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Writing because yes.

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1 Writing because yes. on Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:37 pm

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Sooo yeahhhhh.. I also write shit. Quite randomly and without reason. So this is where you get to suffer with me posting random things I wrote that are never going to be continued! Fun, right?

This here's some ish I wrote on Write or Die whilst bored, like five minutes ago. Not edited. At All. Never going to be continued, but heres we go. Also I changed what genre I was writing a paragraph in. Also fun.
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Her bare feet hit the ground hard and sent a wave of pain up her legs, making her grimace each time and clench her fists tighter. The rain beat down hard and she knew this had all been a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. Continuing to run was her only choice and so she did, gulping for air as she ran farther and farther away from the school. She had lost her shoes and was covered in bruises, but she couldn't be near those kids anymore. One more punch and she wouldn't have been able to handle it anymore. She refused to allow thoughts of what had been happening to her to arise to the front of her mind, feeling a stress headache coming on. That or she had really hurt her head this time, she didn't know. Just like she didn't know if it was the rain sticking her hair flat against her head or blood, there were many things she didn't know the answer too and it was likely she never would. Answers weren't what she wanted anyways, she just wanted to get away. She didn't want to go back to the school. She didn't want to be beat again. One of the solutions she had sought for before had been death, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't pull the trigger and end it and she hated that, so instead she thought of running away since her parents refused to move, which she took as evidence of how little they cared.

It wasn't until Quin was at the recently shut down thai place that she stopped, shivering from the cold the rips in her clothing let in. This wouldn't have happened if the others didn't think she was crazy, which she was starting to think she just might be. Sane people didn't see monsters around every corner or hear voices, she hardly blamed the students for hitting her. She would do it too if she was in their shoes, but she wasn't. She was in the shoes, or bare feet as it was, of a lonely girl running from bullies, uncaring parents, and herself. She knew that there wasn't any changing her lot in life and that she was stuck being the crazy, abused girl until she was old enough to drop out and go somewhere that might be safer, which she figured was anywhere if she could refrain from the whole responding to her own thoughts out loud. People tended to look down upon her when she did that and she couldn't blame them, she's think anyone that did even half the things she did was crazy if she wasn't the one doing it.

But she was, so that was that and she would continue to deal with it her own way, which was to pretend it didn't matter, take care of anything they did when she got home, and just go back the next day like nothing happened. It.. didn't make the abuse end, but she doubted anything would which is why she continued her usual pattern by walking into the store and looking for her things. She was oblivious to most sounds, assuming any bumps or creeks were rodents wandering. It wasn't until she had dug up her belongings, turning and heading towards the lady's room when she realized it wasn't a rodent. Her hand was already on the door handle when she could have sworn she felt something tug at her shirt and looked away to see it. Or her. What was the best word to describe a hallucination? She spent a few minutes simply looking at it with disinterest and thinking about a good term, finally deciding to just keep calling it Ronnie like it had asked

"Why are we here?" Ronnie spoke, breaking the silence. The little thing Quin had thought up looked like she was ten, with brown hair that reached her hair that contrasted Quin's own blonde pixie cut. Where Quin's clothing was torn, her "friend's" clothing was still in the slightly messy, played in look as it always in, though Ronnie's shoes were gone

"Where are your shoes? No need to mimic this, Ronnie." Quin ignored the question, shaking her head as she openly responded to her imagination and pushed open the restroom room door, walking to the sink and hoping they hand't shut off the plumbing yet. She switched it on and had to wait a few minutes before liquid streamed out, splashing against the bottom of the sink. Taking out a clean piece of cloth, she put it under the stream and started to clean up. "Can you get me the shirt I brought along?" She faltered after speaking this, remembering that Ronnie couldn't get her anything and dropping the reddened cloth into the sink, shutting off the water before moving to pick up the other things she had left in the store, which was a change of clothing. She was very prepared for this situation, since it was common.

"You didn't answer!" Ronnie whined, pouting and covering her eyes with her calloused hands as Quin started to pull of her torn shirt and tossed it to the side, pulling on the sweater she had packed. Ronnie didn't bother dropping her hands until Jane had changed her pants too, moving closer and bouncing by her side "Why are we here now? I liked the train station bathroom!"

"Because people still use that bathroom, so this one is better because no one can hear me talking to you." Quin shook her head as if this made perfect sense when it made just as much sense as trying to defend her stand point when talking to a figment of her imagination. Shrugging, she picked up the backpack she had been keeping the clothing in and swung it up over her shoulder, watching Ronnie in a bemused fashion as she started whining again

"Why does that matter?" Her pout deepened "You're not ashamed of me, are you?" Jane didn't respond, walking out of the bathroom and hoping Ronnie would fade soon enough, she had to go home and her parents catching her arguing with herself would.. kind of really suck. Like a lot.

