraph, or any kind of further description. And there were a couple times where you contradicted yourself. "The sky was always clear, but you could see a few clouds here and there." By definition, if there are any clouds, the sky is not clear. The description of them being "...short less than four feet and more than one 1." Personally, I didn't care for that description. That is a large gap. Three feet, in terms of height, is a large amount for the entire population to vary. Instead, you could try giving an average height of like, two and a half feet. That allows for people to be taller and shorter, without specifying a large range. Or, you could say "The people were short, none above four feet, and most closer to one foot in height." Proper nouns (Zobah, Saleh Hatim) always, always, always need to be capitalized. Saying their hair was always dark, but then describing some as having blonde or red hair also seems like a bit of a contradiction. When I read a description of a people, saying their hair is dark, I picture shades of brown and black. You can have most of them with dark hair, and some with varying shades of other colours, but you can't say they all have dark hair, then. I would have divided the description of the city/weather and the description of the people into two paragraphs. It allows you to expand more on everything, and separates the thoughts in a much more friendly manner. Saying the townspeople always wore long robes, but some went naked is also a contradiction. I find it intriguing. I would be interested in reading more. Props on coming up with the deity name and name of the location. That's always the trickiest bit for me, and the names you have chosen fit the description you've provided perfectly. Overall, I liked it.
Based on some other things and real-life events. It's a bit long for flash fic, but I like it. Spoiler So we all have three people living inside of us. At least, that's what psychologists would have us believe. Not literally, of course. That's Dis-associative Identity Disorder. No, I mean the big three. Ego, Super-Ego, and Id. Our Super-Ego is the part of us that internalizes societal rules. It's our conscience, keeping us in check by battling our desires and actions with guilt, and feeling bad when we are about to do something wrong. Our Ego is the thing that balances the Super-Ego and the Id. It maintains a symbiotic relationship between the two, letting us indulge both when it's appropriate, and giving ups a good blend of the two when it's not. But this is about the last one. The Id. The Id, from a psychological standpoint, is the little voice in our brain that whispers to us to do whatever we want, fuck the rules, fuck everyone else. In movies and cartoons, it's the little devil on your shoulder, whispering to you to commit the crime, or sneak that last cookie. Now, for most people these three are rarely, if ever, thought about. Generally speaking, our Ego keeps the Id and the S.E. in line, and there's never cause for worry. But sometimes, the Id is just a little too strong. I found my Id when I was in high school. I act, and have developed several characters for different occasions or events. No big deal, everyone has one or two. I've got like, four or five people banging around up there from time to time. God, that makes me sound crazy, doesn't it? I'm not. It's not like I lose control of them. I always maintain cognitive thought, and am in perfect control of my actions and words. Well. Usually. See, in high school, I thought it would be funny to develop a cartoonish Russian character. I do a terribly racist, stereotyped Russian accent, the type associated with big fat smelly men. I named this character 'Ivan,' or "Vanya," to his friends. He's a butcher, and is wildly inappropriate. I don't use him often, because I sometimes get a little caught up in the character. I've said horribly suggestive things to people, of all sorts. I should mention, I'm straight. No attraction to men at all! But Vanya, he doesn't have that problem. He'll accept all applicants. So, as Vanya, I've flirted with women, men, old women, old men, everyone. I had my first same-sex kiss as Vanya. I slowly began to realize, as Vanya came out more and more, that he was the personification of my Id. He did whatever he wanted, said what he wanted, and through him I could do and say things that I would normally never do or say. Like kissing a guy. Or sleeping with that guy. Eventually, I trained my brain to keep Vanya put away in a little room. He would sit and read a book, and would come out when I needed him. No biggie, everything under control. And then there was Patsy. My senior year of high school, I worked at a Halloween fair. It was essentially a haunted carnival, you know. Zombies, clowns, rusty carnival rides, the usual. I was cast as a clown. So, every weekend in October, I would get all painted up and spend the next eight hours literally scaring the piss out of people as a clown. His name is Patsy, and let me tell you-he does not. Give. A. Fuck. While Vanya would flirt, and make the girls and guys blush and laugh, Patsy said truly horrid things. He has no filter, he swears, he demeans, he does everything horrible you can think of. To him, the world exists purely to give him pleasure. It's through Patsy that I slept with guys number 2-8. And girls number 3-12. Things were getting a little out of hand. So, I decided to put Patsy away. But, clowns don't like to be controlled. He would burst out at terrible times. If I was at work, and I saw a pretty girl, suddenly there's Patsy, asking her if she wants to watch porn on my flat screen mirror. He got me in a lot of trouble. Just putting him in a room wasn't enough. I trained my brain diligently. Eventually, I found out that he didn't like being put in a room by himself. However, with his fucked up sense of humor, he did like to sleep in one of those Jack-In-A-Box things. So, when I needed to put him away, I would send him there and he would begrudgingly go. For a while. And then he didn't want to be put away anymore. So, I had to add chains and locks to his little box. It kept him contained, for the most part. He's there if I need him. Like, if I get scared at home alone, Patsy will come out. He will fuck shit up. There was one time, a guy was trying to break into my apartment. I brought Patsy out. Instead of getting violent, Patsy decided the best course of action was to just sit, stare at a wall, and laugh. No words. Just laughing his terrible, high pitched laugh. The guy got in, took one look at what was going on, and left. Another time, I got jumped walking home from work. Dude had a gun. I brought Patsy out. He literally kicked that guy until shit exited his body. Patsy is my Id. He protects me, and keeps me safe. And when I don't need him, I lock him up in his box with chains, and a padlock. But sometimes, that isn't enough. He's crafty, that clown. I discovered that when I killed someone for the first time.
