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Ariel's Tomb of Woe [ filled with elongated rants, dark poetry, and writing galore ]
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Mod
So, my friend has a fanfiction online, she appreciates reviews.
There's an anime called D. Gray Man and she writes fanfictions about the characters (it's mostly Yaoi, do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with boyxboy or girlxgirl or cursing.)
Thanks for helping out!
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3910457/E...
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRMevG...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2eCHd...
Album: Red (2012)
# on Album: 4
Genre: Pop
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18phEY...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpROjf...
Album: Feel Good Now (2011)
# on Album: 5
Genre: Pop
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NKUpo...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S548oh...
Album: Lights
# on Album: 11 (iTunes bonus track)
Genre: Pop/Alternative (slightly)
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3MpYu...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv40zi...
Album: (not on an album)
# on Album: (not on an album)
Genre: Pop
Mod
I open the chest
inside, I find a note.
On a piece of paper,
3x3 paper.
Nothing special.
In the note, there is but one word:
Broken.
What is broken?
The clasps of this chest?
The crack at the top?
The inside? Its soul?
Next to the word, there is one
Single
Drop of
Blood. Fresh,
I realize that the chest is bleeding.
From the sides, it runs down to
fill the bottom.
There are words, angry words:
Disruption.
Miscommunication.
Discipline.
The top of the chest is covered
with splatters of
Red.
Red everywhere.
Words everywhere.
The chest is pulling me inside.
My heart feels like it will not
last long.
Shallow breaths,
Chest closing,
I am going mad.
Finally, crack!
Something in me snaps.
My heart has broken in two,
And no chest clasps can fix it.
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t7fmV...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y9XTH...
Album: Sticks + Stones (2011)
# on Album: 7
Genre: Rap/Pop
Mod
Also, I have a new writing blog on Tumblr
Here's the URL: literaryluhan.tumblr.com
Check that out? And I think that's all of my updates for tonight?
Mod
Listen to the song here if you would like: http://chillyobuns.tumblr.com/post/51...
Rule number one, is that you gotta have fun,
But baby when you’re done, you gotta be the first to run
Lucy stared down at – no, more like the blank page stared at Lucy as if she were an alien species sent down from Mars to write a manual for the bad ones. The bad ones. Hah. More like the good girls that haven’t been caught, because that’s just what the bad ones were. They were the alien species, always covering up, always sneaking around, always doing the things that Lucy Emilia-Clarke Hamilton just didn’t approve of. Sighing softly, she looked around the room. She wrinkled her nose a bit as the smell of rotten eggs and red wine overpowered her sense of smell. Turning back to the paper that was almost invisible due to the horrible lighting in the room, a drop of ink splattered onto the paper and Lucy silently cursed her love of writing with ink. Dipping her feather into the swirling ebony liquid, she didn’t let the ink drop and started to write down the steps to becoming one of the bad ones; the “heartbreakers” as they were now known as.
Rule number two, just don’t get attached to,
Somebody you could lose
So le-let me tell you
She didn’t want any of this to happen. Nothing ever happened the way that she wanted it to. Walking quickly down the street, Lucy looked behind her briefly, wondering aloud if looking back was something that she wanted to do. Turning back around to face the front, she ran head-first into a tall and muscular man who’s solid black shirt smelled a little like- “Lucy,” the man breathed. Eyes widening and watering at the same time, Lucy turned in the other direction and walked the other way, not even noticing how the man hadn’t gone running after her. He just stood there, illuminated by the single street lamp, the white light casting a ghost-like mask upon his face. She shouldn’t have gotten attached; she had broken rule number two. Placing a smack on her forehead, Lucy stopped walking and breathed in the chill night air. She had lost everything, and something told her that she wasn’t ever going to get it back.
This is how to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like a little danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
Training? Is that what they called it? Two young girls – probably around 16 or 17 – walked arm-in-arm down the street, two men older than them by at least four years trailing behind them like lost love-sick puppies in need of a cuddle. Scoffing, Lucy sipped at her coffee and stared at the manual that she had written five years prior to the present day, the cover hinting at nothing, for it was only a bright red lipstick mark on a white page that was slightly burnt around the edges. Raising an eyebrow at the girls again, Lucy flipped open to the seventh page, randomly skimming over the words. Rule #144: Boys like a little danger. Well, well, well, that sure was the truth, wasn’t it? She couldn’t help but wonder why that wasn’t the very first rule. Bright blue eyes rising again to peek over the edge of her new reading glasses, she watched as the girls leaned into each other and whispered. As they giggled, Lucy could see the love that was slowly eating away at the men. Have fun, girls. Don’t let these heartbreaks affect you, or else you certainly won’t be fit to become one of us.
How to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
At least I think I do!
Flipping open the cheap mirror that she had found tucked away in her pocket the morning after returning home from a local club, Lucy carefully added a little flourish to the edges of her eyes. Satisfied with her eyes, she placed a bright red kiss onto the mirror, closed it, and tucked it back into her purse. So. This was her new life, was it? Get kicked out of the gang, drown in your tears, and eventually pick yourself back up just to drink and smoke your life away? Not realizing that the gang was a big part of her life was a huge mistake. It had become her love, her job, her world, and now that it was gone, what was Miss Hamilton to do? Do what any self-loathing person would do, and throw away the life that was already broken and smash it into the ground again and again and again, ensuring that no one could ever repair it again.
Cause I lo-lo-lo-love you.