2 Re: Writing because yes. on Tue Oct 22, 2013 4:09 pm

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I believe I edited all the Jane's to Quin, because reading the name Jane made me think of Homestuck and it wasn't helping

3 Re: Writing because yes. on Tue Oct 22, 2013 6:50 pm

Big Boss

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Wow wow wow this is amazing!! It's haunting and shows a grittier, darker side to reality (my favourite representation of reality tbh). Your descriptions kick ass too - you pay a lot of attention to really small details and it's pretty awesome okay. I feel so bad for your character - my god, you can never give your characters good lives, can you? -_-
Eee, it was truly fab Zan! *many claps* Gotta get you a gold star fo' this.

4 Re: Writing because yes. on Tue Oct 22, 2013 8:49 pm

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Thanks, if anything I usual hear that people find my descriptions annoying ._. And I had two characters that had a decent life! Though, I was in the 5th grade and I think their biggest worry was the best way to entertain the readers? Like they literally referenced the audience way too many times, I have no idea what I was trying to poke fun at xD Yay! I love gold stars!

5 Re: Writing because yes. on Wed Oct 23, 2013 9:33 pm

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This is twice the length so I put in under a spoiler thing!

Changed the genre again. Now it's paranormally fantasy something? IUNNO

No editing happened so sorry if something doesn't make sense I already spotted a few

Spoiler:
Quin held her eyes shut as tightly as she could, now scarred hands pressed against her ears in an attempt to keep the sound out. Why was this happening? Ronnie wasn't supposed to be like this, but then again she wasn't supposed to be real either. She was supposed to be like any ten year old, just she was fake and made up entirely by Quin's lonely mind. Even when she had been told the truth of Ronnie, she couldn't believe it. Even she wasn't crazy enough to believe in ghosts. But now there was no way to deny it, Ronnie's screams echoing throughout the small, abandoned Thai place. Her body stretching out, rippling and tearing apart. Whatever had been left behind by the owners now flew around in the twisted, horrifying body that used to be Ronnie and went flying around the room, smashing out of a window and hitting the few that had investigated the disturbance. Finally, seeming to calm, Ronnie shrunk to just above Quin's height, only tall enough to lean over Quin, standing close enough that if she wanted to, Ronnie could tear the scared girl apart, effortlessly too.

Quin's breath came out shaky as she stared at what she had always believed she imagined up and after a moment of silence, a moment of fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, she spoke

"I-I'm sorry!" Her face was pale, sweat sticking stray hears to her neck and tears stinging her eyes "I-I won't do it again!" Quin hoped Ronnie would believe her, they had been through this before merely days ago and now it happened again. Last time, Ronnie had attacked her and it worse than anything other kids had ever inflicted upon here.

"You said that yesterday!" Instead of the raspy voice Quin had expected, it came out as the Ronnie she had liked.. or at least, didn't completely detest having hanging around all the time. Pouting, Ronnie's eyes came to life again, her skin returning to the tanned state it had always been before the two had started fighting. Minutes before, it looked like rotting flesh, ready to fall off the bone. Her clothing went back to the state Quin had become used to and she could feel herself taking a breath of relief, her heart pace just beginning to return to normal "You better not be lying this time."

"I'm not! We... We can even go back to the train station if you want!" Her voice cracked on the last word, realizing that Ronnie didn't want to go back to the train station. Ronnie wanted to go farther away than that, somewhere she could do whatever she wanted and no one could stop her. Not Quin or the lady with the smelly perfume that thought she was a ghost. Though, she had to admit that was a really funny thought. Her. A Ghost. No, no she was worse than that, but she didn't mind letting Quin think she wasn't as bad as she really was. If Quin knew the truth she might not get her way, so she couldn't let that happen "Or Williamsburg, like I-I promised." Ronnie smiled. That was exactly where she wanted to go, to a town Quin didn't know was abandoned and where no one would hear Quin's screams. Seeming pleased, she shrunk down to her normal height and took Quin by the hand, giggling

"Let's go now then!" Her smile was still missing the same teeth it always had been, but at least it didn't look like she forgot to brush her teeth and the last meal she had was human. They were all normal looking too, but that was a lot better than before and Quin felt herself smile. Maybe if this went well, Ronnie would never get mad at her again.

