Young Writers discussion

Post scenes where people punch each other in the face and stuff. Or it could be verbal fights. I don't care.

I have a verbal fight from The 2010 NaNo With the Ever-Changing Title I should post here, but all my writing is on my laptop :/
I'll have to copy some of them over this evening.

I'm not sure where to post a random scene I wrote the other day. It involves fighting, kissing, and also death. XD Hrmph. I should edit it first, though.

OOOH. Do post! =)

Post it in all three topics!

This isn't exactly a fight, but it seemed the best fitting topic to put it under. Maybe torture scenes would work too... oh well.


“I think my dad has an old Boston record somewhere,” Alan tells me after I’m finished obsessing over the old band I just discovered. He says it like it’s no big deal and continues eating his celery and Sun Chips. I slowly shove my Snickers bar to the back of my lunch sack. I’m not in the mood for a health lecture. . “You could come over after school and we could listen to it. If you want.”

“Alan,” I say grabbing his arm. “You have a freaking record player? Since when do you have a record player? Holy crap, you really have a record player?”

He glances at me like I’m somewhat crazy but he smiles that giant smile of his and nods, slipping his arm around my shoulders. Obviously it’s not that important to him, so I stifle the squeal threatening to escape and pretend to be amused by his friends’ stupid chatter. And I can’t help but entertain the thought of Hayden and how he’d be just as excited as I was.

Gah. No. I can’t let him back into my head. It’s over. It’s over and I need to move on. I have Alan, who tells me I’m pretty and makes me laugh. And I’m happy. I am. Alan is… amazing.

The bell rings and Alan looks at me, and I know he’s wanting a goodbye kiss, but I just hug him because my brain can’t handle anything more than that at this point. And he knows that. He knows that, because I’ve explained it to him at least fifty times and every time he says he understands.

So he shouldn’t be pouting like some stupid little girl because all I did was hug him. I really like Alan, but sometimes he smothers me and I really can’t take that.

We don’t talk on our way out, and I think he’s mad, until he says, “Are you coming?”

“Course,” I tell him, still super excited. Let him think I’m excited about hanging out with him even more and not the record player.

School drags by so slowly and the affect of no music during school is bothering me a lot more than it normally does, as it’s coupled with anticipation. But it finally ends, as all things end sometime, and I rush to my locker and quickly cram all my books into my backpack, ready to go to Alan’s.

I inevitably pass Hayden in the hallway but I force myself to look away from the back of his head. I force myself not to think about the way his hair feels. I force myself not to think about the way I felt so safe in his arms. I force myself not to think about his lips pressed to mine and… and then I’m walking as fast as I can so I don’t tackle him. That probably wouldn’t go over well with Anna. Or Hayden, for that matter.
The feelings are quickly buried when I step outside and Alan’s arms sneak up on me and he captures me, wrapping them around my waist. He smells good. So I tell him that. He laughs and squeezes tighter. I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go, so I just let him stay like that as we walk to his car.

He won’t turn on the radio so we just talk on the way to his place. We don’t talk about much. Typical boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, I guess. What our plans for the future are (he wants to be a personal trainer and I want to be a psychologist) , what we like most about each other’s looks (I like his eyes and he likes my lips) and by my suggestion what we like most about each other’s personalities (he makes me laugh and apparently he’s always happy around me) and then we talk about music even though he doesn’t get quite as passionate about it as I do.

But as soon as he pulls into his driveway I fling open the door and run inside, not able to wait another second. I need to see that record. I’ve always liked vintage stuff. Vintage music? Yeah, it’s basically the most awesome thing in the world.

He follows me up to his room and tells me he’ll be right back with the record, because it’s with his dad’s stuff. I sit down on his bed, leaning against the mountain of pillows he has built up at the head of his bed. His room is oddly clean. Nothing on the floor, everything on his shelves, clothes actually in the clothes basket. No posters on the wall, and all his CDs are on a rack. I wonder if he cleaned it himself, or if his mom does it for him. And then I realize. There’s no record player in his room. You can’t play a record without a record player.

“Dork,” I say when he walks back in. “You can’t play a record without a…” But he’s not holding a record either.

He sits down on the other side of the bed and looks at me and for some reason I start shivering. “Are you cold?” he asks and when I nod he scoots closer and tries to wrap his arms around me again. But I’ve had enough of that for one day and I push his arms off.

“Don’t touch me,” I snap.

But he just gets closer. “Calm down, Alice,” he whispers. “I just want to hug you. You’re cold. And besides, you like my hugs.”

I scoot over on the bed and frown. “Right now I like my space.”

He ignores me and brushes my thigh with his hand. “Have I ever told you I think you’re pretty?”

“Where’s the Boston record?” I ask him, nervously.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead he grabs my shoulders and kisses my forehead, leaving his face dangerously close to mine. I can feel his hot breath on my skin and my heart starts to pound. I shove him as hard as I can and roll off the bed.

But before I can stand up, he’s on top of me, pressing me down into the ground so hard I can feel the carpet rubbing against my bare skin and I try to scream but his lips are smashing up against mine and I can’t make any sound come out and I can barely even breathe and the way our first kiss happens doesn’t feel like love at all.

He takes a break and I turn my head away, still trying to get up, but he just grabs my head and pulls it back to where he can kiss me again and again and then he’s touching me and I don’t like it but he won’t stop.

Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Please. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to do this. Stop. Stop. No. You’re hurting me. Alan, you’re hurting me. Please. Please, Alan, stop. I don’t want to do this. Don’t touch me… don’t you dare touch me… not like that…

And he does leave me alone. He does stop. After he has what he wanted.

Lav [where was I when the rockets came to life] wrote: "This isn't exactly a fight, but it seemed the best fitting topic to put it under. Maybe torture scenes would work too... oh well.


“I think my dad has an old Boston record somewhere,” Alan tells ..."

Whoa … intense. It's awesome.
Although yeahhh, not exactly a fight or torture … just abuse, really. Maybe we should have a topic for that, too. :P

Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I said, I'm fine.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No!” The stall door banged open, and you stumbled out. “Really, I'm okay,” you said, straightening. “I'm … tired, I guess.”

Without looking at me, you rushed to the sink and put your purse down next to you. The faucet turned on automatically when you waved your hand under it, hissing out a stream of water.

While you washed your hands, I leaned in close to the mirror and saw that my eyeliner had smudged on one side. “Sh**.” I grabbed a paper towel and tried to wipe it off, but it only made it worse. “Emily, do you have some extra eyeliner or something?” I picked up your purse, opening it.

“Don't––” You grabbed my arm.

Startled, I looked up at you. Suddenly, your eyes were wide, your pupils small. You loosened your grip. “I mean––I mean no, I don't have …”

“What is it?” I said.

