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Music Emotion Exercise
Kriss wrote: "I have the attention span of a goldfish."I have the attention span of a goldfish with Alzheimer's.
I'm listening to music but I don't know what to write. D:
The song I wrote this thing too is Cavatina from "The Deer Hunter" soundtrack, and is no doubt the most beautiful song ever written in the history of the universe.I know what "The Deer Hunter"'s about, but this story is happy.
I have a dream, too.
I have a dream that one day it’ll be just you and I, our hands entwined, looking out onto the sunset. You’ll look at me and I’ll look at you, and we’ll smile and grow old.
The rays from the fading sun will wash our past away, making us loose and care-free. We’ll take a jump together and we’ll fly, fly far away from this awful place. People will say, “They died together.” But we’ll know. We’ll know that we were redeemed and we flew away, that we left everything.
The scars will disappear. The bruises will disappear. The anger and weeping will disappear. But you won’t.
We’ll fly by stars, our hands still together, but one of your arms wrapped around my shoulders. All we’ll do is smile, and we’ll keep on going on forever, just a little old couple who are still madly in love.
But something will end it. When it does, we’ll become young, we’ll land, but the thing is, we’ll never, ever forget it. Our paradise.
And then when the sun sets the next day, you and I will grow old, leap, and fly again.
Mod
I know what "The Deer Hunter"'s ..."
This is lovely <3
Mod
Pale skin, sweat—the taste of her mouth, her body. Eyes, melting like chocolate—his eyes. Pupils like pinpricks. Hair, intertwined, tangling around fingertips. Her lips, parting, soft exhale, sharp inhale—then she did not breath—sharp hips, pressed to his. A gasp. She was alive, moving, moving, moving like liquid. Hands like fire, eyes like light, glazed as stars are glazed. Tangled sheets, gossamer kisses, and then silence. Sweet dreams, darkness, warmth. Then she was gone.
It was a memory, or perhaps a dream. She was gone; she’d been gone the first time he’d ever met her, gone in a different sense. Her name, whenever spoken, brought a flood of unwanted thoughts. Ashar. A taste like chocolate and wine; smooth, soft hair. Legs, half-shaved. Smooth cheek; fluttering eyelids. Kisses—lips against lips, tongue against tongue. He’d forgotten about her. He didn’t care anymore. But what was he to do, when he was staring at her now? She was exactly the same—the same brown hair, done up in a lazy ponytail. The same face, with a scar at her lip. He wanted to trace it with his fingertip, taste it with his tongue.
No.
His control was lost—it spiraled out of control, quite suddenly. He grabbed her by her arm, pulled her into him. “Stop running,” he whispered, but his voice was a plea.
Her silence was long, so long he didn’t know if she would ever speak. “You don’t care anymore. Remember? We never happened.”
Hi. I missed you.
Liar. Fucking liar.
I’ve been gone. I’ve been busy.
I don’t want to talk to you.
Don’t be like that.
Go away. I don’t care anymore.
His breath hitched—he was a liar. He was a liar. A damn liar. He wanted her; he wanted to touch her, familiarize himself with her all over again, stare into her eyes until he could see nothing else. Only, when he stared, her eyes were filled with panic, worry, anger. He was gone, now; gone, gone, gone, not her. No, not her. She was grown. And his eyes, eyes like melted chocolate, eyes of someone with nothing inside but a dream, perhaps a song—something beautiful, something half-real.
“I care now,” he said.
Her eyes softened—then hardened. “And now I don’t.”
Never. You never cared.
Mod
John and Sarah were playing Nintendo all day long, and though Sarah wasn't any good, John would always let her win because he loved when she laughed and her cheeked blushed--a bit like those roses his mom planted outside in the front--as she clapped her hands together ecstatically. After a while, Sarah stopped, looked straight into John's eyes (which made him crazy) and said, demanded: "There needs to be a hug going on. Right now."
And so they hugged. And John's heart exploded like the Gusher's his mom left them on the couch earlier that evening.
Mod
Mod
(Not really fitting, but it was the song I was listening too at the time that inspired it)
And she was Eve, God, she was Eve and she was sinning, and she had the knowledge of sin. She had tasted the apple, the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, and she would never go back to innocence again. No, innocence didn't fit her, not one bit.
She was Eve and I wasn't Adam, no, I was just some fool that fell in love with her, fell in love with her just for sinning, just for breaking all the rules. Because here she was, touching me, touching me with her hands and her lips and her eyes (and yes, you can touch with eyes, you can touch damn near everything with just a glance). She had half of Mona Lisa's smile on her lips, and I was just falling.