It took days to even get halfway to Williamsburg and they still had ways to go, but for now there weren't any buses up and running so they spent the night in Boston. Ronnie was gone for now, or just hidden away. Quin's parents didn't know where they were and she was sure they didn't care and if they did, they were probably happy to have her gone. She would be glad too if her annoying, insane daughter would leave forever. She sat on the edge of the motel bed, feet pressed against the dirty carpet, eyes gazing at her bag and coat, crumpled by the door and ready to go for tomorrow. She didn't even know what was in the bag, Ronnie had packed it. All she was told that there wasn't a change of clothing for her and she wouldn't need to change. Quin figured that meant she could buy some when they got there, but she doubted Ronnie had let her have any money. Admittedly, she felt curiousity tug at her heart and she slowly stood, eyes still locked on the bag. She didn't even notice the cockroach that scrambled past, which would have been the ninth one. She would have known too, she had been counting and thus far decided this was almost as gross are Tall Ronnie.

She didn't even know why she called the creepier form Tall Ronnie, there were so many more striking qualities about it that the name Tall Ronnie just proved Quin's lack of creativity. Or how stupid she was, which she figured was incredibly stupid. Whichever worked best, really.

Glancing around, Quin bent to pick up to grab the bag, but paused to chuckle. That was stupid, looking around for her? If Ronnie didn't want to be seen, she wouldn't be. Not being seen wouldn't prove that she wasn't there, but, bag now in hand, she couldn't help but glance around once more as she headed towards the bathroom, shutting the thing door behind her and locking it. She began to unzip it, falling onto the toilet lid and ignoring any and all nearby bugs, aprehension showing in her eyes as she started to pull things out, but she didn't stop. She started rummaging and pulling things out, apprehension replaced by confusion. She didn't know what half these things were or when her family got them. Or when her family got enough money to buy things this expensive looking. She didn't get much time to look at it before the screams, she hadn't noticed them before they had been so quiet, started getting louder and louder, until it quickly reached unbearable and her hands flew to her ears. She squeezed her eyes out, knowing what was happening. Ronnie knew she did what she wasn't supposed to and she was going to be punished.

Days went by, Ronnie beginning to flip out about things Quin didn't even think she had done. Each time the punishment got worse until it went from scaring her, to hitting, to being thrown about. But Quin didn't stop the trek because there wasn't any running away from Ronnie, she couldn't even escape her in her dreams.

She should have listened to the old lady with the perfume, really, but it was too late now. Too late to get help, too let to get meds for the hallucinations. Except they weren't hallucinations, so that wouldn't work anyways.

They were finally reaching Williamsburg and deep down Quin knew this was bad, she could feel her fate nearing and she knew The Fates just might cut her thread soon.

Just what she had always wanted.

A way out.

But not like this, not to whatever Ronnie was doing. And maybe, just maybe, she might not have wanted it at all. She couldn't help her mind wandering and considering what might have been if Ronnie had never come to her. If she had been lucky enough to be normal. Well, she wouldn't have had to run away from home and burn down the old Thai place as she left

"There was evidence" Ronnie had told her. Evidence of what? Quin had no idea. But she couldn't go back now. An arson, a thief, and knowing Ronnie she probably made her kill someone too and she just didn't know it yet. Considering all the crimes she probably commited and just couldn't think of at the moment, Quin figured she deserved death and might as well get over with it now anyways. They would probably send her to the chair straight away and if not, a life time in prison must be her fate.

But she was still scared. There was no denying that. Ronnie's presence had never bothered her before even though she knew Ronnie never left, but before she thought Ronnie couldn't leave. But hallucinations can't do much of anything real. But again, Ronnie wasn't a hallucination. Quin honestly had no idea what she was, but that was probably for the best. Knowing what Ronnie was would only make her try and find things out about them and then she'd have something to be scared about for when they got to Williamsburg.

There wasn't much a ghost.. demon.. thing (her?) could do in a town, right? Ronnie had seemed to not want people to see this, which was quite difference when compared to how she used to just giggle and try to get people to know about how crazy Quin was.

Was Quin crazy? Possibly, dealing with things like this had a way of making ones mind go. She kept looking for logical reasoning for why Ronnie existed or why she convinced herself she did. Maybe she had gotten kidnapped by that old creepy fellow down the street and her mind was trying to protect her from the truth. Because this was quite a splendid way to protect her, of course. By tormenting her with something just as bad.

Or was it worse? Quin didn't have much experience being kidnapped and so she couldn't say. She imagined it was worse. Was it worse to be kidnapped by a demon... ghost.. thing.. (her?) than to be kidnapped by an old pervert. Though, the pervert might try to rape her.

