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Mar 11, 2014 01:52PM
My writing! Critique is welcome!
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Fine memories
We'll walk on the sand
Till our feet turn numb
And swim in the sun
Till our hearts roar like a wave
We'll gather sea shells to save
Like fine memories
Worries will be washed away in the waves
And carried out to sea
Leaving only
Fine memories
Our burdened hearts will be no more
Like the dinosaurs that once walked here But walk no more
Saving only
Fine memories
Let the story's we hear here be kept in our hearts
Becoming fine memories
We'll walk on the sand
Till our feet turn numb
And swim in the sun
Till our hearts roar like a wave
We'll gather sea shells to save
Like fine memories
Worries will be washed away in the waves
And carried out to sea
Leaving only
Fine memories
Our burdened hearts will be no more
Like the dinosaurs that once walked here But walk no more
Saving only
Fine memories
Let the story's we hear here be kept in our hearts
Becoming fine memories
This is a snippet from a story I may or may not write
d love to tell you this story has a happy ending. That the two main characters go prancing around the castle grounds holding hands and singing kumbaya or one of them other happy go lucky songs. I hate to disappoint, really I do, but I live in Colorado. The closest thing we have to a castle is the armory in downtown golden. And I cant sing. And I sure as heck ain't holding anyones hand.
So if your looking for a happy ending with sunsets and unicorns or singing lovebirds, then go and read Love at last, or medieval castles or one of them other books, cause this one wont do nothing for you. But if you want to read a book about fights to the death, and murder and all that stuff, then do yourself a favor and see your school counselor. Then keep reading. Your going to like what you see.
d love to tell you this story has a happy ending. That the two main characters go prancing around the castle grounds holding hands and singing kumbaya or one of them other happy go lucky songs. I hate to disappoint, really I do, but I live in Colorado. The closest thing we have to a castle is the armory in downtown golden. And I cant sing. And I sure as heck ain't holding anyones hand.
So if your looking for a happy ending with sunsets and unicorns or singing lovebirds, then go and read Love at last, or medieval castles or one of them other books, cause this one wont do nothing for you. But if you want to read a book about fights to the death, and murder and all that stuff, then do yourself a favor and see your school counselor. Then keep reading. Your going to like what you see.
TMI fanfic I wrote
Izzy saw the blood first. By the angel, no. Not Alec. She didn't remember deciding to scream, but she did anyway. She went numb. Hearing, seeing, FEELING nothing. She lost one brother. She couldn't loose the other.
Stabbed. Of all the ways he could die, stabbed. He heard Izzy scream. He didn't feel the sword enter his chest. Only the air rushing around him as he fell to his knees. He could feel the hard ground beneath him growing damp with his blood. Alec gasped.
Sebastian stood above, a black sword glistening with his blood. Alec tried to glare at him, but he could summon no strength.
Jace ran to him. Too late. He was too late. He feel to his knees, the rune on his chest burning like heavenly fire- and he would know- and he knew time was short. Max, now Alec. Jace pulled himself upright, crawling toward Alec.
"Hey." Alec croaked. Blood was trickling from his mouth. Jace felt a hysterical laugh bubble from his mouth. "This sucks, doesn't it?" Jace grabbed Alec's wrist, locking his grip.
"I swear by the angel Alexander, you're not leaving me yet."
"Sorry." Alec coughed. "You'll take care of her, won't you?" Without saying, Jace knew who he meant.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I'll take care of Iz."
"Thank you." The parabati rune on Jace's chest glowed blood red, and pain flowered in his chest. Alec was gone.
Izzy saw the blood first. By the angel, no. Not Alec. She didn't remember deciding to scream, but she did anyway. She went numb. Hearing, seeing, FEELING nothing. She lost one brother. She couldn't loose the other.
Stabbed. Of all the ways he could die, stabbed. He heard Izzy scream. He didn't feel the sword enter his chest. Only the air rushing around him as he fell to his knees. He could feel the hard ground beneath him growing damp with his blood. Alec gasped.