Sinning. She was sin.
She was knowledge. I wanted her.
I need to start posting here (general) more. ;n;I think this counts. This was an assignment from my Lyrics as Lit class, where I was supposed to write a short story inspired by a song.
The Circle Game - Joni Mitchell
Carnival music rings proudly in the air. A little family pauses on their walk to their walk to the park—their youngest tugging on the mother, trying to get her to say yes to the carnival. But she hushes him and continues walking, dragging him along until they reach the park, and the music is so far off that it’s muffled by the occasional chirp of a bird.
Their youngest, a girl, sits by a pond and stares at a few ducks swimming about. She wants to see the carnival. Of course, she has never been to one before, and has only seen the ones on the television. She thinks her mother to be a bit too stiff in not allowing her to go. Perhaps her father might have a different opinion. It doesn’t matter now, though, so the ducks will have to do for her playmates. Her older siblings are playing on the swings and slides and monkey bars, laughing.
“Come on, Lily! It’s just a clown show,” called her sister.
“No it’s not,” she answered.
“Yes it is. Come play! It’s not like you can mope forever.”
“Ah she’s no fun, Amanda,” said her brother.
“Shut up, Isaac,” she said.
“See?” said her brother.
“Okay fine. But when mom and dad complain, it’s your fault.”
“What?!”
Sighing, she turns back towards the ducks, only to find that they had swam away.
She’s quiet for the rest of the day, pouting and disappointed. She refuses to speak with either one of her siblings (no doubt they’d just keep making fun of her—Isaac especially) nor her parents. Instead, she lies on her bed and stared at the wall. At some point she must have fallen asleep for she wakes up some time later to a lack of sunlight. She rolls out of bed and makes her way towards the door (she thinks about taking her blanket and teddy bear with her, but they might get dirty). The house is almost painfully silent. Little Lily creeps down the carpeted stairs and towards the front door. She’d go to the carnival herself.
She retraces the steps her family took, and eventually, she hears the music. The music always makes her smile. Then she sees the lights, bright and colourful in the nighttime darkness.
Next comes the sign. She isn’t quite sure what it says, but she knows it’s there, and it’s big. That also makes her smile. By the time she reaches the gate, she has an ear-to-ear grin. The ticket booth is empty. She noticed that there aren’t many people there, but that’sall right.
“Hello, little girl!”
She whips around. A strange woman in a gown stands behind her and steals the smile from her face, replacing it with fear.
“Hello,” she answers politely. Her mother always told her to be polite.
“Shouldn’t you be at home right now?”
“Yes, but I wanted to see the carnival. Is it closed?”
“The carnival never closes, dear.”
“But no one's here.”
“True, but that doesn't mean that it's closed. It just becomes more /magical/ at night. Come on. I can take you inside.”
“Okay!”
The strange woman in a gown pushes open the gate—
“Don't we need tickets?”
“Don't worry about it.”
Lily follows her into the carnival. As she steps passed the gates, the pathways seem to come alive with people. It’s a bit hard to keep up with the woman who weaves through the visitors flawlessly. And yes, it is quite magical—from the smell to the sounds to the attractions to the games.
They pause several times, once in front of a rather short gentleman, about Lily's size, and another time in front of some rather odd mirrors that both enlarge her and squish her. They fascinate her, and the woman let her stare at herself for as long as she wants before moving on. They go on the Ferris wheel once, and then, after spotting it, leave for the carousel.
“Which one do you want to get on?” ask the woman.
“That white one.”
Soon she is fastened atop the painted pony, clutching the golden rod struck down the middle of it. The woman stands next to her. She seems happier, which in turn makes Lily happy.
“Why aren't you getting on one?”
“Don't you worry about that, dear. I'll be stepping off after this.”
“Oh... Then maybe I should go home after too.”
The woman smiles,
“It’s starting.” And she laughs an odd little laugh and steps off the wooden platform, disappearing in the crowd. Lily frowns. She didn’t know how to get back to the front. Oh well. Maybe someone would tell her. The little man might. He seemed quite nice.
She rides up and down and around the carousel. She has been on one before, but it was at the mall—not quite like the carnival. Lily is laughing.
It stops far too soon, but she knows she needs to go. She has school Monday.
She finds herself stuck to her seat. The belt around her waist, tying her to the little painted pony, refuses to unfasten, and so again the carousel began, taking her around and around. She calls out to the woman, but she is nowhere to be found. She calls out to the crowd, but they can’t hear. She calls out to the man controlling the carousel, but he smiles, and ignores her.