"No.. no ghosts can rape people too..." Quin mumbled, now deciding that a ghost would have to be worse since it could do everything an old pervert could and more. And worse.

"Who are you talking to?" Fading into view, Ronnie raised a brow as she walked beside Quin. "Shit, you are crazy"

"If you want to play that you're ten, talk like it."

"Fuck off." Admittedly, Quin liked it better when Ronnie was like this. It wasn't normal, but at least she wasn't being beat for once "We're almost there, so be ready! We're going to have lots of fun!" She giggled, just the way she did when she used to when she played pretend she was some sweet, 10 year old.. hallucination? After giggling, she rolled her eyes and faded out, just to fade in on the other side and grasp her arm "I'm hungry."

"And what am I supposed to do? Go back to Nixon and find a diner?" She paused, looking down at Ronnie quizically. It almost felt like conversations she used to have, just a bit more violent. "Hell, what do you eat anyways?"

"Normally, humans like you." Quin shot her a scared look, hoping she was kidding "No, no there's a place nearby. I can even let them see me so you don't look crazy!" She shrugged "I mean you are, but hey I should reward you for behaving for a while"

"What if I scream for help when we get there?"

"I'll kill you! Simple!" She giggled again. This time it was nothing like before. Quin never thought she'd say this, but she missed being the crazy one and not the one that might get eaten by a monster.

It took a few hours, but soon enough Quin found herself sitting in a cafe with a pretty normal, looking ten year old girl, who just happened to be bouncing up and down in her seat with a huge grin plastered on her cute face.

"Why do you get to wear clean clothing?" She complained, not bothering to cry for help with Ronnie's threat hanging over her head.

"Ghosts don't sweat, dummy." She whispered, leaning over the table in an attempt to only let Quin hear "I'm clean because I'm not a filthy human"

"Hey! I'm not filthy!" She lifted her arm to start to give the ghost the middle finger, but caught wind of her own underarm. Okay, so she was filthy. She lowered her arm, realizing that might be why no one was serving them yet. They probably thought she was a dirty bum. Wait, wasn't she? Surprisingly, she wasn't scared. She was pretty sure if she behaved she wouldn't get hurt in public, so this was the safest she had felt in weeks and she actually smiled a bit when the waiter finally came over, looking at her with little trust. Probably thought she would mug him. Bums did that, right? She was pretty sure they did that.

6 Re: Writing because yes. on Sun Dec 01, 2013 12:27 am

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The Dragonfly Symposium

Spoiler:
Nick sat in the cushioned chair, picking at the fabric covering the arm absentmindedly and staring at the man across from her. Her head rested on the palm of her free hand, her blue eyes dull with disinterest. Did this man ever stop talking? His chattering was making her head throb and she was certain it just might implode soon. She hadn’t really listened to a single word he said and she was shocked he hadn’t yet figured it out. He was just like those professors she had back at school, though he refused to believe it existed. Everyone did, even her father and mother. Why did they care anyways? They hardly talked to her anyways.

“Now, Brina, do you remember what I told you last time?” The man interrupted her daydreaming, earning a dark glare

“No, but I do remember telling you to call me Nick.” She replied, yawning slightly “Is it time for the session to end, Dave?”

“Almost. Now remember, you need to start taking your medication,  Brina.”

“Nick.”

“You can’t believe in these delusions forever.” This time Nick didn’t reply, already gazing out the window again and daydreaming. Dave, who hated her referring to him as Dave and would much prefer to be called Doctor Williams, let out a deep sigh before glancing up at the clock. Five minutes left. “Brina,”

“Nick.”

“Nick, you can leave early today. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.” She rose from her seat, picking up her small backpack, which looked more like a teddy bear, and slung it over her shoulder and took her sweet time leaving, playing with the sleeves of her baggy, purple sweatshirt on her way out. She paused at the door, staring at it for a moment before finally pushing through it and heading off to walk the path she walked at the same time, on the same day, every week, of the entire break from school. The worst part was this what she was treated to during each break. If they were so against her believing in Mystal, why was she still allowed to even go back to the school.

Hell, why hadn’t her parents bothered reading into the school. There’d been five pamphlets sent when she was invited to attend the school, but they just let her go without paying any attention to what the school was. They hadn’t even thought it strange when after her second year of go to what they assumed was just some private school she started appearing in her dreams. Of course they wouldn’t see it for what it was, of course they wouldn’t stop even then to lower themselves enough to actually talk to her. She hated this. She hated not knowing anything about her parents except that her father was gone almost all the time working as a lawyer and that her mother spent most of her time with some woman, who was apparently even more well off than they were. She used to be fine with this, back when Rosetta was an option. But Rosetta was dead.