“What's … what?”

“What's … ?” I reached into the purse … and pulled out an empty flask. “Emily? What the hell is this?”

“It's nothing.” You snatched the tiny bottle from me, turned it over in your hands. “I … My mom borrowed this purse last week. Must be hers.”

“Yeah? Then why are you freaking out?”

“I'm not freaking out!”

“You look like you're about to puke.”

You stared down into the sink, watching the last of the water go down the drain. “I … Fine. Fine, Mia. It's mine. So what?” The edge in your voice felt like a blade plunging into my stomach.

I swallowed. “You've been drinking?”

You looked up at me, forced a laugh. “Mia, it's not like this is news. I mean, you were there that time … in my basement.”

That had been months ago, by now. My stomach churned at the memory. The day afterward had been hell––fireworks of pain bursting in my head, a stormy ocean sloshing back and forth in my guts. Since then, I'd never felt compelled to drink again.

“Yeah, but that––that was one time,” I stammered.

“So you thought that was the one and only time?” You shook your head. “Mia, come on. We're not in fourth grade anymore. Grow up.” You turned around, taking a fistful of paper towels and drying your hands furiously.

Rage and hurt battled inside of me. “What's that supposed to mean?” I said. “Are you really going to give me all that 'everybody does it' crap?”

You crumpled the paper towel you were holding. “Jesus Christ, Mia. It's not like I'm a f***ing alcoholic!”

“Well … You're hiding alcohol in your purse. Drinking secretly in the bathroom.”

You stuffed the paper towels into the trash can. “It's none of your business.”

“It's none of my business?” Now my voice was rising, beyond my control. I could hear the words fighting their way out, as if they had minds of their own. “Emily, you're my best friend. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. I'm not going to sit here and watch while you become like your mom!”

I barely saw your hand fly towards me, but a second after it happened, I felt the sting of the slap settle in. It was somewhat damp, and it felt like tiny needles piercing the skin.

“Don't you dare! Don't ever compare me to her!”

Your voice was unlike anything I'd ever heard––like a demon had possessed you and was screaming at me through your mouth. The demon was in your eyes, too, burning inside the blackness.

I tried to find the words, tried to apologize, tried to say anything … but there was nothing. I could only stare at you, feeling my blood turn to ice. I couldn't even touch the spot where you had hit me, because I didn't dare to acknowledge that it still hurt.

There was no sound but the opera music blaring overhead, a voice carrying a ringing note that refused to end.

Then the door opened, shattering the moment, and a woman stepped inside. She glanced at us for a second, and then scurried into one of the stalls.

You sighed, closing your eyes. “God, Mia … I'm sorry. I don't know what … Let's just go back. Finish eating dinner.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay.” The burn in the side of my face was already starting to fade, leaving only the faint tingling behind.

We left the bathroom, the ethereal music following us on our way out.

We went back to eating like civilized people, and we never spoke about that incident again.

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I said, I'm fine.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No!” The st..."

Nice. *nod* I really enjoyed that and your style of writing is very interesting.

Lav [where was I when the rockets came to life] wrote: "This isn't exactly a fight, but it seemed the best fitting topic to put it under. Maybe torture scenes would work too... oh well.


“I think my dad has an old Boston record somewhere,” Alan tells ..."

Lav, I love how you can write this kind of thing so well.

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I said, I'm fine.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No!” The st..."

Ooh, I love it. I enjoy your style.

Thanks, people. I'm glad I'm so stylish.

Lav [where was I when the rockets came to life] wrote: "This isn't exactly a fight, but it seemed the best fitting topic to put it under. Maybe torture scenes would work too... oh well.


“I think my dad has an old Boston record somewhere,” Alan tells ..."

Mmhm. Very good.

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I said, I'm fine.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No!” The st..."

Nice!

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Thanks, people. I'm glad I'm so stylish."

You are indeed very stylish.

Sorry for the lengthiness :) this is from The Rain Runner


"You sure about this?"

Raine sighed. "Jett, you don't get it. This is my mom. My real, biological mom."

"The real, biological mom who put you up for adoption," Jett said.

"I just want to talk to her."

"I'm just trying to warn you tha-"

"I can take care of myself," Raine snapped. She opened the car door and ignored the further protests of Jett.

The house was old styled, one of those houses that was made as the city was being built a hundred years ago. It was a fading red color with white trim. There was a small patch of green grass and a white picket fence separating the sidewalk from the steps, separating Raine from the place that could have been her home.

She walked from the car to the front door, counting each step. 19 steps away was Jett. One more was her mom.  Ignoring the voice in her head saying Jett could be right, she took the heavy brass handle, slippery from the rain, and gave it three quick knocks.

The door opened, and Raine immediately recognized the woman who opened the door as her mom. The woman--her mom-- had the same dark hair, light eyes, the same confused look on her face that Raine often wore during math class.

Raine had prepared herself for this moment for years, for the moment when she would finally be face-to-face with her mom. Yet nothing Raine did, from planning her first words to practicing remaining calm (something she was quite good at) could stop the rush of emotions let loose after being bottled up for 17 years.

She burst into tears before she could stop herself and cried, "Why in the world would you ever name me Raine?"

Her mom didn't answer. Her mouth was half open in complete shock, as if she had forgotten Raine had ever existed at all. Sometimes, she would close her mouth and open it again to say something, but no words came and she ended up looking a lot like a fish out of water.

Raine continued to blubber until her mom said, "You were never supposed to find me."

"But I'm here, Mom. I'm here anyway," Raine said with a much clarity as she could.

"Mom? Who's that?" a boy around ten years old appeared in the hallway behind the door her mom was standing in. He had dark hair too.

"No one, honey. Go play with your sister," her mom said.

Raine stated, "I have a little brother and sister." And they dont know I exist.

"For Christ's sake, did you expect me to be waiting for you to show up here? What, did ou expect us to drink tea and talk for hours and it would be like I never gave you away at all? 'Cause that's the thing, Raine,  I gave you away!" she hissed.

"B-but you're my mom. You're, you're supposed-"

"You are no daughter of mine. You never were and you never will be," she said, closing the door, but Raine stuck her foot out before the door could close all the way.

"At least answer my question. Please, mo--ma'am," Raine begged.

She hesitated, but then opened the door wider and told Raine, "I knew you would be exactly like my sister, cursed. And the first sight I saw when I looked out the window was the pouring rain. I hated the rain, after all the trouble it had caused my family. So I made sure the nurse would have you named that. You were the rain in my life, the bringer of cold and storms and everything else bad. I named you Raine because I knew you would ruin my life."