The three cursed words tripped over her mind, stumbled around on her tongue, and finally fell out of her mouth ungracefully. Too soon, Lou. What are you thinking? She wasn’t thinking, that was the thing. “Uh, I mean, I don’t love you, I like you more than I should, and, no, I, uh, I mean, uh, I don’t like you, I hate you, and we both know that that’s a big fat lie, oh gosh, um, okay, let me try this again, uh, hm, well, uh, I love you? No, that’s a question, I don’t love love you, I just love you, a single love? Oh, um, I mean…” As Lucy stumbled over her words, she stepped backwards, black stilettos clicking against the ground, causing torture upon Lucy’s pierced seven times over ears. Wincing because of the sensitivity of the situation, a tear fell out of her eye as she found the words that she was looking for. “I love you, but I can’t love you.” And with that leaving more questions than answers in Lucy’s mind, she abandoned her mind and went off in search of a new purpose.
Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek
But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat
“A manual? What kind of manual?”
“I think you know what kind of manual.”
Lucy looked around at the four girls claiming to be the best in the heartbreaking business. “You want me to write a manual on how to be a heartbreaker?”
“Well, no, not exactly. Since you’re the last one we’ll ever employ, we need to know the rules. We aren’t going to be together any longer, and we want to pass on this rule book to something who we think deserves it, and once you write it, you can decide who that person is going to be.”
A dumbstruck Lucy stared at the four girls in front of her, ranging from ages 15-34. They were all like her, they had gone through what Lucy had gone through. Heartbreak, angst, and anger overcame them, and they founded this-this-this gang of some sort and they wanted the men to get a taste of their own medicine. “Why am I joining you guys again?”
“Because,” the oldest one said. She looked up at Lucy from behind her huge hood, effectively shielding her eyes and only revealing ruby red lips. “You want to rebuild your life, do you not?” Placing a chaste kiss in the center of first of one hundred blank pages, she handed the stack to Lucy. “Do you not?” she repeated, gesturing for the other three girls to hand a mascara brush, a lipstick tube, and a hair curler to Lucy.
And the only acceptable answer was to take the gifts offered to her and give a slight nod.
Rule number four, gotta be looking pure
Kiss him goodbye at the door and leave him wanting more-more
First day on the job. It went splendidly horrendous. A ripped dress was the only thing that Lucy got out of the whole night. Plopping herself down on the couch, Lucy grabbed a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth. She turned slightly and smacked her hand down onto her phone and she reached across the couch to her headphones. Blaring Pierce the Veil in her ears on full volume, she put her feet up and bobbed her head to the music. She was sure that the events of the night would be all over the news and papers tomorrow and all Lucy wanted to do right then was sleep and sleep and sleep.
This is how to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like a little danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
An explosive sound echoed in Lucy’s ears as she watched the car flip over onto the cement and skid on for a few more miles. The dynamite worked. A smacking sound interrupted her thoughts and almost immediately a searing pain spread from her ear to her lip. The metallic taste of blood filled Lucy’s mouth and she looked up at the woman in front of her. Her mouth moved but Lucy heard nothing except for the explosion sounds repeating over and over in her ears. “I didn’t do it,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know what the woman had asked her. Another sharp smack resounded in her ears and this time Lucy wavered on her feet slightly; something she hadn’t done in a while.
How to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
At least I think I do!
“You’re sure you want this?” Lucy asked the girl who was holding up a candle, the flame way too close to the young girl’s face for Lucy’s comfort. Taking the girl’s wrist and lowering the candle slightly, her face became shrouded in darkness once again. Ruby red lips were all that the girl could probably see, Lucy was sure of that. “Uh, uh, well…”
“You’re not ready,” Lucy stated simply and wandered away, grabbing the candle from the girl. “I thought I found one,” she muttered under her breath.
“Why not me?” the girl called after Lucy. Stopping abruptly, Lucy turned her head to the side and smiled evilly, the candle reflecting off of her shiny lip gloss.
“You hesitated.”
Cause I lo-lo-lo-love you.
Tell me what to do. Please, tell me what to do. No, wait don’t tell me what to do. He broke me. I was broken but he broke me again. I let him get to me, that much is for sure. What do I do? Do I turn to a new life? Is it possible to find a new life? I’m a broken toy; I’m kind of a mess. What have I been doing? What was I thinking? Stupid question, I know. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve never seriously thought about anything my entire life. But, the question still remains. What do I do? Why won’t anyone just tell me what to do? It’s not like I have a goal in mind. I have no more home, it’s all gone.
Girls, we do, whatever it will take
Cause girls don’t want, we don’t want our hearts to break
In two, so it’s better to be fake
Can’t risk losing in love again babe.
This is how to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like a little danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
How to be a heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
We’ll get him falling for a stranger, a player
Singing I lo-lo-love you
Cause I lo-lo-lo-love you.
At least I think I do!
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NB5jyY...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MyjQR...
Album: 2ne1 2nd Mini Album (2011)
# on Album: 4
Genre: K-pop (Korean pop)/pop/foreign
Mod
Tap tap tap tap tap.
“Hold the door!”