All that was left of that sweet escape was Richard, Rosetta’s husband. Oh, and Derrek, but she had never particularly enjoyed his company. He was so hyper around her and she’d rather just stop and relax most of the time, but he couldn’t even pause long enough to enjoy so much of a page of whatever novel she happened to be reading. Quite irritating, really. So now she had trouble denying how lonely she would sometimes get, not even going back to Mystal really ever solved it. She didn’t have all too many friends and her classes were usually the highlight of her day. Potions especially, boy did she love potions. Except when they forced a partner on her, they were usually imbeciles.

But according to Dave, none of that mattered. None of it was real, she was probably just convinced chemistry was potions. Because potions didn’t exist.

Magic didn’t exist. Vampires Didn’t Exist. Potions class didn’t exist, and mortal studies certainly did not exist.

Mystal did not exist. Or at least that’s what Dave insisted. Richard probably didn’t believe either, but he was still too depressed to stop her either way. She liked Richard. Richard was calm and didn’t make her talk unless she wanted to, she could sit in silence and it seemed to explain more than anything else ever did.

Dreaming of You

Spoiler:
Magpie sat atop the haystack, her long red hair tied into a braid that just reached her bum. She had slung it over her shoulder to avoid sitting on it and she now sat staring through the large hole in the barn’s wall, which she and Sharon had caused over the summer, and kept thinking back to Adam. She had promised to write him when she moved to America and she had for about a year, four and a half months, and about three weeks, three days, and 13 minutes. The thirteen minutes being the last letter she had never finished and now pulled out of her bra to read. Every day since she had stopped writing Adam, she had would wake up in the morning and stuff it down into her bra. That was 1,460 days of the uncomfortable paper against her skin and 730 days of slipping it out and rereading what she had wanted to say, 1,460 days of grasping onto the last remnant of the girl she once was. A girl who blushed whenever she grasped the fact someone loved her the way Adam did, which she still had trouble picking up on. An innocent girl who never once thought about drinking, let alone falling into the clutches of alcoholism as she had at the age of 16.
Sometimes it was just hard, comparing the beautiful girl who had all of her father’s attention, friends who truly cared for her, and most importantly had a boy as sweet as Adam to whom she was now. While she was a million times happier in a way, she felt she was happy for all the wrong reasons and kept asking herself if the happiness was even truly real. She would never have gotten better without those damnable drugs and none of this would have happened if she had never been given the prescription and she was damn glad the doctors had taken them away. She was happy her father made her give up who she had considered her friends, or at least she would always claim she would. Sure, she had made new ones, two new ones to be exact, but those fools she used to hang out with wouldn’t stop bugging her, practically delivering death threats when a rumor arose claiming she had told someone what the others were up to.
For now though, in the somewhat safety of Sharon’s grandparents’ stinky old barn on their stinky, boring old farm, she focused on the letter she had never finished, The fabric was wrinkled and had tears from being opened so much. Sighing, she focused on the curly handwriting. God, had she really dotted her i’s with hearts when she was still writing him? She wrinkled her nose, thinking that maybe stopping writing him had done her some good and laughed after a moment, but it was half hearted. She regretted not writing him and missed being able to talk to him. She couldn’t help but wonder if her father still had some of the letters she had made him keep in his room since they’d get lost in hers. Didn’t Adam leave his number on one of them? Shaking her head, she decided that was a thought for another day,
No, she decided, calling him would be a terrible idea. Four years with no contact or even a single sign she still cared and then just getting some random call? She doubted she even sounded the same. Her voice had not only matured, but had grown weary after everything that had happened. So instead of calling, she let a shaky breath out before tearing the letter down the middle. She needed to let go and move on, even if those addicts she had met might haunt her dreams forever more. Clinging to her childhood would never help and it was time to move on, she had Sharon and Mason. Which was almost kind of as good? She supposed they would have to do, especially since she was supposed to be spending the day with them. Something about Mason saving from the awful amount of boredom and taking them to the nearest anything asap.
Which soon turned out to be right then and there, Sharon crashing in through the large doors with a chipper Mason following behind. Sharon’s smile melted away when she saw where Magpie had decided to sit.
“And of course Magpie is gonna arrive in the city smelling like whatever animal’s shit is in that hay.” Sharon spoke, shaking her head and grabbing Magpie’s arm to pull her up to her feet. “Completely disgusting.”
“Oh shut up. All I smell like is that freaking apple blossom shampoo you forced on me.” Magpie wasn’t even sure what apple blossoms were or what the point of a scented shampoo were. Shouldn’t her hair smell like hair, not food? A horse had tried to eat her hair at one point during the day which didn’t brighten her view of the filthy animals any.
Magpie pulled her arm free of Sharon’s death grip and walked in the direction of his burgundy car, growing ever more nervous the closer she went. She hated cars, they were like these metal death traps and she would rather stick her head into a lion’s mouth. She would be less scared that way, but either way she set in the back and tried to make herself stay calm. She didn’t want Sharon to see what a coward she was and she didn’t want to ruin Mason’s day with a panic attack.
So she sat in the back of the large car, gripping her seat belt until her knuckles turned white, her skin as pale as the snow, and feeling like she was going to lose that breakfast she didn’t eat. She refused to draw any attention to it, less Sharon make fun of her and Mason call of whatever he had planned just so she wouldn’t have to ride in the car. That would just make Sharon even angrier, anyways. Even with all the self control that she displayed on the ride over, she couldn’t resist rushing out of the car and just crumpling on the ground and shaking.