Doug I'm fangirliiinnnnng omgggggg can't stop myself that was so goooooood. I just sat there, fangirling, for 30 secs. That was so good omg! Loved every second of it. It wasn't like your normal writing style-this one was more everyday, laid back. Something like a thought process. An interesting turn from your normal writing style, and you did it amazingly well. The laid back pace contrasted amazingly with the fucked up-ness of the entire story. Also, the characters were very well made. How they differed from the 'main' personality, and how the character was so immersed into the different characters he was playing. Although, due to that, I found myself thinking and placing another character altogether into the scene. For example, when Patsy was scaring the shit outta the burglar, instead of thinking of the main character, I found myself thinking of Patsy- clown costume and all. That's one part I'm not fond of. Maybe it's because there isn't any BG on the main, so the sides all take the main role. One more thing I would like to see more- Ivan! He seemed more of a prelude to Patsy, but hes also a pretty interesting character who frankly deserves to get slapped sometimes. But that's also what makes it interesting! XD In the end, everything was amazing. Especially the drop-shock ending. That was greeeat loved it so much.
Not exactly. With Dis-associative Identity Disorder, a person will have multiple personalities that are within their brain, usually caused by a trauma that made their brain either split into different personalities to deal with it, or a physical trauma that caused damage. Generally speaking, when a person experiences a D.I.D. episode, wherein a different 'personality' takes over, they don't have any memory of it. They'll have a blackout, or something similar, and when they come to will have no recollection of where they have been or what they have done while that personality was in control. With this character, he was able to summon Patsy or Vanya at will, and was fully aware the entire time of what was going on. Makes it a little more fucked up.
Spoiler This is for Mr. Green. One More Day I woke up today. Of course I did, had to, didn't I? No other choice. School and whatever. I dragged myself away from the warmth and comfort of my bed, wanting nothing more than to lay back down and waste away. Mom ignored me when I said 'Good Morning.' Nothing new there, she never wanted me anyway. Finished up my routine; shower, binder in secret, breakfast, dodge invasive questions from dad, and finish the homework I couldn't do last night. Not that I'm any better at it today. But now I don't have a choice. I go to the corner and wait for the bus. After a while, the other kids show up, laughing at me and mocking me. They don't say anything directly to me, but I can hear them talking about me. I put my hood up, ear buds pressed in deep, almost touching my brain. The bus ride is more of the same. No one sits next to me, so I have a space for my backpack. But I can hear them talking about me, laughing at me. It hurts, but I don't have any tears left. Arrive at school, go sit with 'friends.' I call them friends. Really, they just kind of tolerate me. I'm out to a couple of them, and they know my name. My REAL name, not the stupid, girly one my parents gave me. Of course, they don't use it. Why would they, it's not like they care enough to remember. The day drags on slowly, chipping away at my fortitude, every minute bringing me closer to breaking down. I just need to hold on just wait for it... The last bell. Finally. I climb on the bus, ignoring everyone as best I can. More laughter. More painful words. Home is the same. I can feel mom and dad's glances, hear their whispers. They pretend to care about how my day is. Eventually, they stop trying to get information and let me just go to my room. Laying on my bed, lights off, watching the room grow steadily darker around me. I check my phone-nothing new here. I pull myself up. It's numb inside. There's nothing there anymore-not happy, or sad, or angry or anything. I just want to feel, to know that I can. I take out the knife again. But I've learned my lessons. I go to the bathroom, making sure no one hears or sees me. I pull of my shirt, and the sight of what lays underneath sickens me. I vomit once or twice, quietly-quietly. Once I'm done, I straighten up. I make the cuts, quickly, not too deep, on my biceps. Tee-shirts are enough to cover them, and I never wear anything with shorter sleeves. The sting hurts, but at the same time is comforting. I can feel. I look at my thighs, contemplating. I could do it. All it would take is one cut, five minutes, and it'll all be over... I place the sharp edge against my leg. My phone