Brianna’s hand shot out between the elevator doors, praying silently in her head that she still looked composed, and that she wouldn’t scream if the doors disobeyed her command and slammed shut on her hand. It’s not a regular door, idiots, but call it what you want, Brianna’s subconscious told the four people who were crowding into the small elevator all at once. Brianna cleared her throat and mentally slapped herself for standing so close to the elevator buttons as four different hands and an overwhelming scent of cologne, alcohol, perfume, and that new car smell took over her five senses. The hands pressed the floor buttons of 1, 2, 3, 4, and Brianna sighed as she pressed the fifth button. An elderly woman shot a warm smile at Brianna and Brianna sighed in return before a weak curve of her thin lips greeted the woman’s smiling face. She looked back at the silver doors and looked over her reflection in the polished metal. She shuffled around a bit and hoisted her bag up higher onto her shoulder, not able to stand still in the cramped space. A chorus of more shuffling came up from behind Brianna and she rolled her eyes at the sudden noise. She pursed her lips and listened to the completely off-beat rhythm that the business man was tapping on his shiny Rolex watch.
Tap tap tap tap.
As the elevator came to its fourth grinding halt, Brianna wiped the small beads of sweat off of her forehead, and lowered her head as the business man walked out of elevator briskly. She stood her ground, only breathing out fully once the man was out of eyesight and the elevator doors slid shut once more. She leaned against the cool, silver metal of the spacious elevator wall and closed her eyes. The opening of the elevator doors for the fifth time made Brianna open her eyes quickly, straighten her bag, and walk out of the elevator quickly. Four long, even strides and Brianna was at the door of the room that she dreaded going into. She had been putting the deadline off, day after day, week after week, until her boss couldn’t take it anymore and put her high-ranking job on the line. Straightening her A-line skirt, she hugged her bag close to her chest and tried to put the thought of her demanding idiot of a boss out of her mind. A few more erratic steps to turn her body to the heavy door, and she knocked four times.
Tap tap tap.
As Brianna walked into the room, she was met with the horrifying sight of a morbidly overweight woman hovering over the supposedly sick young girl who was supposed to sign the papers that weighed Brianna’s bag down like a rock. The clearing of a throat made Brianna turn around quickly and then sigh in relief, as her colleague was right behind her, sitting in a very uncomfortable-looking chair. Walking towards him, she bent down to whisper in his ear the question that had been nagging at her ever since her boss had told her that he would be there with her: “Are you going to pull the plug?”
It had been ages since Brianna had been out like this, working in the field, and she had set very high standards for herself. Such was the life of a secret agent, such was the life. Her colleague shook his head slightly and brought his lips to her ear before Brianna could protest. “He said that you were going to do that. He has cloud nine hopes for you, Brianna.”
“I can’t kill an innocent-“
“You’re not going to kill an innocent woman, per say. She’s not innocent, Brianna. She never was. That’s what you’re going to do today.” Looking at him with confusion written all over her face, Brianna took a seat beside him and barely got comfortable before the obese woman called her over. Sighing in defeat, Brianna sat down elegantly on the opposite side of the hospital bed and waited for instructions.
“This is my daughter.”
I can see that, you insolent fool.
“She’s very sick.”
Like you’re bound to be if you don’t stop eating. What does your diet consist of? I bet you ate your equally fat husband in your divorce.
“My husband and I are divorced.”
I think we’re starting to understand why he left you.
“Those papers that you have in your bag tell you all about our family history, right?”
I wish they didn’t.
Without waiting for an answer, the woman continued her small speech in her gravelly voice, breath stinking of French fries and raw meat. “Our daughter has been involved in some sort of top secret government stuff that we weren’t allowed to know about. She’ll sign those legal papers and I get full custody of her?”
“That’s correct.”
“So, what are you waiting for? Hand over those files and let’s get a move on!”
Brianna’s colleague spoke up from his seat in the back. “Miss, her hands are incapable of moving. She’s paralyzed from the neck down.” Brianna nodded curtly and tried to guess how the young sixteen-year-old was going to sign these papers as she handed a pen to the mother.
“Okay, Bee, you just take the pen in between your teeth, yes, yes, that’s it, good girl…”
Brianna’s hand shook slightly as the woman grabbed the papers from her hand and held them in front of the girl’s face. “Just sign right… right here, you know, sign, okay that’s one letter, good job Bee, only two more to go…”
As the mother coaxed her daughter to write her name on the paper, Brianna’s hand inched towards the plug that was currently powering whatever machine it was that was keeping the sickly girl alive. Wrapping her fingers around it, she looked at her colleague from the corner of her eye. With half of his face shrouded in shadow from the setting sun, she saw him give her a quick nod and a slight smile. With those two gestures in mind, Brianna quickly pulled the plug from the socket with a quick jerk of her hand. The teenager’s heart monitor began giving out beeping and warning signals that sounded like they were written in Morse code. “What did you do?!” the mother screeched at the top of her lungs to no one in particular. “You pulled the plug!”
“Miss, I didn’t-“
“She pulled the plug, she pulled the plug, she pulled the plug!”
Tap tap.
As Brianna came close to the elevator doors, she heard scuffling coming from behind her. “You little-“ and the rest of the sentence was muffled. She pressed the down button twice and waiting impatiently, foot tapping the sequence that the heart monitor was giving out. As she leaned her head against the elevator door, a low growl escaped her mouth and a single tear that burned like acid ran down her left cheek.
Tap.
As the elevator doors finally closed, Brianna could hear the heart monitor giving out one single beep, one that signalized that the girl was dead. The beep was cut short by the sound of the elevator doors clicking together solidly, but up until then, all Brianna could hear by the annoying high-pitched squeals of the machine was the word liar.
Mod
Are you loved? Do you feel loved? To answer that, we must first consider the meaning of love. What is love?