7 Re: Writing because yes. on Thu Dec 12, 2013 12:20 pm

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Old story is sort of old (like a little under a year, I wrote it in mayish so only a few months off from a year. 5ish?)

Enslaved
Spoiler:
The wooden walls of the tiny cabin seemed to moan and cry as it’s roof was pelted with rain, the harsh wind blowing between the planks that made the walls. Animals ran in fear for they knew what fate awaited them on the horizon.. they could could tell what dark twisted being came for the girl, tainting the land as it flew overhead. It searched for it’s.. home, a small crying girl locked within the cabin with what any elf saw as a madman. The things he did to her were far too despicable for even me to speak of, so I will leave it at that.. but what came for the girl would help her get revenge on the foul man, though she’d have to pay the creature back in full.

The floorboards creaked and the girl whimpered, crouching as she moved further into her hiding place in an attempt to get away from the foul man who smelled like month old alcohol mixed with the stench one could only get from.. certain strenuous activities such as he forced on the teen. She knew the man would tear the house apart to get his property, he had bought her and legally too. Selling and buying elves had long since stopped being illegal, for the humans saw them as nothing other than beautiful possessions to use for their own pleasure or to show off the wealth they had. An elf like her, one with such long, wavy, blonde hair that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight was worth a hefty price and he had spent such a large amount of his money on her. Her thin waist and perfect nails made the price go up to, so had her shining leaf green eyes. The way she had smiled with pride when she was chosen had shone off her shiny white teeth. The poor girl had no idea what would await her when she got to the man’s house, but she had heard good things about what happened to even those destined to be used as-to put it bluntly-whores. While all they were to the humans was property, they were treated like some sort of important item and fed well. They were given fine clothing and taken care off, but it was never done for them. It was done so they’d continue to be the pretty little whore their new master had paid for.

Unfortunately, her master was nothing like that. He got his sick thrills from tormenting her, cutting her with his blade and watching the blood drip before he had his way with her. Some of the things he did were even worse and I will not mention them in case the idea of anything such as that makes you queasy because it is incredibly gruesome. The girl’s once beautiful, long hair was choppy and short, slicked back against her head with dried blood. Her blood. Her green dress she was bought in.. well, she couldn’t even wear it  anymore. He had destroyed it the day he brought her home, having been in a hurry to get right down to business and see if she was worth the money he had bought.

Her small quivering frame bumped against the wardrobe and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying he hadn’t heard the wardrobe move. He stopped right in front of her hiding place and slowly his lips pulled back in a twisted grin. He had found what he was looking for, his toy was only a few feet away from him. The elf had only opened her eyes in time to see him approaching her, not noticing the lanky, dark creature behind him. But she did and her eyes went wide at the sight of a creature with pitch black skin that seemed to twist like violent storm clouds or a horrible tornado as the creature flew through her master and straight for her. Maybe from fear or from blood loss-the girl still had open wounds-she passed out just as the creature reached her, cackling