Raine cried harder and spluttered, "You couldn't love me even as a baby? That's a terrible thing to say. I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU!" Raine was screaming through her tears, trying desperately to understand the woman who looked so much like her, but she was unable to find any other similarities.

Her mother threw her hands up. "Fine, hate me all you want! I thought the least I could give you was the truth. Now, please, leave and don't come back here ever again."

She slammed the door, and Raine stared at it, finding herself completely immobile. After a few minutes, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Jett half-walked half-carried her to the car, placing her back in the passenger seat. He went to the drivers side and turned the car on.

"Raine-" he started.

"I know," Raine said emotionlessly. "You were right. I should have listened to you when you told me that my mom is really a heartless bitch."

"I was going to tell you that I'm sorry that woman is a heartless bitch, but you have a real mom who loves you more than anyone else in the world does."

Jett drove off using one hand, the other one holding Raine'd. He drove in silence. The windshield wipers squeaked constantly. Raine cried silent tears and fell asleep to the lullaby of the pouring rain.

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”
“I said, I'm fine.”
“Are you sick or something?”
“No!” The st..."

I think I have already spazzes about this scene before XD

From The Innocents: WARNING: swearing.

I felt it before I saw it. The air currents changing significantly. I turned around and ducked just in time to avoid Hart's punch. I ducked under his second punch and landed another one in his gut.
"You sonofabitch!" He shouted, and punched me right in the face. I stumbled backwards, holding my nose. In my head, I knew it was broken, but I was too busy to notice. Hart tried to punch at my chest. I dodged to the side and grabbed his arm.
"Sorry, Hart." I said, then I jerked my arm up. He cried out in pain and stepped bacwards as his arm broke.
"You bastard!" he shouted. "It's all your fault!" He grabbed me by the arm and flipped me flat on my back. I gasped and flipped on my stomach just in time to get kicked straight in the face. I cried out in pain and grabbed my already broken nose. That's when I realized: He would kill me right there and then, if he could. And he would have, if Mr. Koolman hadn't stepped in. He got me to my feet and blocked Hart's next left-handed punch.
"That's enough, boys." he said. Hart dodged around him and punched me in the face again, a swift uppercut that nearly broke my jaw. Mr. Koolman drew his revolver.
"I said, that's enough!" he shouted. Hart looked at me from across Mr. Koolman's shoulder, staring daggers at me.
then he walked away. I could hear him muttering, "That son of a bitch," as he limped away cradling his broken arm.

Cara [I don't need a parachute] wrote: "Sorry for the lengthiness :) this is from The Rain Runner


"You sure about this?"

Raine sighed. "Jett, you don't get it. This is my mom. My real, biological mom."

"The real, biological mom who p..."

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH AAAAH. LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT.

So so so Raine is cursed and takes rain wherever she goes? THAT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

Lav [where was I when the rockets came to life] wrote: "Cara [I don't need a parachute] wrote: "Sorry for the lengthiness :) this is from The Rain Runner


"You sure about this?"

Raine sighed. "Jett, you don't get it. This is my mom. My real, biologica..."

Thank you dearie :)

Not quite. You know what it is a little earlier.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

Here's a fun one from Rage


My feet continued their tedious backward journey, one step at a time. Two steps. Three ...

And then my heel connected with a large root. I thought I would be able to regain my balance, but I discovered too late that I didn't have time. I fell hard, landing on my back. I rolled over right away, ignoring the throbbing pain. Gasping, I started to get to my feet. But as soon as I did so, I heard the demon snarl again––more loudly this time. My fist clenched around the handle of the knife.

Before I could fully take the challenge into account, there was a flash of dark movement in front of me. I was knocked to the ground again, a harsh growl filling my ears. A heavy weight pinned my arm to the ground, and I felt something sharp begin to dig into my shoulder.
I finally screamed, a shrill noise I hadn't known I was capable of making. I tried to struggle away, but the claws only dug deeper into my flesh, drawing warm blood. My head reeled, as I struggled to think.

The knife. Of course, the knife. Luckily, my dominant arm was free, and I drove the blade toward the demon's back. It met the creature's rough scales, which prevented the knife from going in very deep. But it seemed to be enough to surprise the demon, because it released a grunt and loosened its grip. I tried to scramble out from underneath it again, while it was still in shock. And while I still had the opportunity, I plunged the blade up into its stomach.

Instantly, I felt hot liquid pour out, running between my fingers. The demon howled, squirming away from me. I gagged, tearing myself out from underneath it. As disgusted as I was, I couldn't give it another opportunity to attack. It had rolled over onto its back, and I stabbed it in the stomach again. It clawed weakly at my arm as I clenched my teeth and twisted the blade. This time, I didn't back away until the creature ceased to make any noise.

Breathing hard, I started to rise to my feet. My vision flickered. I fell to my knees, wanting to collapse. But I had to get out of here ... had to run ...

Everything hurt. I could feel my own blood seeping out of the wounds in my shoulder, more blood oozing from the smaller cuts in my arm. I didn't know how badly I was injured, but it didn't matter. Somehow, I had to get home.

I attempted to rise again––but as I did so, I heard another snarl behind me.

Oh, no. There were two of them.

I got to my feet, my mind screaming at me to move. But I was so weak ... so tired ...

I forced my eyes open. No! I couldn't give up. Not now. Not now. I had to keep going, had to get home before it was too late.

The growling rose, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see a shape shifting its way through the darkness. But as I started to raise my bloody knife again, preparing to defend myself, there was another movement to my left––something larger than the demon in front of me.

The huge creature leapt out of nowhere, and the demon's snarl transformed into a terrible shrieking noise. In the darkness, I couldn't see the fight that followed, or even make out a distinguished shape of whatever had attacked the demon. I could only hear a pair of growls, rumbling as the two shapes battled each other.

A chance to escape, I realized through my dizziness.

I tried to run, but I tripped every few steps, and each time it was more difficult to get to my feet again. The ringing in my ears escalated into a roar. A greenish haze began to obscure my vision, washing out the world. I could still hear the noises of the demons fighting behind me, hideous ripping and snarling noises that made my stomach clench. But as my mind detached itself further from the world, I couldn't tell how far away they were by now.

Finally, my body gave up on me and I collapsed. And this time, I couldn't get up at all.

♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Oh boy, here's one from Unraveling. *censored*


“Emily?”

I heard a cough from a nearby stall. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I said, I'm fine.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No!” The st..."

That was really good.

Another one from The Innocents. It's turning out to be a very violent book.