Sebastian stood above, a black sword glistening with his blood. Alec tried to glare at him, but he could summon no strength.
Jace ran to him. Too late. He was too late. He feel to his knees, the rune on his chest burning like heavenly fire- and he would know- and he knew time was short. Max, now Alec. Jace pulled himself upright, crawling toward Alec.
"Hey." Alec croaked. Blood was trickling from his mouth. Jace felt a hysterical laugh bubble from his mouth. "This sucks, doesn't it?" Jace grabbed Alec's wrist, locking his grip.
"I swear by the angel Alexander, you're not leaving me yet."
"Sorry." Alec coughed. "You'll take care of her, won't you?" Without saying, Jace knew who he meant.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I'll take care of Iz."
"Thank you." The parabati rune on Jace's chest glowed blood red, and pain flowered in his chest. Alec was gone.
Prolouge to a story of mine, addressing gun violence
Ten minutes to freedom
Prologue:
The day STARTED normal. There were no ominous black storm clouds. No lightning splitting the sky in half. No organ belting out the well known warning tune.
The day WAS normal, until my sixth hour math class, when the principal sent out the message every school kid fears.
“lockdown”
Ten minutes to freedom
Prologue:
The day STARTED normal. There were no ominous black storm clouds. No lightning splitting the sky in half. No organ belting out the well known warning tune.
The day WAS normal, until my sixth hour math class, when the principal sent out the message every school kid fears.
“lockdown”
Light the torch
Light the torch
Then pass it on
Pass on the fire,
The passion, the light
Kindle new ones with yours
Stand silent no longer
Take action again
And share your burning passion
Light the torch
Then pass it on
Pass on the fire,
The passion, the light
Kindle new ones with yours
Stand silent no longer
Take action again
And share your burning passion
THOSE ARE AMAZING. no critique come to mind yet...btw I love your user name
I really like both of the prologs for stories you wrote!:)
I cant decide which to write though!
Yeah. I think I will wrire that one next. The plot seems better
As requested, chapter one of the first prologue thing
Prolouge- a sad beginning to a distressed book.
Id love to tell you this story has a happy ending. That the two main characters go prancing around the castle grounds holding hands and singing kumbaya or one of them other happy go lucky songs. I hate to disappoint, really I do, but I live in Colorado. The closest thing we have to a castle is the armory in downtown golden. And I cant sing. And I sure as heck ain't holding anyones hand.
So if your looking for a happy ending with sunsets and unicorns or singing lovebirds, then go and read Love at last, or medieval castles or one of them other books, cause this one wont do nothing for you. But if you want to read a book about fights to the death, and murder and all that stuff, then do yourself a favor and see your school counselor. Then keep reading. Your going to like what you see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The black clad man smiled to himself. The girl was so naive. Like her mother. Like the rest of her family. He tightened the little boys handcuffs. He placed the note on the bed and carried the little boy outside.
Do not underestimate us. We find your people trivial. In five days a operative will be waiting by the platte river. He will expect 50,000 dollars cash. You will do exactly as he says. You will come alone. You will have the money. You will not tell the police. Or your family will die
- jaggers
Chapter one
I pulled my headphones off of my head, hanging them around my neck. A chilly Colorado wind skimmed my legs where my jeans were torn. I fit the key into the lock of my families home. The door swung open before I even touched it. Frowning, I stepped inside.
Clutter. Tornados of cloths. That was what I was used to- what I expected- to see as I walked in. What I got was far worse than that.
Utter destruction. Chaos. A detonated bomb. Kendy's high chair had been thrown across the dinning room, it's wood frame shattered along the floor.
The royal purple curtains mom had sewn years ago had been ripped off the window, and were torn into strips, like someone had run a sword through it. Normally white walls had been smeared with blood like someone had placed a bloody hand on it. Cabinets were thrown off their hinges, dishes shattered on the floor. Someone had thrown the couch cushions on the blood stained carpet.