THEN DO IT. (it helps when you have deadlines)
Iviana (The Sign Painter) wrote: "THEN DO IT. (it helps when you have deadlines)"BUT I'M TOO LAZY.
Iviana (The Sign Painter) wrote: "I need to start posting here (general) more. ;n;I think this counts. This was an assignment from my Lyrics as Lit class, where I was supposed to write a short story inspired by a song.
The Circl..."
Ivi :D Hullo there.
DO IT EMILY. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO. :D Hallo~
*nods* So that means you must.
BUT I AM TO LAZYYYYYYYY.And I don't know what song to listen too.
NO. YOU MUST.I can provide songs. :3
I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING.But it's weird. -_-
Where Dreams Are Made- John Williams
The images were fresh in my mind. Laughing, holding hands, smiling, tender kisses, your face. A tear trickled down my cheek. What was going to happen to you? All those plans we made, all those memories we had—they were going to fade away just like that.
I know what you would say. You would say, “Don’t blame yourself.” It’s not your fault.
But it is.
Can’t you see this?
Because of me and my foolish nature, my stupid wants, my regretful actions, I just tore everything apart and threw away the pieces.
But please remember this.
I still love you. I love you so, so much. I never wanted to hurt you. I know I was terrible, but you loved me, and I would never know why.
It was getting hard for me to breathe. My shirt was getting more and more stained. I stared up at the sky and thought of you one last time.
I knew it was my time to go.
But don’t you stop living.
That was lovely <3Also, John Williams gives me feelings.
Although I'm not nearly as talented of a writer as any on you, here is my story.So Close- Evanescence
I write out my love for you, with the blood that flows through my veins. With the fire that engulfs my beating heart. The passion only resonates in the words I write and every expression that lies in my eyes every time I look at you. I can only admire you from this distance. The best I can do are the cutesy notes I anonymously give to you, that don't even convey my every thought. Because if I gave you the very essence of who I am, how I feel to you, you would probably shy away from that love.
I'd at least openly give you the cutesy notes, if I wasn't afraid of your response. I know that you don't feel the same. That, there's the possibility you will never feel the same. But, I give them because I've never left a mark this great on anyone. You think that no one has ever felt anything, not even one ounce of emotion. You have to know that someone thinks about you as the brightest star in their sky, so that you can have hope that someone who you care this much about will return this. And so, that you give up on something you can't control and just let it find you.
I will stop denying the fact that you might never feel the same. But, for now my words are in your mailbox, and my heart with you. Soon, I will let go and let this current take me somewhere new. But for now, I'll cling to my precarious ledge. I'll taste this sweetness that fills me when I look at you, then the following bitterness when I remember, you've never dreamnt of me.
For now, I trudge back to my solitude. I lay down and listen to echoing violins. Picture the sunsets that cascade over tall mountain tops. I rewrite my words to you and place it in my black box. I lock it back up hoping no one can enter it again. But, you're already there, and only the box can choose to let you go.
Are you kidding me? That was wonderful and you're so much better than me aierj;slfjasorislkdfjailrksa
Thank you. Personally I think some of your writing is really great though.
Ummm . . . I'm listening to Wide Awake by Katy Perry.
Laurel is leaving the ball. She doesn't really need to be there, and she has more important places to be. Places that could give her a new life or take away her existing one. Sure, this life is fine, but Laurel has anger in her heart that could never be silenced. It is a beast inside her, and it makes Laurel afraid. She knows that the only way to tame this beast, this monster that controls her, is to use it. She also knows that in her new life she must never be afraid, or suffer the consequences of being an outsider in two places. If she fails with this, she will never have a home.
The name Laurel doesn't fit this new girl. Laurel has to be tough. Laurel has to be Loredan.
Loredan doesn't walk. She flows now, her red cape dancing behind her. The black dress she wears underneath must not be shown to anyone. She has deadly power in her silver eyes, barely concealed. The monster is awake as Loredan pulls on her black gloves, wraps her inky black scarf around her face, and opens the giant doors to the biting cold outside.
The wind grabs at her red cloak, but it cannot get it's way to the warm flesh it seeks. Loredan's eyes are the only things not concealed in her warm clothes. But why would the wind or snow want those eerie silver eyes?
Red and black. The colors she wears, the colors of her destination. The colors of blood and shadows. But as Loredan enters it is only black. She smiles a smile of delight. Delight at the feeling of the cool shadows that slither over her skin like dark snakes.