Hitomi moved so fast I would've sworn it didn't even happen if I didn't know Hitomi.
His straightened fingers shot out at Mr. Fermin and hit him right in the shoulder. He cried out as his arm went limp, and Hitomi didn't even slow down. He punched him in the gut and slammed his elbow into Mr. Fermin's neck as he doubled over in pain. He took the pistol from his belt as he fell and slammed him over the head with it. He cried out and hit the ground. Hitomi put his foot on Mr. Fermin's back and shoved the gun into the back of his head. Fermin cried out.
"You think it's funny, hnuh?" Hitomi shouted. "You think pushing my friends around is funny, Fermin? Well I think this is pretty damn funny!" He pulled the trigger, and the bullet slammed into the floor an inch from Fermin's left ear.
"Don't kill me!" Fermin sobbed, his southern accent as prominent as ever. "Please don't kill me!"
"Would you kill me, Fermin?" Hitomi shouted. "Huh? Tell me, 'cause I really wanna know!"
"C'mon, son!" he shouted. "Please don't kill-" Hitomi whacked him over the head with the pistol and he fell silent. We all stared in awe. Hitomi looked at us with wide eyes.
"Well," he said. "that went well."

“What are you listening to?”

Crap. I thought Alan was in class this period and I’d be safe with sneaking in some “destructive music.” I fumble with my iPod until it’s muted and keep staring at the floor. “Aerosmith,” I mumble.

“Since when does Aerosmith sing Move Along?” I almost die of relief. I’m safe to look up from my feet and smile at the boy standing next to me. It’s Hayden.

Still grinning I say, “Was it really that loud?”

“I could distinguish the words from about 6 yards away, Alice,” he rolls his eyes.

I blink. I hadn’t realized my music was that loud at all. I’d only turned it up just enough to block out all my thoughts. “Guess I’d better make sure it’s quieter next time.”

“Why’d you say it was Aerosmith?” he looks at me curiously.

I shrug and suddenly I find myself looking at my feet again. “Alan doesn’t like it when I listen to certain types of music.”

“He tells you what you can listen to?”

I shrug again. “It’s just for my own good. He thinks it makes me edgy and messes with my mind. He’s right anyways. Some music just isn’t that great to listen to.” I still can’t bring myself to look back at Hayden’s face, but my eyes wander to his red Vans.

“That freaking…” Hayden starts to say, but stops.

“It’s fine. Really. I just… really need some of the Rejects and, well, you know me and my moments of weakness,” I force a laugh. “I’d better get going. He’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Alice…”

“Bye, Hayden. Have a good rest of the day,” I tell him.

I walk away, and turn back up my music. I thought it was quieter this time, but apparently it wasn’t quiet enough because as soon as I step outside, someone grabs my shoulder.

“What are you listening to?”

The contrast between the two guys would almost be funny, if I didn’t know what was coming next. Alan yanks the headphones from my ears and jerks my iPod out of my pocket, letting them crash onto the concrete and pulls me behind the building.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I really am. I just… really needed to listen to that song.”

I start shaking really hard, which just makes Alan’s grip on my arm tighter. He pushes me against the bricks and says, “Are you sure you’re sorry?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m sure. I’ll never disobey you again.”
He scowls and the pressure gets worse. “I don’t believe you.”

“Please…” I try to plead, but he ignores me.

I brace myself for his fist as he pulls his arm back, but that doesn’t do anything to numb the pain I feel as it slams into me over and over until I finally fall to the ground, unable to cry, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” anymore.

The next thing I know, I’m laying on the couch in Alan’s house and he’s holding an ice pack to my head while Aerosmith plays on his stereo and I smile at him. “Thanks for forgiving me, Alan,” I say and fall asleep in his arms.

I HATE ALAN!

But that was a really good scene.

BUT I HATE ALAN.

FREAKING JERK.

WOW! Dude, for that small little tidbit, (yes, I do say tidbit)I was on the edge of my seat! Alan needs to die in a hole, a dark hole! Fantastic!

The gates opened to arena, the sweltering Rome sun making the sand around my feet burn. No, I had to ignore that now. Sweat dripped down my body as I walked into the coloseum. This wasn't where people came for glory, this was where people like me came to die horrible, horrible deaths.

My opponent stood on the other end of the sandy battlefield, his blood-tipped sword glinting dangerously in the afternoon sun. He was large, larger than any man I had ever seen. I was doomed for sure. People from the Mob screamed overhead, some of them were friends, others were people who wanted me dead.

The Mob quieted as Caeser spoke from the balcony. Our head turned in his direction. He spoke loud from a piece of parchment, reciting my charges.

"Martella, slave of Ludus Maximus, are condemned to trial by combat in the glorious arena on the charges of attempt of assasination." he finished. I stood gravely in my spot. Caeser nodded, and my opponent and I circled each other. My death had begun.
He made the first attack, so fast it almost seemed in human. His sword tip knicked my shoulder drawing blood aand searing pain through my sheild arm. My red blood dripped to the floors of the arena, I made a note not to slip in it. The Mob cheered, excited by first draw.

We circled again, waiting for the other to move. The next blow was mine. I made a dash to his abdomin, but faked him out and moved to his knees,sclicing them and causing him to fall, only for a moment though. He lept at my throat, trying to cut me up from my neck down. I side stepped out of the way, just in time too. From behind me I could hear the gates opening and a loud roar of a jungle cat echoed throught the stadium. Caeser was getting impatient for my death.

Sweat was pouring from my head now, stingin my dry eyes. The other gladiator lunged again, looking for the impetum letaram (deadly attack), the one that would end me. I brought my feeble sheild up just in time, but the blow shattered it into thousands of pieces. This was it, I thought as he raised his sword overhead. The Mob was going crazy, crazy for my blood. I rolled out of the way to dodge his blow. I tried to recover though, but my opponent kicked me to the ground, I heard my ribs crack.

I was coughing now, my blood coming out of my throat, warm and metalic. I breaths became ragged and forced. I screamed in agony as the gladiator's sword dug into my leg. He kicked my weapon from my hands, which were now begining to lose their color. My unknown opponent smiled through his helmet, so sure of his win. I don't know what in the gods names posessed me, but I smiled back. Caeser raised his hand and signalled him to slit my throat.

The vain gladiator took a second to enjoy th applause from the Mob, taking in his glory of his soon to be kill. Wrong move. I pushed past the white hot pain coursing through my body and stumbled fro my sword. He turned around too late. I sliced at the kneecaps again, this time, I hit bone. My opponent fell to the sand, his life blood pouring out. Through my own clouded vision I saw Caeser grow crimsion with rage. I looked down at my prey. I clumsily kicked his helmet away with my good leg, revealing his face. I stared at the slave trader who had pained me so much in my year under his rule. I should've have let him live, but like he had taught me before: In a slave's world, there's no such thing a mercy. I plunged my blade into his heart, and stumbled out of the arena. Once through the gates, I fell to my knees, tired, so tired and cold. I could feel my own lifeblood pouring out of my wounds. I saw Adeatus lean down next to me, but I was so numb, I couldn't feel his warm embrace, or loving kisses. All I felt was the blackness that now surrounded me....