She opened her eyes, well.. at least she believed she did. For all she knew she was imagining that she was awake and she surely was. This was not the hovel she had been inside when she had seen that horrifying creature. This land was.. different. It was if she was within the creature, surrounded by a black swirling mass. There was something terrifyingly calming about wherever she was, though a whole lot of emphasis really ought to be put on terrifying. For the moment she thought it was silent, but realized that for some reason she had only not noticed a slight deep wail in the distance. No other options, she looked for the wails source. As she stepped forward the dark clouds parted to let the shaking elf step through, though they gently twisted themselves around her arms and legs. The bits that were attaching themselves to her, wrapping around her limbs and some simple attached themselves like tentacles, sticking themselves to her flesh. They clung on and she panicked, momentarily trying to shake them and tear them off. After a while she realized it wasn’t worth the attempt. It wouldn’t work so she continued forth, growing too distracted to notice as the clouds slowly and painlessly sank into her. Soon the moaning turned to whispers, promising to free her from her.. owner. As if they had access to her memories, they reminded her of what he had done to her, urging her to accept it’s foul offer.

The whispers got louder as the girl noticed a tall spiraling structure made from the shadows and it was as if it called to her, drawing her to discover what was in it’s depths. She froze as she neared the entrance, a landscape forming around her. The shadows from behind her rushed forward in blobs and sank into the whiteness, forming a sky and a grassy hill leading to the tower. It was as if they mimicked the colours of the real world, but were all so much darker than reality. The grass, which where she was born was always a light colour, was such a dark green it almost appeared to be black. The same could be said of the sky, appearing stormy though that hadn’t been the shadows’ intention. They had even attempted to form a sun to shine down on the field, as if trying to make everything appear calm so the girl would stop being quite so panicky.

She truly didn’t want to enter the tower, but there was no other options left for her. The way shadows had formed a barrier blocking her path back. Not that there was anything back there and if there was, she was certain whatever it was wouldn’t help her get out of.. whatever this strange place was. She hoped.. no, she prayed to the many elven gods that the way to be rid of this place was within the tower for if it wasn’t she’d be trapped forever, of that she was certain.

8 Re: Writing because yes. on Sun Dec 15, 2013 4:20 pm

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Homecoming of Despair

Spoiler:
Eden ran again. He had lost count of how many times he had runaway from his problems, but today that wasn’t what he would do. He ran back to the what had caused him so much sorrow, he ran to the family he abandoned. He ran to the source of many of his problems and this time he wouldn’t leave without the assurance that Nikki was okay. Not until Jeannette, the twins, and Nikki were no longer were in that kind of situation. Hell, he’d take them with him if he had to. Who cared if River and Forrest were only seven and would have a bit of trouble remembering him. He knew Jeannette would, hard not to when she was the one treating wounds from the unneeded fighting he got into.

Thinking about the happier moments always brought a grin to his face, but he wasn’t going there for any happy reasons. He was going to do the right thing, he was going to protect Nikki and this time he wouldn’t leave without the very people he had spent all his life trying to protect.

When he reached his small hometown, he slowed, fear squeezing his heart. This was just as bad as going back to Brone to get something. Either way, failure meant death or worse, having to stay there again. If he got stuck there again, if he failed his siblings again, he’d wish he was dead.

After a while of walking, ignoring anything that distracted him, including his hunger, he arrived at the house. The person he had been in contact for ages, who had only just decided that telling him that his siblings were no better off than they had been before, had said they still lived there and they certainly did. He stopped at the door, fear squeezing every ounce of his being. This was why he never let himself get attached to people anymore. He always did something stupid. Like coming back here. He wasn’t strong. He was weak.

How the hell would he actually help his siblings?

His father had never been particularly strong either, he mainly had played off their fear. He had always been too scared to fight back. Maybe if he wasn’t scared he could do this. So he stood, pausing to lean his body against the door, trying to quiet his rapidly beating heart and trying to gulp down every last piece of fear he felt. He realized he needed to hurry, but it wasn’t until he heard crying that he actually reacted and started trying to slam the door open. A sharp inhale of pain let him know that this wasn’t going to work so instead he picked up a rock and smashed it through the window.

He smashed more of it out with another rock until he could reach through and unlock the door without cutting himself. This was his return, a homecoming of despair. He pushed open the door, eyes falling on the now nine year old twins. River grinned momentarily when she saw him, but quickly enough her face fell, Forrest leaving their hiding spot and running to him.

“I told you Dannie would come back!” The boy whispered, grabbing Eden.

Eden sighed, shaking his head at Forrest. He was honestly surprised the twins were able to recognize him.

“Forrest, who was crying?” Before he left his voice was always gentle when he spoke to his siblings, but now it was cold. It was clear why he had come to River, though Forrest was a bit slower than his sister and just thought he came back to see them. He was quite the slow boy, actually.