But then there is light.
"Bow. You have no need to talk. I know what you want and you can have it." The voice is as deep as the deepest oceans, and just as cold. "You wish to drown the fire. Very well. If you fail to extinguish the fire . . ."
"I know."
"I'm sure you do."
Loredan hates fire. Fire means hope to other people, and that wouldn't be good. Fire is always a symbol of rebellion. The flames that dance and lick only repulse Loredan.
"Bow."
Loredan sinks into a deep curtsy, so low that her cape pools around her like water. Her hood hides the mocking smile that dances across her lips and the glee that explodes from her eyes. The black ringlets of her hair touch the cool black floor.
As she sets off for the village, the fire killer feels more power. Yes, she hates it, but fire can be so powerful, and Loredan craves power like a drug.
The monster inside of Loredan isn't inside her any more. Now it is her.
A town. As she approaches it, the fire goes out. It is silent. But then, screams. Death is coming, summoned by Loredan. A black hand, darker than the deepest shadows, reaches down. It hovers over the village, as if picking which lollipop it wants in a candy store.
Something twinges inside of Loredan. It's sadness. She thinks of this man's family. She can see his wife, his baby son. What if he never met his father?
No. She will stop this.
Flames reach out to grab the hand of death. Death twinges, drops the man. Fire pushes the hand back into the sky, and it is gone.
Loredan? No. Laurel.
Laurel feels a tug in her gut, and she is falling in slow motion, her red cape billowing out like the wind itself. Her hair flies up, and those silver eyes are wide with shock. Yes, she is wide awake, as she will be until she dies. But it is well worth the sacrifice.
Laurel is an outcast everywhere she goes, but she doesn't need to fit in with her best friend the fire.
Laurel is leaving the ball. She doesn't really need to be there, and she has more important places to be. Places that could give her a new life or take away her existing one. Sure, this life is fine, but Laurel has anger in her heart that could never be silenced. It is a beast inside her, and it makes Laurel afraid. She knows that the only way to tame this beast, this monster that controls her, is to use it. She also knows that in her new life she must never be afraid, or suffer the consequences of being an outsider in two places. If she fails with this, she will never have a home.
The name Laurel doesn't fit this new girl. Laurel has to be tough. Laurel has to be Loredan.
Loredan doesn't walk. She flows now, her red cape dancing behind her. The black dress she wears underneath must not be shown to anyone. She has deadly power in her silver eyes, barely concealed. The monster is awake as Loredan pulls on her black gloves, wraps her inky black scarf around her face, and opens the giant doors to the biting cold outside.
The wind grabs at her red cloak, but it cannot get it's way to the warm flesh it seeks. Loredan's eyes are the only things not concealed in her warm clothes. But why would the wind or snow want those eerie silver eyes?
Red and black. The colors she wears, the colors of her destination. The colors of blood and shadows. But as Loredan enters it is only black. She smiles a smile of delight. Delight at the feeling of the cool shadows that slither over her skin like dark snakes.
But then there is light.
"Bow. You have no need to talk. I know what you want and you can have it." The voice is as deep as the deepest oceans, and just as cold. "You wish to drown the fire. Very well. If you fail to extinguish the fire . . ."
"I know."
"I'm sure you do."
Loredan hates fire. Fire means hope to other people, and that wouldn't be good. Fire is always a symbol of rebellion. The flames that dance and lick only repulse Loredan.
"Bow."
Loredan sinks into a deep curtsy, so low that her cape pools around her like water. Her hood hides the mocking smile that dances across her lips and the glee that explodes from her eyes. The black ringlets of her hair touch the cool black floor.
As she sets off for the village, the fire killer feels more power. Yes, she hates it, but fire can be so powerful, and Loredan craves power like a drug.
The monster inside of Loredan isn't inside her any more. Now it is her.
A town. As she approaches it, the fire goes out. It is silent. But then, screams. Death is coming, summoned by Loredan. A black hand, darker than the deepest shadows, reaches down. It hovers over the village, as if picking which lollipop it wants in a candy store.
Something twinges inside of Loredan. It's sadness. She thinks of this man's family. She can see his wife, his baby son. What if he never met his father?
No. She will stop this.
Flames reach out to grab the hand of death. Death twinges, drops the man. Fire pushes the hand back into the sky, and it is gone.
Loredan? No. Laurel.
Laurel feels a tug in her gut, and she is falling in slow motion, her red cape billowing out like the wind itself. Her hair flies up, and those silver eyes are wide with shock. Yes, she is wide awake, as she will be until she dies. But it is well worth the sacrifice.