Love is a feeling that is caused by our subconscious. Love is a four letter word. Love is constantly overrated, not to mention it’s an overused word. You know that you love someone when you can’t stop thinking about them. They’re on your mind constantly and you can’t seem to get enough of them in your thoughts. You want to know the worst part? You know that you can never have them next to you, ever. And it hurts. It makes you physically sick, but you love them so much. It sounds cliché, but you love them so much that it hurts. It hurts that you can never be in your happy place which is filled with nothing but thoughts of you and them and your perfect life together. It makes me sick. Me, personally. I get a migraine when I think about them. My stomach feels like it’s turned inside out and like I’m going to vomit, and they won’t be there to repeatedly tell me that they love me and hold my hair back as I’m bent over the toilet head-first. There will be no wedding vows, there will be no feeling of love, there will be nothing. But, that’s where hope will be. You’ve always got to hope that one day, you will be loved in return. They’ll love you for you, and that’s all that will matter at that point. We all want to be loved, we all want to say that, yes, we’re actually happy, and yes, we are in love. You know deep in your heart that you are loved, and you know deep in the pit of your stomach that you are giving the same amount of love back. Love is an unconditional feeling; something you just can’t get over. You can like someone, you can dislike someone, you can lust after someone, you can hate someone, but love? Love is different. No one knows how, and no one knows why, but I’m saying this. Love is a four letter word. Hate and hope are four letter words as well. Love is overused, and overrated. And love is the only thing that’s keeping me from going absolutely insane, although I think I’m already madly head-over-heels in love.
Mod
Dear Carolina,
Times are tough. Not a good way to start a letter, I know, but what can you do? Anyway, how are you? Are you eating? Supply for yourself first before thinking of anyone else, foolish girl. You’re too nice, too forgiving. This world, this life, is going to chew you up and spit you out. Keep thinking of others, but don’t get sick because you’re not focusing on your well-being.
Do you still want to become an actress? How many times I’ve told you to follow your dream, and you always seem to store my words into the back of your brain and leave them there, like trash. Well, I’ll tell you something, Carolina. You go out there and you follow your dream, and don’t let anybody stop you. If they hold you back, throw them in the gutter. This is coming from a woman who knows. Sweet, sweet Carolina, if only you knew how times are tough. You live the simple life, be grateful for that. You’re smart though, figure it out. The industrial times are here, Carolina. Smoke is filling the city and its spreading to the countryside.
Do you still live in the countryside? The smoke probably won’t get to you, Carolina. You live off the radar completely, child. Tell that mother of yours to quit hanging around doing nothing all day. All she does is sleep, drink, and talk nonsense. I fear she’s going mad.
Oh, I do hope you’re eating. Your father, he was a good man. He always found a way to get food for the family, he did. He passed away so young, too. Probably to get away from his whining wife. I know I would have gladly moved on if I had been living with her for twenty years.
How old are you? Twenty-four, correct? And still no husband, no love life? Don’t you work? Go out and meet someone, Carolina. Please, I beg of you. Give me nieces and nephews before I die, won’t you? Make me happy, Carolina.
Oh, dear Carolina. I miss you.
Sincerely,
Aunt Maggie
Carolina finished reading over the letter one last time before gently folding it in half and placing it back underneath the cot that she had been sleeping on since she was sixteen. As she got up, she wiped her hands on the flimsy white apron that covered her thin skirt and even thinner legs. Without warning, her eyes looked towards the sky and blinked away the hot tears that burnt in the back of her head. “I’m sorry, Aunt Maggie,” she whispered to the heavens above her head, then started out of the small room that housed all five Montgomery siblings.
The house was small, placed in the countryside, far from any civilization, which was a fact that Aunt Maggie had so kindly touched upon. It was small and housed six people. It was a cramped space and the routine that everyone went through every day was practically carved into the chipping walls. The land was covered in waist-high grasses that blew gently in the continuous breeze that surrounded the countryside. Rain would come down in large bursts for a few weeks once every year before drying the area once again. Carolina was used to the sun, but she wanted darker days, more rain. The sound of the constant tap tap tap on her windowsill calmed her nerves until she hardly realized that she was already in dreamland.
Today was one of those rare rain days.
Small footsteps startled Carolina out of her trance and she snapped back into reality just as quickly as she had slipped back into her own little world. Two large eyes round with wonder and curiosity stared out at Carolina expectantly. Carolina smiled at her younger sister and knelt down in front of her, trying to meet the younger’s eyes. “I haven’t seen you all day, Paige. Where did you run off to?” Carolina asked the youngest daughter softly.
Paige’s pupils dilated as she started dreamily out of the small window placed on the ceiling. “I was out enjoying the rain,” she answered her older sister with a small, crooked smile.
“You’re not even wet, silly girl. You’re positively dry to the bone.”
“I enjoyed the water from under the awning, Cara.” Paige gave Carolina the nickname when she was but a baby and couldn’t pronounce the second part of said girl’s name. Carolina smiled at the familiar name and brushed her sister’s hair out of her face.
“I see,” Carolina whispered. The Montgomery family did not have an awning.
“I came to talk to you,” Paige stated with a sudden burst of confidence. Carolina arched an eyebrow elegantly and smoothed out the invisible wrinkles on her sister’s skirt with one hand.
“What about?”
“I want to know what your hopes and dreams are.”
“Me? Why don’t you ask Mother?”
“Because I fear Mother has no hopes and dreams.”
This child is certainly wise beyond her years, Carolina thought with a small huff of air.
“Alright. When I grow up, I want to become an actress.”
“Aren’t you already grown up?”
“You’re never too old to stop growing up,” Carolina whispered to her sister with a sly smile. Paige giggled and Carolina poked at her sister’s dimples. “In all seriousness, though, it would be lovely. To be up on that stage and see the lights and the people who appreciate what I do. It’d be like magic. Absolute magic.”