~ ♪She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named [Yue]~ wrote: "Jordan (Rock You Like A Hurricane) wrote: "Another one from The Innocents. It's turning out to be a very violent book.

Hitomi moved so fast I would've sworn it didn't even happen if I didn't know..."

Thank you. I try.

I can't write fight scenes.

Hrrrm no one has really posted any scenes here in forever. So I will! Here's part of one from Jump ... it's actually like an annoying twenty-page long scene so uhhh here is a snippet of it ... Kind of has some big spoilers in it, but I guess that doesn't matter since no one's going to read it anyway. SO ENJOY.



Suddenly, when I looked at Luther, I had never wanted to kill him so much. He had caused all of this, and I couldn't let him get away this time. Because of him, my friend was dead, and I couldn't let him go out there and kill more people––people who were loved, people who had lives and families. Me? I didn't matter. I was just some messed-up superhuman freak, and this wasn't about me anymore.

It was about the whole world.

I wasn't thinking of anything anymore––not of myself, not of Lacey's death, not of Evin, not of the whole Ideal army watching us. All I could feel was a burning and inhuman hatred, and Luther was standing in the middle of it.

Finally, I tried to hit him––but I had to use my left arm, and he moved out of the way too fast. The punch still managed to catch him in the shoulder, but it didn't have much of an impact. He twisted away from me, and when he turned around again I saw something catch fire in his eyes––something that looked like triumph, like he thought he'd already won. The noise in the watching crowd escalated. I was fighting back, just like they wanted me to.

We both made several more attempts, fists lashing out at each other in vain. I could feel my senses coming alive now, taking everything in. I could see every slight movement Luther made, and I moved when he did––whenever he took a step backward, I stepped forward. I could feel the faint vibrations in the floor under my feet. I could sense every single person in the room, the rush of a hundred hearts pounding in anticipation.

Time seemed to slow down. I saw that glint of a warning in Luther's eyes, saw him raise a fist and watched it coming towards me. I didn't know how I had time to think … although I didn't feel as if I were thinking at all. But somehow, I was reaching up, grabbing his wrist with my left, stopping the blow from landing. I took hold of his forearm with my right hand, although my muscles all the way from my shoulder blade to my fingertips convulsed in pain. So, it wasn't broken. Or maybe it had already started healing. It still hurt like hell, but at least I could move it.

I saw the momentary surprise on Luther's face, and then I threw him aside, putting as much strength as I could into it. He lost his balance and fell, landing flat on his back a couple of feet away from me. I tensed, ready for him to get back up again. The crowd was almost screaming now, their cries rising, the indecipherable words piercing my ears.

Luther moved in a blur, rolling over until he was in a crouching position. This wasn't what I had expected. What was he … ? Then, using his arms to support him, he swung his legs around and knocked my feet out from underneath me. Now I was the one who fell. I tried to stop myself from hitting the floor, but––of course––I fell to the right, and when I tried to stop the impact with my arm, agony exploded through it.

Wincing, I started to get up. I made it to my knees, but by then, Luther was already standing. He kicked me in the chest, and I felt the breath rush out of my lungs so fast, it felt like it had been ripped out of me. Something snapped, and the pain was so great and so sudden that it made my head reel. I doubled over, unable to breathe. Oh, God. I was dying … dying …

Naturally, Luther began to laugh. Finally, I managed to hiss in a breath, although it still felt like I was being stabbed through the heart. I looked up, and saw Luther looming over me. I felt so weak, so beaten, kneeling there. I could still feel blood pouring from my nose, and the pain throbbing down my arm and through my ribcage. I felt like I was looking down at myself from somewhere else, and I hated what I saw. Why was I doing this? How could I be fighting, continuing the violence, when Lacey had just been killed because of it?

Lacey.

No. She wasn't really dead. She couldn't be. But she was. Oh, God. She was. And it was my fault. …

“This is exactly what I expected,” Luther said, his dark eyes glimmering. He grinned. “You haven't changed. You never will.”

Flickering black dots started appearing in my vision, like tiny holes were burning through it. I bent over again and closed my eyes, not wanting to look Luther in the face, not wanting to see the crowd watching, not wanting to think or feel anything at all … just to fade away completely.

“I told you that this would be your downfall,” Luther went on. “Your problem is that you're too human. That's why you can't fight me, now. It's because of her, isn't it?”

I coughed, and the pain worsened. “Who?” I snarled, although I had a cold and horrible feeling that I knew.

“The Outsider girl,” he answered, and the casual tone of his voice made me want to kill him more than ever. “I've just been informed about her tragic, accidental death. What a shame.” He chuckled, like it was some kind of joke.

I wanted to lurch to my feet. I wanted to kill him, really kill him this time. But the pain was too much, and if I fought him he was only going to fight back harder, and everything was going in circles and it was never going to end …

“It's kind of funny,” Luther continued. “I know you think you're so much better than me. But whose fault is it that she's dead? Who got her involved in the first place?”

I went tense, the words getting to me right away, making me feel like I was going to throw up. I remembered how I'd denied that I was anything like him, that only a few nights ago I'd believed that I knew what I was doing and that it wouldn't go wrong.

I still had my eyes closed, and I felt the turmoil of emotions building up inside me until I felt ready to explode––rage and devastation and fear and confusion and hatred.

Then Luther's voice broke through, speaking the words that silenced the storm of thoughts, the words that snapped everything into perspective.

“How does it feel, Collins? How does it feel to be the bad guy?”

I've written soooooo much, yet I've never written a fight scene? This needs to be fixed immediately. Hmmmmmm Jass and Drae? Maybe. Or Joslynn, she gets in a ton of trouble. I should jump right on this, but I probably wont.

Quinn wrote: "I've written soooooo much, yet I've never written a fight scene? This needs to be fixed immediately. Hmmmmmm Jass and Drae? Maybe. Or Joslynn, she gets in a ton of trouble. I should jump right on t..."

Me too. Only things I've ever written are kissing and death scene and one sex scene for a fan fiction....

My goodness, I'm pathetic.

A DRAGON?!
Awesome.
That was cool.
This comment is lame. I'm tired.

Dragons are fun.
Thst comment was lame too.

You know what's a great movie? HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON. It wins epically.

yeah it does

Who's there?

I AM.

CHUCK NORRIS IS ALWAYS THERE.

*inches away slowly* Chuck...Norris?

Meh. I don't even know how I feel about this "fight" scene in Buried Beneath. Opinions?