I felt my heart beat through my chest. Panic and pure fear coursed through my veins. I charged up the stairs, to my parents room.
"Mom? Dad? Kendy?" My voice escapes my lips. A empty feeling settles when I realize my parents room is empty. Hope is quickly evading me, running through my fingertips like water.
No. They are here. They have to be here. I run down the hall, entering Kendy's room. 'The nursery' he called it.
"Kendy!" I sob in despair, leaning through his doorframe. My blonde hair is sticking to my face from tears. A breeze whips it back, away from my face. A breeze from Kendy's broken window.
My five year old brother's room is empty. Kendy isn't in his rocket-ship bed, or in his space man suit, playing Mars landing in the closet. The shelf holding all of Kendy's model space shuttles is knocked off the wall, many of the models broken.
I sink to my knees, sweeping all the pieces I can into a pile. Maybe by putting the models back together, I can bring my family back. There is one last piece, under Kendy's bed. I crawl to get it, stretching as far as I can. My hand closes over it, and I bring the piece out. I lean back on my knees, and somewhere in the back of my brain, I know I should be crying. I gently set the model pieces on the bed, and something catches my eye.
A paper. The writing is to neat to be Kendy's. I leap at it, hungrily devouring it for any news about my family.
Do not underestimate us. We find your people trivial. In five days a operative will be waiting by the Platte river. He will expect 50,000 dollars cash. You will do exactly as he says. You will come alone. You will have the money. You will not tell the police. Or your family will die.
- the Jaggers.
A ransom. A warning. A threat. I don't have fifty grand. Heck, I don't even have fifty cents.
Something new replaces the fear. A fire. A ragging flame. A need, a want.
Every move I make is decisive. My logic is gone. All I know is I will find out who the Jaggers are. I will find them, and I will kill every one of them, until my family is back, until Kendy is sleeping safe in his bed again.
I roll the paper up, shoving it into my pocket. I open my backpack, dumping it's contents onto the floor. School books and essays worth half my grade are thrown into the trash.
I turn into my room, grabbing my phone charger, cloths, and the secret stash of candy I had stolen from Kendy's trick-or-treat goodies (as a payment for taking him with me, of course). I swing the bag over my shoulders, ready to run.
As I pass Kendy's room, something inside me changes, just for a second. I grab the only intact model left, and shove it in my bag. A reminder, I decide, of what I have to fight for.
Prolouge- a sad beginning to a distressed book.
Id love to tell you this story has a happy ending. That the two main characters go prancing around the castle grounds holding hands and singing kumbaya or one of them other happy go lucky songs. I hate to disappoint, really I do, but I live in Colorado. The closest thing we have to a castle is the armory in downtown golden. And I cant sing. And I sure as heck ain't holding anyones hand.
So if your looking for a happy ending with sunsets and unicorns or singing lovebirds, then go and read Love at last, or medieval castles or one of them other books, cause this one wont do nothing for you. But if you want to read a book about fights to the death, and murder and all that stuff, then do yourself a favor and see your school counselor. Then keep reading. Your going to like what you see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The black clad man smiled to himself. The girl was so naive. Like her mother. Like the rest of her family. He tightened the little boys handcuffs. He placed the note on the bed and carried the little boy outside.
Do not underestimate us. We find your people trivial. In five days a operative will be waiting by the platte river. He will expect 50,000 dollars cash. You will do exactly as he says. You will come alone. You will have the money. You will not tell the police. Or your family will die
- jaggers
Chapter one
I pulled my headphones off of my head, hanging them around my neck. A chilly Colorado wind skimmed my legs where my jeans were torn. I fit the key into the lock of my families home. The door swung open before I even touched it. Frowning, I stepped inside.
Clutter. Tornados of cloths. That was what I was used to- what I expected- to see as I walked in. What I got was far worse than that.
Utter destruction. Chaos. A detonated bomb. Kendy's high chair had been thrown across the dinning room, it's wood frame shattered along the floor.