“Complete with fairies and sparkles?”
“Magic complete with fairies and sparkles,” Carolina agreed with her sister. There were some places in the big cities that had large theaters that could seat more than one thousand people. My life is too boring, Carolina thought sullenly as she watched her sister prance around their shared room pretending to shower the floor with sparkles and waving a magic wand around. Something needs to happen. Something good, something amazing. I can’t be cooped up in this house all day long, all life long. Aunt Maggie always told me to go after my dreams, but my dreams are running faster and faster away from me and I’m slowing down. Maybe I should get a husband. Hah. Get a husband. How does one get a husband? Are they sold at the market? He could help me. He would have to be rich, and he would have to take me far away from this place. I would love him, though, but as long as he gets me away from here, he doesn’t have to love me. What would he look like? He would be wearing a suit of maroon coloring with polished shoes and slicked hair that is parted on one side. Or it could be gelled back and up. Aunt Maggie tells me that’s what all of the men in the big cities are wearing nowadays. If I were rich and famous, I’d want to start a fashion tre-
“Carolina!” a shrill voice cried out and she immediately recognized it as the crying voice of Frederick, the youngest in the family. She hopped up from her place on the cot and tightly laced her fingers with Paige’s before dragging the suddenly fear-stricken child along behind her.
Mod
The closet doors were flung open, although the bedroom door was shut tight and locked. The large world map had been thrown down to the ground, and the colorful tacks that marked all of the places that she had dreamed of going to since she was a little girl lay scattered about the floor. The wine glass stained permanently with a red streak going down the inside was smashed into pieces. All in all, the room looked like a mini tornado had swept through it in the middle of the night. The only things undisturbed were the blanket on the surprisingly clean bed and the bottle of pills standing on the leg of the toppled-over nightstand.
Rain drummed against the window, but the girl did not notice. The rain soothed her, made her feel numb. She had been feeling this way physically for about three weeks. She had been feeling this way mentally for about 22 years. No one noticed, and no one cared. Just how she liked it.
For years, she had known how she was going to die. While other girls were practicing their wedding vows in front of their small mirrors and swooning over their latest crush, she had been looking out of her own bedroom window, whispering sweet nothings to herself, and pinching the protruding wrist vein every time a drop of water hit her window. She had realized life’s futility early on, and no one ever noticed. She was invisible, and she liked it that way. How can you shine a spotlight on someone that was never even there?
Now, perched on top of the small pillow, she cuddled the blanket close to her chest and let her emotionless tears fall down her cheeks and onto the soft material just as helplessly as the rain drops fell from the sky. The blanket provided comfort and warmth, both internally and externally. It was her personal cuddle buddy; though inanimate, it gave her a sense of safety, as well as an extra heat source. Taking the bottle of pills into her hand, she shook a few out and stared at them blankly. They seemed to burn holes into the palm of her hand, and this time, she didn’t mind. Placing them in her mouth she held them under her tongue, feeling them press down on her gums. Opening the fifth story window, she stuck her head outside and grabbed the glass of rain water she had put there earlier that morning.
Taking a deep breath (or as much of a deep breath as you can take with a mouthful of pills), she took two large gulps of the water, and threw herself out of the window, soft blanket trailing behind her.
Five years later and it would be raining again. A girl, destined to end her life, launched herself out of the window, and she watched herself soar through the air and impale herself on a large tree branch. The soft blanket fell to the ground and absorbed the rain. It was soft before…
…now it was rough and dry and lifeless…
…almost a carbon copy of the girl.
Mod
What is your name?
A blinding light shone into Angie’s eyes and she forced herself to not squint, a sign of weakness. She looked away instead, mousy brown hair falling over her shoulder and hiding her angular face. “Huerta. Angie Huerta,” she whispered softly, her voice not able to croak out more than a few words at a time.
What is your age?
“27,” she replied coldly, emotion devoid from her voice.
Date of birth?
“January 12, 1986.”
What was your relation to Mr. Donnelly?
“I was his neighbor, and his gardener. You see, I’ve got quite the green thu-”
Where do you live?
Huffing at being so rudely cut off, Angie lifted her face, light blinding her, but it didn’t matter. “I live in a small shack next to his greenhouse. I’m comfortable there, really,” she added hastily. The computer screen blinked in front of her, automatic voice droning on more than was necessary, and asking harder and harder questions. A few minutes went by, and suddenly the computer shut down. Angie looked around, lights blinking all around the building. “What the-“ she began, but a flash knocked the computer over and the lights flashed once, twice, and then went out.
Trapped in complete darkness, she wandered towards the front of the room, hands feeling along the walls for a door handle, a screen, anything. The walls suddenly felt wet and Angie looked at her hands before turning away in disgust and stumbling back into the center of the room. The room started to glow, outlining the blood streaks coming down the walls in rivulets. Angie followed one trickle of blood up the walls, and towards the ceiling and was about to see what was hanging above her when a splash of ice cold water hit her from all sides, knocking her down to the ground. A wave was coming over her and the room was filling with water, it was filling up to the brim, it wasn’t spilling out, she was knocking on the window, the water was over her head, she was losing consciousness when-
“Angie,” a voice whispered in the darkness. The water became completely calm, and she turned around, still panicking and desperately looking for an exit. A cold hand touched her shoulder and she whirled around, hair sticking out in all directions and clothes uncomfortably sticking to her body.