Laurel is an outcast everywhere she goes, but she doesn't need to fit in with her best friend the fire.
message 82:
by
Shreya=Drastically Random. Find the emoticon.
(last edited Jul 23, 2012 05:38PM)
(new)
That's really good! I always find it hard to write to songs with lyrics, so I'm working on it.Gotye - Somebody that I used to Know
There was one time when I would see your face, look into those deep brown eyes, and know what you were thinking. I would feel your sadness and your pain as my own. Your happiness would fill me and make me want to fly, to scream my feelings to the world.
To this day, nothing in your face has changed. Nothing in your appearance has changed. You wear the same clothes. You have the same tendencies, the same small, but significant habits. You walk the same way, talk the same way. Nothing has changed on the outside.
But when I look at you, I can't feel the same way. I can't reach through your expression to your inner depths, your roots. I can't feel you as a part of me.
I still know everything about you. I know your life story, your memories, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, everything.
But you're a stranger.
Argh it's too close to what the song's actually saying :(
I need to do this agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain.
Shreya=Drastically Random. Find the emoticon. wrote: "That's really good! I always find it hard to write to songs with lyrics, so I'm working on it.Gotye - Somebody that I used to Know
There was one time when I would see your face, look into those d..."
I liked it. It looked like it was influenced by the song but it still had details that kept it from being to matchy.
Now you're just somebody that I used to know. Couldn't help it.
BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUTTTTTTTTT ME OFFFFFFFFFFACT LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED AND WE WERE NOTHIN'
I DON'T EVEN NEEEEEEEED YOUR LOOOOOOOOVE
BUT YOU TREAT ME LIKE A STRANGER AND IT FEELS SO ROUGH
YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO STOOOOOOOOOOP SO LOOOOOOOOW
HAVE YOUR FRIENDS COLLECT YOUR RECORDS AND CHANGE YOUR NUMBER
I DON'T EVEN NEED THOSE THOUGH
NOW YOU'RE JUST SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW
...Sorry, I couldn't help it.
NOW AND THEN I THINK OF ALL THE TIMES YOU (bleep) ME OVERLETTING ME BELIEVE THAT IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING THAT I'D DONE
BUT I DON'T WANNA LIVE THAT WAY
HANGING ON TO EVERY WORD YOU SAY
YOU SAID THAT YOU COULD LET IT GO
AND I WOULDN'T CATCH YOU HUNG UP ON SOMEBODY THAT YOU USED TO KNOWWW!
Hehe.
Eheheheheheheheheheheh.OOH I HAVE A SONG I CAN WRITE SOMETHING TOO
Bobby Darin - Night SongLyrics:
(view spoiler)
The night was settling on the park. Her dirty blonde hair rested around her face, messy. Brushing her hair behind her ears, she watched the couples stroll on the pathways, hands interlocked, content smiles on their face.
As one couple disappeared from her sight, she glanced ahead of her. Through the old trees shone a thousand different signs, blinding her. The neon signs confused her, making her unsure what just one was advertising.
The sun was finally setting the horizon. It was a hazy June evening; she had hope that maybe tonight was the night.
Standing up from the bench, she watched as a dad passed by with a little boy sitting on his shoulders, both laughing. A smile went from her lips as quick as it came. Passing through the trees, cars from the busy city street whisked by her, making her shirt and hair fly in the direction they were heading. Resting her arms against the trunk of the street, her eyes stayed locked on the passing automobiles. She wondered if they even saw her, passing so quickly; it was always a thought she had had since she was a child. If they did so, did they wonder where she was going?
She didn’t even know where she was going herself. Certainly not where they were heading.
The sun slipped away from the sky, stars faintly shining in the sky. Her ratty sneakers gently patted against the sidewalk, her lips pursed. Through the sound of screeching tires and honking horns, she heard the voices of children calling out to each other, laughing merrily. It had been ages since she had laughed.
It had been ages since she actually knew what she was doing. She looked across the street, seeing another couple cross. The fact that they had each other mystified her. She had almost completely forgotten what it’s like to have somebody.
Her head hurt as memories and thoughts swirled around in her mind. One of the last things she had said before the knight she was thrown out was that she was going to chase her dreams.
What dreams, though? What did she want? It was hard chasing after a desire you weren’t even sure about.
The sound of faint music hit her ears. She wondered where it was coming from. It was just another lonely song, serenading her. She wanted to thank whoever was playing it, but she knew it was pointless to make sense of how much it seemed to accompany her on her aimless journey.