------------------------------------------------



After breakfast I pulled my blonde curls into a ponytail and walked into the training area. The training area was a room in the basement with all sorts of objects to use as weapons and to enhance powers. All I needed was energy. I was born with the ability to manipulate energy around me to do what I wanted. I could turn it into electricity, create storms or a force field, that sort of thing. It took years of practice to really get it down.
Each super human’s powers are linked with their emotions. If my emotions were bad – emotions like anger, nervousness, sadness – it could cause some problems if I didn’t try to keep my powers in check. No matter what I had to channel what I was feeling right then in order to use my powers. Happiness and love were the two strongest emotions that I could ever experience. Unfortunately, when I needed to use my powers it generally meant I wasn’t exactly feeling either of those.
“You ready for a rough fight?” Tay asked me teasingly. I rolled my eyes and braced myself. “I’ll go easy on you.”
“Ha! I think you should be asking ME to go easy on YOU, not the other way around,” I said. He smirked and shrugged.
“I guess we’ll just have to see who’s right,” he told me. We waited for the beep that signified we could start fighting. It took a moment but then it sounded. Instantly Tay turned and ran into some aisles of shelves.
“What the-?” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. “Are you really that scared?”
No response. I rolled my eyes and headed in his direction. Bad move. As soon as I got close enough he used the electricity from the power cords plugged into the wall to blow me up and away. The electricity tingled all over my body, itching and burning before I harnessed the power that had come from that and stopped myself from hitting the wall.
“Good job, little girl,” Tay laughed as he walked out from the shelves. “I was surprised you were slow enough to even come near me.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this, you know,” I told him.
“Your mom always told me that shouldn’t be an excuse.”
I could remember her telling me that, too. I glared at him and shot electricity at him, which he dodged.
“I bet I could suck all of your electric power away from you,” I told him.
“Not unless I let you,” he reminded me.
“I mean without your permission.”
“Oh really, now? You’re that cocky?”
“No. I’m just that powerful.”
Truthfully, yes, I was being that cocky. I wasn’t used to not being the best. I’d become even more powerful than my mother, and equally as powerful as my father before he’d left. I didn’t like that my mom had seen the same thing in Tay as she’d seen in me.
“Give it a try,” he said. He stopped moving and stared at me, his eyes now blue and sparking with electricity. I raised my eyebrows, surprised he was letting me, but I took the chance. I closed my eyes, pushing all of my power towards him, trying to take his powers. I felt my head burning and my heart racing with the effort. I could barely breathe, and suddenly I felt something slam into me, and then a moment later I felt myself slam into the wall, sandwiched between two objects.
“What was that?” I exclaimed in Tay’s face as he pinned me.
“You dropped your guard. I had a fair chance to take you down.” He smirked at me again. “Did you honestly think I’d let you take my powers?”
“No, I didn’t think that.”
“So you really just thought you were good enough to take them?”
I stared into his electric blue eyes and tried to shrug, unable to because he was pressed against me, holding me there.
“Maybe.”
He laughed in my face, and I noticed his breath smelled amazing. Then I kicked myself mentally, because I shouldn’t have even been focused on that.
“You’re a lot more naïve than I expected. I guess I should’ve known that if you left you would’ve been really naïve.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You had it made here. Your mom loved you, your brother loved you, you were training to be the most powerful super human in existence… And you just left all of that.”
“I wanted to be myself.”
“You can never escape who you really are. Did you ever think that ‘yourself’ was who you’d been born as?”
I rolled my eyes, not even willing to answer him.
“So, how’re you going to get out of this trap?” He asked me. I stared at his face, which was inches from mine and made myself aware of how exactly he was blocking me from freedom. I smirked at him and he furrowed his eyebrows.
“Just wait,” I said.
“For what?” he questioned.
“You’ll see.”
It took me a moment, and sure, I had a bit of an unfair advantage, but all is fair in love and war, right? I lifted my knee as quickly as I could and Tay doubled over in pain, allowed me to run away.
“That wasn’t even fair!” Tay exclaimed, obviously still in pain.
“You’re the bad guy, remember?” I told him. I tried to find something to help me, but I couldn’t find any of the old objects I’d used to use to enhance my powers. So, I stood on a chair, reached up to one of the light bulbs and sucked its energy away, along with the rest of them.
It was pitch black now. I knew that my eyes were glowing with the power I’d taken from the light, but I dimmed the glowing as much as I could so I wouldn’t give away my position. It took a moment to adjust to the darkness but when it mattered I could see well enough to avoid Tay’s hands groping for me in the darkness.
“Where are you?” he whispered. When his used his hand to create a dim light from the electricity he turned around and saw me, smiling at him.
“I’m right here,” I said, before knocking him unconscious. I had won.

WOW. That was really good. The words were really powerful, and I could see the scene in my head.

SO here is my scene. It is 1946, the partition of India. Their mother has had an accident in India and their father has disappeared. They are on a ship to Genua, Italy, and will go to Canada from there. Divya (age twelve), her brother Ravi (age ten) , and her sister Anjali (age seven) , are hiding food for their hidden twin five year old brother and sister on a ship to Genua, Italy.
Divya was supposed to hide a little bit of food only, but she took extra because she didn't think her siblings would be able to. This leads to an argument between her and her brother....