“Hello?” Angie called out, but her voice made no sound. Suddenly, another rush of water came over her and a vine seemed to creep around her throat, anchoring her to the ground. The water abruptly spilled out of the room through an invisible exit and she opened her eyes just to feel a warm drop of liquid land on her forehead and fall slowly down the bridge of her nose. Another followed, and then another. She slowly opened her eyes and was met by a screaming woman who was hanging above her, feet tied to one of the ceiling’s rafters. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes were open wide in terror. Angie peered closer when her own mouth opened and a matching scream ripped out of her own throat. Blood started to fall faster and faster and it surrounded her, the wave was coming again-
She sat up with a gasp, feeling cold and clammy all over. She looked around the room, eyes carefully analyzing every visible thing. Reaching out for her glasses, she groped around for them in the dark. Hand landing on a pair of glasses, she quickly put them on, feeling the familiar pressure dig into her nose. Hand closing tightly around her trusty dried flower necklace, she squeezed her eyes shut and let herself fall back again the headboard of her bed, reality slipping away from her once again.
Mod
No Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-TE_Y...
Lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEP2BB...
Album: Midnight Memories (2013)
# on Album: 2
Genre: Pop
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What is your name?
Talia looked out the window of her bedroom, placing a hand on the cold window gently. It was safe in there, safe in her bedroom, locked away from the world. Her red hair sparkled with newly applied hairspray. She leaned her head against the window, her forehead colder than the rest of her body. “Talia Donnelly,” she whispered, her lips fogging up the glass even more than it already was.
What is your age?
“17.”
Date of birth?
“March 16, 1996.” She remembered the day exactly. Her mother had died during childbirth, leaving her motherless and with only a midwife to hold her during her first hours.
What was your relation to Mr. Donnelly?
Talia waited for the next question patiently, small stomach going up and down with each shallow breath. She ruffled the skirt of her pale pink and white 50’s style dress and let her breath fog up the glass more. Her lips touched the cold and wet window, and her dull eyes stared listlessly out at the military base just 200 yards across the polluted bay.
Where do you live?
“In my head,” she answered the automatic voice. It was true, she was in her head most of the time, anything to get out of the hustle and bustle of real life. The computer went silent, then an irritatingly long beep sliced through her brain and Talia winced. It sounded like a heart monitor, like someone has just died. Her hands acted on their own and she watched in horror as they lifted the window and the damp breeze brushed her hair back from her face. She swung her thin legs out of the window and clicked her heels together patiently waiting for death to come. Letting out a sigh of content, she fell out of the window and watched the bay flash before her eyes. The fall went painfully slow and she sighed happily as her dress flew up and around her petite body.
Red drops of blood began to appear on her flesh and she let out a high-pitched squeal of horror. She was supposed to die, wasn’t she? But her skin was peeling off slowly, leaving nothing but bones falling and crashing to the ground. She screamed, the pain was too much. She braced herself for impact against the concrete but instead she heard glass crashing around her and the only thing that fell through the mirror was the dress, crumpled for the first time.
She was floating in negative space, half of her skin peeled off and the other half burning holes into the second layer of flesh. She was no longer safe in her house, she was no longer safe anywhere. She wasn’t physically dead, but she was inside.
Talia’s eyes flew open with a start and her numb arms fell out to the sides before falling back out of her bedroom window once more.
Mod
Winter came early that year, large flakes falling upon the City of Lights. Stores were closed for the night, and smoke from chimneys curled softly into the air. The shuffling of feet was heard all around, and Maxine buried her head deeper into her dark red scarf. Shouldering a bag of sketches and textbooks with a heavy sigh, she walked slower and slower until she finally found an empty bench to plop everything down on. Crinkling her nose, she brushed her hair back and caught her beanie before it fell onto the snow-covered ground. Sighing yet again, she brushed snow off of the bench and sat down, crossing one leg over the other quite elegantly. She looked at her bag, up at the lit-up Eiffel Tower, back down to her bag, and then back up to the Eiffel Tower. Taking a pen out of her bag, Maxine tapped it against her numb cheek a few times before taking out her notebook and running her fingers over the locks.
It was a leather-bound notebook, with music note etchings on the cover. Her mother had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday, the same day her mother had listened to Mozart for the first time, rented a piano, and proclaimed her daughter become a famous classical pianist for the rest of her life. Yeah, no. Like that was going to happen. It came with a key but no lock, so tech-savvy friend Charlotte had put in a lock, styled the key, and placed a hidden pocket in the back for “important documents”. What could be more important than her fashion designs?
Maxine brushed her hair out of her face once more and inwardly shivered at a sudden blast of cold air. Clearing her throat, she shifted back in her seat, feet tapping a random rhythm on the icy ground. She was so busy tracing her finger over the music notes that she didn’t notice the golden light from the 1,063 foot tall tower fading away into darkness. Sharply looking up, she noticed a boy staring down at her, a cheeky smile covering his face. Hastily putting her notebook away, she laced her frozen fingers together and smiled up at the boy. “Hello, Maxine,” the boy confidently voiced. His breath puffed out and curled up in the air and Maxine giggled before catching herself and putting a small smile back on her face once more.
“Hello, Xavier,” she replied with an equal amount of confidence. Xavier Moncelle. The bad boy, the punk, the leader of the local gang, Les Loups. They were out of line, trouble makers, idiots, and Maxine despised them with all of her being, but it wasn’t lady-like to show her dislike.
“So… what are you doing?” he asked airily, sitting himself down next to her with no permission or anything. Maxine huffed in annoyance and moved away from him, closer to her bag.
“Homework.”