vibrates. Sighing, I clean myself up and go back to my room. It's Beth. She wants to know if I'm okay. I can't take it. The fact that even just one person wants to actually know if I'm okay pushes me over the edge, forces the tears to come. I breakdown in my room, leaning against the wall, shoulders heaving. I call her, and tell her everything. For her, I will survive. At least one more day. --------------------------------------------- Danny woke, and right away knew it was going to be one of THOSE days. Dragging himself out of bed, he forced himself into the hall to start his day. "Morning." He muttered to his mom as he passed. She was on the phone already at this early hour, trying to negotiate with the credit card companies. "Good morning, sweetie!" She called too late. Dan was already in the bathroom, and never herd her. He looked at himself in the mirror, despising his body. He knew it was wrong, all of it. But for now, there was nothing that could really be done. Not yet. He took a shower and hurried to his room, quickly putting on his binder. His aunt had purchased it for him, because he had been too embarrassed and ashamed to ask his parents. She had talked to them about it first. They knew that Dan was trans, and they had no problem with it. But they also understood that it was probably awkward for him to talk about with them. So, they had supplied Aunt Carolyn with the money, and she had bought Dan his first binder. Danny arrived at the bus stop before everyone, as usual. The other kids were mostly younger than him, though there were a couple students in his grade. They walked up, talking about last night's episode of 'Family Guy,' laughing at whatever stupid scenario had been portrayed. Dan, having his ear-buds in, could hear none of this, save for the raucous laughter that assaulted his ears. He pressed the small headphones deeper in, and turned up his music. He didn't hear them calling his name, asking if he had seen the episode. He didn't see the look of concern on their faces. He sat by himself on the bus, putting his pack on the seat next to him quickly. The others were forced to sit around him, talking and casting him confused looks. They were worried. He was a nice guy, and they didn't understand why he was like this some days. At school, Danny went to his usual table with his usual friends. He had come out to them as trans a week or two ago, and a couple of them were still having troubles remembering his new pronouns and name. "Hey Brit-Dan! Sorry, it's Monday." His friend Megan slipped up, almost using his given name, 'Brittney.' This only served to push his further in a downward spiral, and he said nothing to the rest of them as he sat and played a game on his phone. "Hey, Dan, what're you up to after school today? D'you wanna go grab a slice," Beth, his best friend since forever, asked. She was concerned for Dan. She knew he struggled with depression, and could tell that today was especially bad. Dan didn't reply, but instead shuffled off to the bathroom, ignoring the stares of some of his more douchey classmates. Beth watched him enter the men's room, the worry written across her features. The day progressed slowly for Dan, and he barely paid attention to what his teachers were saying. His parents had talked to the principal, who had in turned talked to his teachers. Not the entire staff, mind you. Just the ones who directly interacted with Dan. They, too, watched him throughout the day. The same concern, the same worry, the same sadness that they could do nothing more than observe. But Danny saw none of this. He kept his head down, ear-buds in. The world continued on around him, and he slowly moved through it. The end of the day came, and saw Dan continue back home. His mom and dad asked him how his day was going, how his classes were, if he had much homework. Dan got irritated very quickly, and they could tell he didn't want to be around them. They dropped the subject, letting him to up to his room without dinner. Many hours later, when he thought no one could hear him, Dan went into the bathroom. His sister hears him, though, and sends a quick text to their parents and Beth. Her message is answered quickly, and Beth immediately texts Dan, asking him how he is. At this, Dan breaks down. His family knows better by now than to attempt to talk to him in this state. But they all listen, waiting patiently. Once he calms down, he'll need them. And they'll be there in a flash. They all work together, supporting him, giving him unconditional love. They don't know what goes on in his head. They don't know his struggle. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they keep him going. At least one more day. Again, a bit long for flash...sorry/not sorry.