Divya caught up with her brother and sister as people filed out of the dining hall. “Did everything work for you two?” Anjali nodded.
“Did you like my way of getting roti?” she asked shyly.
“Very much,” Divya assured her. “In fact, I used it too.” She showed them her container.
Ravi’s eyes were filled with shock and something else – anger? “You said you were only going to get the dal!”
“I know, but if I only got the dal, it wouldn’t have been enough for Rohan and Rhea,” Divya explained. “And I don’t want you two to have to take extra. I’ll do it.”
Ravi’s eyes blazed. “Look, Divya,” he hissed. “You may be the best at dealing with small children, and you may be the oldest, but you’re not the best at everything.”
The sudden fire started in Divya. Anger clouded her mind. Did Ravi really think that this was about competition? Brother-sister competition? “That’s not what this is about! I’m trying to take care of our brother and sister, for goodness’ sake! Do you know what would happen to them without this?” She brandished the container at him. “I don’t think you want to!”
“Well, do you think you’re the only one helping them?” Ravi shot back. “You do! You think you’re doing this all alone, that you’re the best and the most capable, and that you’re the mother duck and we’re just mindless ducklings!” His hands had clenched into fists. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Anjali and I are here, and we’re doing just as much as you!”
“You’ve never been the oldest!” Divya retorted. “You don’t know what it feels like. There’s nobody behind you. Nobody to ask for advice. Nobody to guide you.” She winced as she realized that she was implying that Ravi was being ‘guided’ by her, but she didn’t stop. “You develop a protective instinct for your siblings. It’s not something you can choose to have! I want to protect Rhea and Rohan that way. You can’t blame me for taking more!”
“That’s not the point!” Ravi shouted back. “You’ve been taking leadership ever since Amma’s accident. So, you’re the oldest. And? That doesn’t mean your decisions are always correct, and it doesn’t mean that you’re perfect. But you’re acting like you are, like every other idea is complete rubbish, and that your ideas are the only ones that matter and the only ones that will work. Well, Anjali and I, and even the twins, are here to help you and can come up with ideas as good as yours, and it would be nice if you acknowledged that!”
“Stop it!” Anjali shrieked suddenly. She jumped between the older boy and girl. “You’re not making things any better by fighting! You’re giving everything away! What will happen to us if you do that? Stop it!” Tears were springing to the little girl’s eyes. Divya’s anger melted away as quickly as it had come.
“You’re right.” She took the small girl’s hand. “Let’s go back to the room.” She still felt resentful towards Ravi, but with each step back to the room, she knew that she and Ravi needed to apologize not only to Anjali, but also to each other. She glanced backwards at her brother, but Ravi was examining his container, not meeting her eyes. He clearly wasn’t going to apologize to her, and she wasn’t sure she could apologize to him. She knew she didn’t have the courage to say ‘Sorry’ to Anjali out loud right now, but she managed to slip an apology to her by pretending to fix Anjali’s chuni and whispering it in her ear.
Minutes later, Ravi stopped Anjali to brush something off her shoulder. While doing so, he put his mouth to her ear and whispered something. Divya knew what that something was.
She sighed. We really need to get back on speaking terms. But his cold words burned in her mind, and stubbornness planted itself inside her. She pressed her lips together and refused to meet his gaze all the way back to the room.
Back in the room, there were no sounds except for the hungry munching of Rohan and Rhea as they finished eating. Divya sat on her unfamiliar bed, staring at a book. But what was going through her mind had nothing to do with the story.
Was Ravi right? Was her leadership that way? The he said it, it sounded like she was taking her siblings for granted. Which wasn’t true…was it?
Divya thought back to the last time one of her siblings had helped her. The answer rose to the surface of her mind – Ravi in the train with Rohan and Rhea, begging him to explore. He hadn’t been able to keep them satisfied, but he had kept them safe, and preoccupied. He had given them all breakfast. Anjali had fixed their hair. While she, Divya had been sleeping.
And she had hardly praised Anjali. She had criticized Ravi. She had ignored what they were doing and barged in with her own ideas the minute she was awake.
Ravi was right. She was being self-centered.
Divya stood up suddenly and put her hands on her hips. “Ravi, will you come out to the deck with me for a minute?” Half-afraid he would refuse, she waited for his reply. He just nodded and stood up. He must know what I’m going to do. Ravi knows me well. Too well.
Divya followed her brother out onto the deck, the winds blowing strands of hair back from her face. As he faced her, she saw his grim face and eyes as hard as steel. Her courage shuddered, crept to the back of her mind, and refused to come out. Come on. With a hard jostle, she knocked it back to the front and began to speak.
“You were right,” she began breathlessly. “I haven’t acknowledged you. I’ve been taken you for granted. I’m being selfish and self-centered.” And before she realized it, she was pouring out all her thoughts from a few minutes ago. As Ravi listened, his eyes grew wide and guilt spread across his face.
“Divya, that’s not what I meant! I never wanted you to think that,” he blurted out. He gave an exasperated sigh. “I give you one piece of criticism and you get all these crazy ideas. What I meant was, your brain is concentrate only on your ideas, and other peoples’ just bounce off the end. You need to open a door for them too.” He paused. “And you’re not self centered. You never wanted this. You never chose it. And you’re not trying to make things revolve around you. Everything you’re doing is for the twins and for us.” He looked like he wanted to add “and for Amma” but he didn’t. “You’re doing all you can. And if Anjali and I help you and we work together, then we can do this.”
Divya was silent, staring at the foamy waves lapping at the ship. He brain was slowly trying to find the meaning of what Ravi had just said. “But…” she stopped. Listen to other ideas. “Okay.”
She looked at him, a sudden feeling rushing into her heart. Ravi was here right beside her, but ever since Amma’s accident – no, ever since the partition itself began, the other part of him had been lost – the part that was her little brother who she had known and loved for as long as she could remember – was slipping away. He was right here, yet he was so far away.
She put her arms around him. It was as if someone had controlled her. But she knew she had performed the action, and she knew why.
“No matter how much you have to help me, you’re still my baby brother.
He didn’t say anything.
He agreed. She knew he did.

I really like the baby ducks line and the opening a door for ideas line. Ravi seems really cool. :3

Thanks! Ravi is one of my better characters, definitely.

Hi, I'm erm new. Anyway, I saw this discussion and said "yay!" I like writing fight scenes. So. Erm. Here goes.
(I really hope it isn't too long)



The silence of the night was broken by a thunderous noise. Several shrieks and screams followed. I was instantly alert and leapt out of my bed, not that I needed much incentive to do that, lousy rock hard bed. My door wasn't locked, obviously, so I just blew through the door and exited the little shack. The air outside was cold. So I almost instinctively formed the image of myself in a long sleeved shirt-like garment and willed it into existence in exchange for the flimsy cloth I had on. My mental sketch had been rather rough, so there wasn't much detail to it, but it was basically a long-sleeved T-shirt. I glanced both way and only saw the vast starry expanse of black sky and dark shadows for buildings and the desert ground itself. Screams were still coming from somewhere, so I attempted to search for the source. I turned a full 180 and then saw it. Or rather didn't see it, and hence assumed it was the object of my search. A large shadow blotted out the sky in the direction I now faced. I sprinted around my hut and toward the shadow, which from what little I could make out, was enjoying itself tearing the little shacks apart with some gigantic but crude looking sword.

Presently, as I ran towards it, the shadow flailed the bulky sword in the air, blotting out some thirty stars, and let out another roar. This could be one of three things a hack, an enemy, or an elite. I concentrated on the increasingly familiar sketch of my sword. As my mind – diagram completed, I believed with all my being that I was holding it. A second later it sketched into creation. It was so easy now. People were running past me now, all fleeing for their virtual lives and who knew? Maybe their real ones as well if this, this thing was strong enough. I slowed to a halt. The object of my attention slammed its mountainous sword into the earth noisily. Then, I caught sight of a figured crawling out of one of the half destroyed shacks. Unfortunately for him, so did our friendly neighbourhood giant (though he didn't seem overly friendly, and the neighbourhood is just slightly destroyed). I ran towards the survivor. Giant swung his sword-club down. Uh-oh, I wasn't going to make it. No, not the right way to think.