“You don’t look like you’re doing homework.”
“Yeah, well, I am.”
“What are you really doing?”
“Well, now that you ask so nicely, wasting my time by talking to you.”
“Woah, stallion,” he said in a mocking tone. Maxine narrowed her eyes at the nickname and let her calm state feed off of her rising anger. “Not trying to interrupt.”
“You never try, you just do.”
Xavier got up, irritated from her light sarcasm and walked off to join his stupid gang. Les Loups. The Wolves. What kind of gang name is that? She picked up her bag, homework already done at school, and headed home, snow crunching under her feet gently.
Mod
The day was November 27. Winter had come early that year, and the snow was falling onto the ground at a leisurely pace. Myun was in the lead, black leather jacket flapping around him in the cold winter breeze. Stuffing his hands further into his pockets, he flipped his hair to one side and narrowed his eyes at the open forest. A man sat off to one side, roped to the tree. His head shamefully held down, he shivered ever so often in the biting cold. Four wolves trailed along behind him, surprisingly quiet for once. Bae held up the rear, uncomfortably shouldering a heavy duffel bag that held nothing but one gun with one bullet already loaded.
Myun sighed as he came up to the man, Dae walking solemnly alongside him. Hyo and Hyun-sil stood on opposite side of Bae and watched him with sorry eyes as he put the bag down by his feet and stared down into the emptiness, where only a gleam of deadly silver greeted him.
The man looked up, eyes watering and red-rimmed, lip quivering. Half of his face was streaked in blood, the other half covered in dried mud. His shirt tattered and bruises covering all of the open areas on his chest. His bare feet twitched of their own accord and Dae stepped back in disgust.
“You have done something terrible,” Myun spoke to the man in a gravelly voice; his authority voice.
“I didn’t-“
“You did.” A snap of his fingers towards Bae showed a sign of impatience. Head bowed low and gun held out at arm’s length, Bae drew in a shaky breath before steadying his trembling and pulling the trigger.
Almost in slow motion, the bullet curved towards the man’s head and he was the only one who watched with horrified eyes as it made a beeline towards the middle of his forehead. It all happened in a blur. One second the bullet was in midair, next, it was embedded in the man’s skull.
A single cough interrupted the silence that followed, and that was Myun’s cue to promptly turn around and gesture for his company of five to follow him.
Mod
“Come on, pup!”
Dae scoffed and rolled his eyes at Bae. “First of all, aren’t you the youngest? And second of all-“
“There is no second of all, let’s go party!” Bae cheered, disregarding Dae’s first question. Dae yanked his hand out of Bae’s, almost thoroughly irritated with the younger boy’s foolish antics. He couldn’t be completely mad at him, though. After all, it was Bae’s idea to go out and celebrate the pair’s new record of no fighting (one month) at one of Seoul’s most elite nightclubs.
Dae was mystified on three things:
1. How is Bae going to get into the club?
2. Is he going to desert me?
3. Can he actually pick up women?
With this mental checklist in mind, Dae followed Bae, hot on his tail. As they approached the velvety rope separating them from the freezing cold and the best night of their life, the bouncer stopped them with a burly hand. “Ah, 똥!” Bae muttered under his breath. Was he not expecting a bouncer at the door. Well, the man was a good foot shorter than Bae.
Dae had always marveled at Bae’s height. Standing at a grand height of a whole 6’11, Bae intimidated almost everyone who dared stand near him. A lean wolf, he was scary in both forms.
Bae rose to his full height at (literally) looked down on the bouncer. “Come on, man, we just want to have a bit of fun, we’re legal, we swear!” Okay, not true – they were two years shy of being legal, but who cares? Elite nightclub only two feet ahead!
“No can do, kid. Why don’t you run on home to your moth-“
A low growl escaped Bae’s throat and his eyes darkened as his canines simultaneously lowered. “We’re legal. We swear,” he repeated, his voice at least two octaves lower. My, this nineteen-year old was terrifying. Question 1 answered: intimidation. Dae was expecting bribery, but what money did they have?
Pulling him into the club, beads of sweat already appeared on Dae’s face from the bodies pressed so close together. Pulling him off to the side, Bae bent down to shout in Dae’s ear. “I’m gonna go see if I can get us some drinks. You stay here and dance,” he shouted into Dae’s ear and sauntered off to the bar.
Dance? No way.
5 minutes later…
Bodies pressed up against him, drink sloshing over his wet shirt, and bass pounding through his system.
15 minutes later…
Fourteen shots down, women on either side of him, and DJ gaining more and more confidence.
45 minutes later…
Fifty shots running through his veisn and number fifty-one being poured just inches away from his face, vision getting a bit blurry, catching visions of Bae with women draping themselves over them like faux-fur scarves. Question 3 answered: yes, when drunk.
36 minutes later…
A bottle of soju in his hand and weight leaning against Bae, he shouted elementary school songs used to learn the alphabet at the top of his lungs. Giddy laughter filled the night air as the two young men tottered down the street, not a care in the world. Question 2 answered: not a chance. All was good and all was right until Dae tripped over his own two feet and fell onto the ground, rolling around like a sack of rice. Bae joined in the fun, clutching his stomach and trying not to drop his own two bottles of soju in the process. “We need to answer the big life questions,” Dae spoke suddenly, sitting up in the middle of the street and tugging on Bae’s pant leg. “Come answer the big life questions with me~” he pleaded. Bae sat down next to him, long limbs stretched out, back against the cool asphalt of the abandoned road.