The royal purple curtains mom had sewn years ago had been ripped off the window, and were torn into strips, like someone had run a sword through it. Normally white walls had been smeared with blood like someone had placed a bloody hand on it. Cabinets were thrown off their hinges, dishes shattered on the floor. Someone had thrown the couch cushions on the blood stained carpet.
I felt my heart beat through my chest. Panic and pure fear coursed through my veins. I charged up the stairs, to my parents room.
"Mom? Dad? Kendy?" My voice escapes my lips. A empty feeling settles when I realize my parents room is empty. Hope is quickly evading me, running through my fingertips like water.
No. They are here. They have to be here. I run down the hall, entering Kendy's room. 'The nursery' he called it.
"Kendy!" I sob in despair, leaning through his doorframe. My blonde hair is sticking to my face from tears. A breeze whips it back, away from my face. A breeze from Kendy's broken window.
My five year old brother's room is empty. Kendy isn't in his rocket-ship bed, or in his space man suit, playing Mars landing in the closet. The shelf holding all of Kendy's model space shuttles is knocked off the wall, many of the models broken.
I sink to my knees, sweeping all the pieces I can into a pile. Maybe by putting the models back together, I can bring my family back. There is one last piece, under Kendy's bed. I crawl to get it, stretching as far as I can. My hand closes over it, and I bring the piece out. I lean back on my knees, and somewhere in the back of my brain, I know I should be crying. I gently set the model pieces on the bed, and something catches my eye.
A paper. The writing is to neat to be Kendy's. I leap at it, hungrily devouring it for any news about my family.
Do not underestimate us. We find your people trivial. In five days a operative will be waiting by the Platte river. He will expect 50,000 dollars cash. You will do exactly as he says. You will come alone. You will have the money. You will not tell the police. Or your family will die.
- the Jaggers.
A ransom. A warning. A threat. I don't have fifty grand. Heck, I don't even have fifty cents.
Something new replaces the fear. A fire. A ragging flame. A need, a want.
Every move I make is decisive. My logic is gone. All I know is I will find out who the Jaggers are. I will find them, and I will kill every one of them, until my family is back, until Kendy is sleeping safe in his bed again.
I roll the paper up, shoving it into my pocket. I open my backpack, dumping it's contents onto the floor. School books and essays worth half my grade are thrown into the trash.
I turn into my room, grabbing my phone charger, cloths, and the secret stash of candy I had stolen from Kendy's trick-or-treat goodies (as a payment for taking him with me, of course). I swing the bag over my shoulders, ready to run.
As I pass Kendy's room, something inside me changes, just for a second. I grab the only intact model left, and shove it in my bag. A reminder, I decide, of what I have to fight for.
Omg I love it. It's sosososo perfect. I love it it's awesome.
Aww, thanks to all of you!
Chapter two
Chapter two
The park is empty, unusual at five PM on a Friday. I sit on a swing, letting the mountain breeze push me slightly as I dial a number on my phone. Coy is the only person who I know can keep this a secret.
Coy is my best friend. He looks like the kind of boy you would find on a Miami beach, surfing the waves, instead of walking the streets of a Colorado town.
"Trisha?" He picks up after the second ring.
"Coy. I need you to come to the park. Right now." I can't hide the urgency in my voice.
"Trisha, is everything ok?" Coy seems concerned. I'm not the one he needs to be concerned about.
"Just come to the park, ok?" My voice is about to break, so I click the end button, and Coy's voice disappears. My wind breaker snaps against my back, and the cold Colorado wind stings my face.
The swing rocks steadily in the wind. Kendy loved-no LOVES- the swing. A plan. I need a plan.
I'm not a good planner. My plan came to be 1) find the Jaggers 2) improvise. A lot. I don't know anything about the Jaggers. Finding them, and finding out who they are is step one.
I hear the tell-tale crunch of gravel, and labored breathing. Someone is coming. I brace myself, not knowing who was coming. I clenched my fists, tensing my legs to run.
Coy appears in front of me, pushing his cropped blonde hair back.