Don't analyse, believe. I will get there! Bang! I was rolling on the ground. The good part? Survivor was rolling with me. The bad part? Giant was already bringing his blade down again. He was fast! I pushed survivor away, hard. And raised my, damn! I had dropped my blade during the transportation.I jumped backwards, willing myself to get away. A contest of wills. I won. The sword crashed in front of me. And I was blown away. I flew backwards ten feet because the sword missed me. Ouch. I could afford to take even a graze from that. It would probably decapitate me. I willed my sword to come to me and it did. Giant was now just standing in front of me. For the first time I noticed a figure on his left shoulder, sitting peacefully amidst all the destruction. Questions bombarded me, but I had more important matters to concentrate on. Like diving sideways. Yet another crash at the spot where I had just been.I had jumped a good two meters, and the club-sword had still just missed me. Yet another gale forced wind blew me away. By the time I recovered, the blade was coming again. This was cat and mouse. I was definitely going to die if this kept up. This was no hack. No programmer could mould the world this much. Not in my experience. Most likely option? Elite. I think I'd given people enough time to run. Now it was my turn. I turned and ran. Five seconds later, a quick glance over my shoulder told me that this was not going to help. Giant was keeping up. Easily. There was a sharp crack and something slapped my chest. It wound tightly around me. Damn. A rope. It pulled and I went flying towards Giants club-sword. The figure on its shoulder held the rope. This better work. I focused on what Erin had said about the projectiles. As quickly as I could I formed an image, complete with the inner constitution and the the reasoning behind why it would work. Then I convinced myself it existed. My will moulded the world and three blue arrows appeared above my head and lanced away. Two towards the giant, and one towards the rope wielder. The rope slackened and I slipped out. As the rope-wielder changed his focus. The remaining two arrows shattered on contact with the giant. What a waste.

On that happy note, I noticed that my situation had not improved a great deal. I was facing a giant, about ten times taller than me, that seemed to be made of steel stone or both, wielding a mountainous sword. The good part? I had a two millimetre thin steel blade to oppose it. Well I guess it's better than nothing. Oh yeah, I forgot the demonic rope user sitting peacefully on the giant's shoulder. A slight breeze ruffled my overgrown red hair, reminding me that while I was busy feeling hopeless, time was still moving, and hence I was getting closer to a certain death. Another vertical downstroke from the giant slammed into the ground as I managed to once again narrowly avoid it. My left sleeve yielded to the rushing wind, leaving my arm for a more fortunate destination. I skidded along the ground. My thin and hopefully better than useless sword was now drawn. As the giant whirled towards me, his blade came sweeping in a horizontal arc. There’s no way I can get above it. Obviously, I couldn’t go towards it. I'd get crushed by the sheer force of the slipstream if I could manage to get under it.

Okay, out of time. I leapt to the right, following the path of the blade. I raised my sword vertically, using it to block the oncoming blow. This jump was not an attempt to get away from the strike. It was to soften the impact on my blade, hopefully I'd be able to ride the blow. Clang! I started accelerating. My blade seemed to be intact. Success. Then my brain whited out as my body was abruptly crushed. Once, twice. I slipped off the club-sword, in an uncontrolled flight away from the giant. After what seemed like an eternity I hit the ground. The ground burned. The friction - the abrasion, it hurt. I flipped and land on my stomach and finally rolled to a stop. Ouch. The world hurt. It seemed like I’d just been thrown through a building. Lucky these were made of wood. Something was broken though I couldn’t what - I couldn’t be intact after that. And I would be even less so if I remained like this. The trembling ground heralded the arrival of the walking monster. This was NOT good. I was panting, and each breath hurt. Should I just give in to the death that awaits me? Or should I needlessly prolong the end. My now reasonably certain end. I couldn’t move - well not much anyway. I struggled onto one knee. At best, I could take one more blow. I would at least irritate them, if that was all I could do.

I sensed the club sword being raised for a crushing blow. I sheathed my sword. As the blade came crashing down, I raised my entire sheathed sword, held up on my palms. I focussed on strengthening, not my blade, but my forearms. His weapon was wide as the length of mine, therefore, mine could not split down the middle. However, if my forearms gave way, I'd be dust. A split second later my wrists shatter. The shock of the blow permeated through my strengthened arms, cracking the bones. Some bone in my leg broke as it was driven into the ground and I was pushed down. Hammered to a breath from death in that single strike. But the giant is stopped. I smiled. At least I had stood up to him. Now I'd be dust in another second, but he still couldn't crush me in a single blow. I was now flat on my back, with one of my legs bent under me. My elbows were frozen in depressions in the ground under me, my palms still supporting the sheathed sword on my broken wrists. The giant raised his sword. My sheath splintered and so did the hilt and guard on my sword, leaving only the bare blade behind. As my focus wavered, My forearms shattered as well and new pain wracked my brain. I exhaled loudly. I’d lasted twice. “Die.” A soft voice spoke from above me - and the black shadow descended.

I guess this could be considered a loosing verbal fight. XP I don't know where to put this.

"sometimes i get pushed to a point where i break down. i keep fighting back, but They are always there, knocking me down, crumbling me.

and the worst part is i can’t tell anyone because they agree with Them.
They just don’t get it.

i sit in my chair and cry. They’re always there, mocking and laughing and calling me things that no one should be called. They make assumptions, They act like hypocrites. when i complain, they only start back up again and yell things into my face. They try to tell me how wrong i am.

They always think They’re right. They’re right, i’m wrong. that’s what They always say, always believe. They tell me that They can think about something in that way, but i can’t oppose what They’re thinking because that’s what makes up horrible people.

no, no, no, i try to tell Them, i’m not horrible, you’re not horrible.
but They don’t listen. i’m still awful.

when i tell them to stop, that They’re hurting me, They keep going on.
They never stop. ever.

so now i’m still alone, still in need of a friend that’ll listen to me and agree and help me when They come back.

but nobody’s ever there.
because everybody’s Them."

That's somehow very jarring -
It does a really good job at evoking sympathy for the speaker, and the shadowy, undefined 'Them' is much more effective that restricting it to any specific group, this way any reader can relate to it, using their own imagination to identify 'Them'. For me it was simply these dark jeering silhouettes with completely white eyes and teeth. Chilling, in a strange way. Really nice work!

*blushes* Thanks!

I'm not good with physical fight scenes. It usually ends up like: "He slashed his sword, and then she blocked it. Then that happened a few more times. And then she almost hit him, but he blocked her instead. After a while, they got tired and stopped fighting. And then one of them delivered a surprise attack. Death and angst!"

... Somewhat exaggerated, but you get the idea.