“Nikki? Why a-where are you going?” Eden’s face hardened when he heard that it was Nikki. If that bastard was hurting her..

“To find her.”

With that he left the twins, glancing back to see River telling Forrest not to follow him. He heard her whisper that he was going to where their father was and that it was safer to stay out here. The last thing he heard from the pair was Forrest asking why Eden was going near him, he’d just get hurt all over again.

He knew it would be hard for anyone to stand. Why would he ever leave such a good situation he was finally in to come back here. Guilt, love, and an incredibly desire for his siblings to be safe. How sane would this seem to anyone not in the same situation? These reasons that drove him back here, that made him search through the house.

The reason he snapped when he saw his father hitting NIkki and threw himself at his father, yelling indecipherably. Hitting and punching, it took his father a minute, but he turned the tables, pining Eden and hitting him relentlessly. Nikki had crawled out of the cross hairs and sat crumpled, watching and crying.
probably not going to finish

9 Re: Writing because yes. on Tue Mar 11, 2014 10:54 pm

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Writing a story and getting ready for camp nano'

Spoiler:
The group seemed so very uncomfortable around each other, each avoiding the other's gazes though they were all equally curious about one another. All were prisoners, each hoping to be freed upon their return to the city. It was likely they'd just have run if it wasn't for their escorts, who were also considered part of the party by the Lord of the estate they had wronged. None knew that the others had received the same promise, except for the guards who were forced to tag along, just to make sure the task was completed.

It wasn't supposed to be anything hard, just a handful of orc mercenaries. Something the group of six should have no problem cutting down, that is if they all tried. Wren, a human girl who didn't seem to even be of age, wasn't so sure that some would, especially not that Thrive fellow. She was pretty sure she saw that Elvish freak trying to run off instead of completing the task.

Admittedly, it might be easier to escape instead of earning their freedom, but Wren for one certainly wanted to earn it. In fact, she felt she had to earn it. She owed it to those she had hurt to make it up and she would do everything in her power to do so, which was of course easier said than done when you're a seventeen year old girl with no control over your powers except for lighting torches from a distance. Which would be so very useful in a fight, when everyone else would be shooting arrows and swinging swords she could sit at the back, waving a lit torch back and forth in front of her in an attempt to  keep orcs off of her. That'd be lovely. If she did survive, she'd survive as the girl known as the one who lit her hair on fire trying to fight. That'd be a brilliant way to live with her new found freedom.

Currently, Wren sat watching the campfire burn on and on. A guard sat nearby, eyes on her body, though he didn't plan on trying anything, though if he did want to there wouldn't be much Wren could do about it and she highly doubted anyone else from the group would so much as bat an eyelash. A R'thraki, one of those folk with skin as hard as rock and were as tall as a short tree, crouched on the ground near the fire, sweeping his fingers through it in a state of boredom. He must have been quite old, as all older R'thraki in Neshyrea had jagged rocks growing at their joints and replacing their hair, eyebrows, mustaches, and all. His eyes had taken the look of always been glazed over and Wren had once heard that the oldest of R'thraki had lava for blood.

If that was true, she was certain this fellow had the hottest of lava running through his veins. His body was more sharp, jagged rock than smooth and skin like like the younger beings of his kind and his eyes were so glazed it was hard to tell how he could focus through them, but it was easy to tell that he somehow managed it because every now and then he looked through the fire, glaring at Thrive who grinned in response, speaking and saying something most likely geared at irritating the fearsome creature further. Wren watched the two, the R'thraki  growling something at Thrive and Thrive throwing another clever comment at him.

There were more people than that, though. Races of every kind littered their camp and Wren felt they should probably be suspicious of why so many were needed for something that was supposedly so simple, but she wasn't. Probably just doing as many people a favor as she could, she thought, which was an incredibly foolish and naive thought and it was thoughts such as that which kept landing her into troubling situations, such as getting throw into a dungeon for a crime she wasn't even sure she had committed. But she was certain that their prince wouldn't just punish anyone for any reason (look at that, another naive thought)

They had been all sitting in silence for so long that when someone actually spoke to her, Wren nearly fell off the log because she jumped so high and whirled her head, looking at the three nearest to her until she located the source of the jibe. Thrive, now why wasn't she shocked?

"D-D'ya need something?" She asked, biting down into her lip, gaze flickering up and down, taking in more of the long ear'd man's appearance. He had short, mud brown hair and dirty, pale skin. Not very flattering, which was a pity since he seemed like he might be attractive if he didn't look so underfed.

Def. going to finish :)I'd tell you all a bit about the plot, but..

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