“Life question A, why does alcohol make you feel so free?” Dae asked Bae, who was currently swishing his arms out to-and-fro, making a “street angel” in the process.
“Because it makes you forget about the world~” Bae giggled, cheeks puffing out like a blowfish.
“Life question B… Th-there is no life question B…”
“That’s because there is nothing more to life than alcohol!”
“Of course you would think that,” a gravelly voice spoke up from behind. “What do you think you two are doing?” Myun asked, head leaning out of the window.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m lying in the middle of the street listening to Dae’s amazing talking skills,” Bae answered cheekily, poking at Dae’s knees.
“What are you doing out in the middle of a highway at 2 in the morning?”
“Well, Bae here told me to go out and enjoy myself, and I took him with me because we’ve gone for one month?”
“One month,” Bae confirmed.
“One month since we have fought at all~” Dae sing-songed happily.
“You two… I’ll kill you tomorrow. Good luck finding any painkillers in the morning.”
“M-Myun…”
“Yes, Bae?”
“Do you have any alcohol?”
Mod
“It’s Christmas time, and Yoon Dae-jung is the last one to open the presents for him. There he goes, crawling under the tree, and now he’s searching for a present, pick mine, pick mine, okay nope, you’re going for Myun’s present first, see how thoughtful? Letting the alpha go first, that’s so traditional. Anyway, he’s slowly unwrapping the paper, okay, now he’s tearing at it, wow so much aggression, can’t you take that out on Bae anytime?”
“Would you cut it out?” Dae sighed exaggeratedly, pointing a finger at Hyo and the imaginary microphone he was holding in his left fist.
“Fine. Good luck getting commentary next year.”
“Thank God.”
With an annoyed huff of air, the two boys sat down – Dae on the floor, Hyo on Hyun-sil.
“So… what is it?” Hyo asked, energy renewed.
“It’s a watch~” Dae voiced half-heartedly. Then, he turned towards Myun. “Really? A watch?”
Myun shrugged and put his hands up in defense. “Hey, it’s a nice watch.”
15 minutes later, Dae sat in a pile of presents. One life-size wolf plushie from Do, a watch from Myun, a leather jacket from Hyo, a ring from Hyun-sil (that Hyo had gotten all huffy at from the presentation of the ring and had to be calmed down), and Bae’s present was to be opened.
“It sounds like something’s ticking in your box, Bae,” Dae muttered in confusion. Did the younger boy also get him a watch, or was there a bomb in there?
Bae just smiled and shrunk back even more behind his pile of presents.
Even more terrified yet intrigued, Dae peered his head into the box and saw a…
…clock.
A very loud clock.
“A clock? What do I need a clock for when I already have a watch?”
“You’re not gonna use the watch, idiot, you’re just saying that because Myun’s right there!”
Mod
“Bring out… the telescope~!” Hyo cheered as Hyun-sil and Do pulled the telescope from its space in the closet. Coughing, Hyo cleared the dust off with a tissue and chucked it at Myun’s head. “Come on over, we’re gonna look at the moon~”
“I don’t want to look at the moon.”
“Why not?”
“Because the moon has craters and I don’t like uneven things.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Then we’ll just have to drag you over here so that you can face your fear telescope first~”
Sighing in defeat (no one wins battles when Hyo is around), Myun stood up and walked over to the trio now trying to figure out how the telescope worked. “Well, I think we just tilt that up, and-“
“-viola~ Telescope ready for use~”
Myun looked warily at the telescope, then stepped forward and bent down so that he was at eye-level with it. “Don’t be shy, just look at the moon, alright?” Hyo cooed.
Myun grunted in response before closing one eye and widening the other. Do jumped forward, turned a few knobs, and suddenly the moon was in clear view. Truth be told, only half of it was visible, but he could see the outline and the glow that it had and the craters-
“It’s so uneven!” Myun cried, stumbling backwards into the open arms of Hyun-sil.
Mod
No Lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-IJW...
Lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUUmy...
Album: Name Is 4Minute (2013)
# on Album: 2
Genre: K-pop (Korean pop)/pop/foreign
Mod
Hello, anyone reading this~!
For my latest character, I have successfully finished the family history. Which means tomorrow I will be working on The Basement Dweller story collection, my English homework, my History homework, and possibly a character from Heels and Stockings.
I hope you guys like the stories, I try to make them as entertaining and engaging as possible.
As of right now, I have 11 more stories to write in The Basement Dwellers story collection, plus I have to update the writing blog with this
Also, my longer character histories; I will try and finish them up as little stories and put them on here for your enjoyment. Gifs will be used, as will the dividers from the character template.
Again, please do not steal anything off of my characters, stories, or anything else that you may find here. I do not own any of the songs that I post here, and all of those rights go to the artist and their respective company.
Thank you~
~A
Since I'm working on a series of books, (and I need some feedback) I will be posting little bits and pieces of my writing every now and then.
I also sometimes write very dark poetry. If you cannot handle the concept of death, blood, or death as a person, then, don't read my poetry (unless you want nightmares).
I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew when it comes to writing, which is why under the works in progress section some things will be up for quite a long time.
The writing blog
Contents of the following posts
>>advertisements
>>writing prompts
>>chapters
>>songs
>>poetry
>>short stories
>>stories based on songs
>>novellas
>>micro fictions
Pieces in progress
>>short story : hell trial
>>song-based story : coldplay - paradise
>>writing prompt : 007
>>the game's truth : chapter 3
>>heels and stockings : rewrite chapter 1
>>novella : a lost hope
>>letters to the queen : book 1 : chapter 2