"Latrisha, Trisha, what the heck is going on?" Coy grabs my wrist, demanding to know more about my predicament. That's when I became paranoid.
What if they had me bugged? What if Coy was in cahoots with them? Could I trust anyone? Could I ever be the same?
I look around wildly, and wonder if I am going crazy. I jump off the swing, running to a picnic table. Coy follows, probably wondering if I'm off my rocker. I run my hand under the table, checking for any listening devices.
Coy slides across from me, waiting patiently for me to finish. I decide we are safe, and pull the Jaggers note out of my pocket. Coy took it from me, spreading it out on the table. Slowly he reads it, and looks up at me.
"They aren't at home, are they." He asks.
Chapter two
The park is empty, unusual at five PM on a Friday. I sit on a swing, letting the mountain breeze push me slightly as I dial a number on my phone. Coy is the only person who I know can keep this a secret.
Coy is my best friend. He looks like the kind of boy you would find on a Miami beach, surfing the waves, instead of walking the streets of a Colorado town.
"Trisha?" He picks up after the second ring.
"Coy. I need you to come to the park. Right now." I can't hide the urgency in my voice.
"Trisha, is everything ok?" Coy seems concerned. I'm not the one he needs to be concerned about.
"Just come to the park, ok?" My voice is about to break, so I click the end button, and Coy's voice disappears. My wind breaker snaps against my back, and the cold Colorado wind stings my face.
The swing rocks steadily in the wind. Kendy loved-no LOVES- the swing. A plan. I need a plan.
I'm not a good planner. My plan came to be 1) find the Jaggers 2) improvise. A lot. I don't know anything about the Jaggers. Finding them, and finding out who they are is step one.
I hear the tell-tale crunch of gravel, and labored breathing. Someone is coming. I brace myself, not knowing who was coming. I clenched my fists, tensing my legs to run.
Coy appears in front of me, pushing his cropped blonde hair back.
"Latrisha, Trisha, what the heck is going on?" Coy grabs my wrist, demanding to know more about my predicament. That's when I became paranoid.
What if they had me bugged? What if Coy was in cahoots with them? Could I trust anyone? Could I ever be the same?
I look around wildly, and wonder if I am going crazy. I jump off the swing, running to a picnic table. Coy follows, probably wondering if I'm off my rocker. I run my hand under the table, checking for any listening devices.
Coy slides across from me, waiting patiently for me to finish. I decide we are safe, and pull the Jaggers note out of my pocket. Coy took it from me, spreading it out on the table. Slowly he reads it, and looks up at me.
"They aren't at home, are they." He asks.
I wrote this song in memory of an event/charecter "development" from James Dashner's the death cure
Insane
I saw the look on your face
When you asked me to stay
Couldn't leave me behind
Couldn't bear to separate
But I pushed you away
From my darkest of days
Slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
I put a note in your hand
Put my life in it too
Begging for another way
Than slowly going insane
after all we've been through
I knew I could trust you
You'd understand there's a better way
Than slowly going insane
When I saw you on the street
I couldn't recognize you
But you recognized me
With tears in my eyes, Begging please
I pushed you away
From my darkest of days
Slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
I knew you'd understand
That there's a better way
Than slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
Your sweet sacrifice
My only escape
A gun in your hand
A bullet in my brain
I didn't recognize you
But you recognized me
Insane
I saw the look on your face
When you asked me to stay
Couldn't leave me behind
Couldn't bear to separate
But I pushed you away
From my darkest of days
Slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
I put a note in your hand
Put my life in it too
Begging for another way
Than slowly going insane
after all we've been through
I knew I could trust you
You'd understand there's a better way
Than slowly going insane
When I saw you on the street
I couldn't recognize you
But you recognized me
With tears in my eyes, Begging please
I pushed you away
From my darkest of days
Slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
I knew you'd understand
That there's a better way
Than slowly going insane
Slowly going insane
Your sweet sacrifice
My only escape
A gun in your hand
A bullet in my brain
I didn't recognize you
But you recognized me