All she knew was that she wanted somebody. That she wanted something. She felt like her mind was going to explode. She wanted somewhere to go to sort everything out, figure out what she really wanted to chase after. She wanted just one person.
As the night completely fell around the city, she couldn’t help but wonder to herself, where do I belong?
I've never heard this song before, but I like it. Especially that violin bit at the beginning.And the writing goes really well.
Mod
Lyrics:
Summer, not a bit of breeze
Neon signs are shining through the tired trees
Lovers walking to and fro
Everyone has someone and a place to go
Listen … hear the car..."
That is lovely <3
Mod
November 7th 2073 was just another date. It was raining.
Kierlan is certain that that detail will never go down in history, even if the date is recorded. Yes, it was raining November 7th, 2073. The empty streets were running with it. The buildings wept with it. The first time Kierlan met Matthias Todd, he smelt like it.
He stepped inside the Incarcerate, shrugging out of his soaking coat, feeling like a drowned dog. He was annoyed. It was his only day off that week, and somehow his father had found a way to call him in the station—what would it be? Kierlan stormed down the long hallway, almost slipping on the wet tile. He already felt an argument rising up inside of him.
I’m not going to do a damn thing today—
His thoughts broke off as he stepped inside the main room of the building, shouldering through the swinging doors. The Atrum who were normally confined to the office were standing and unsettled, wearing Streetman clothes, which was out of ordinary. Kierlan was beginning to think that, perhaps, he hadn’t been called in over any stupid assignment. Maybe he wasn’t being called in for an assignment at all.
He heard the sound of people in the hallway he had just walked down—it echoed. He turned, just as roughly twenty more enforcers stepped into the room, which was shrinking by the second. He caught a glimpse of Sage, and he opened his mouth to call out to her—
“Attention!”
Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the silence that followed that single word. Kierlan turned again, clutching his wet jacked in his hand. His father was standing on the other side of the room, eyeing the unsettled office Atrum, and the group of enforcers who had just walked through the door.
“I understand that many of you are off-duty today,” Aero began. “But… some unfortunate circumstances have arisen. Not all of you are allowed to know the details. But City 145, the closest City to us, has… been having some political issues. As a result, we will be taking in some of the citizens. This will not be a mass migration, or anything of the sort, but there will be people moving into our City. Not all of them are going to be legal, and not all of our people are going to be happy about this. I will elaborate on this further later tonight.”
The sound of outrage was deafening--people were yelling and talking all of a sudden. He rubbed his temples, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. It was impossible to believe. No one came from the other Cities. Ever. It didn't happen.
Aero spoke above the noise. “I need Jacobi, Zaine, Belladonna, Kierlan, and Sage to follow me into Interrogation-13.”
For a moment, no one moved—it seemed as though they were incapable of doing so. But then they did. Kierlan knew that it was just their training. They followed orders so, so well--this thought left him feeling bitter. They followed Aero down a long hallway, silent.
Kierlan was bursting with questions, but he was unable to ask them—he was choking on his own tongue. It was impossible to bring new people into the City. He had been taught, not just by Aero, his father, but by everyone he had ever known—people did not leave the City, and people did not enter the City. It didn’t happen.
The reached Interrogation-13, a large room at the very end of the Incarcerate.
“I chose you five to accompany me here, because I know you can keep a secret. And if you don’t, you know the consequences.” Aero paused, before unlocking the door. They stepped inside.
There was a man, chained to the wall. Kierlan could only stare. It was a person unlike any Kierlan had seen in the past—not because he looked strange, exactly. But there was something different about him, something wordless.
“This is Matthias Todd."
Mod
"I love you."
She was looking at me like you look at someone when you've told them something secret about yourself. It was a look that made me naked, more than she was, more than the raw emotion on her face. I was a kid in front of her.
And all I think was, of when were little, and we got into my parents clothes. She put on this dress over her shirt that was way too long, and she tried to climb into high heels, but instead of climbing into them she were falling out of them, and then I helped her put on a pearl necklace, and I started to dress up like my dad, in his too-big shoes and a button-up shirt and a tie, and my mother came in and yelled at us, because we'd torn her favorite scarf--
I was making a point. I really was. But the silence stretched on, and she spoke, her voice strange, and her face an alien landscape of uncertainty, and she said, "I just told you I love you."
"I know." My mouth made a shape like a smile, but it didn't fit right, and fell away. Her eyes were wide and blue and dark, but they were broken in so many ways, broken up like glass. Her mouth was a sharp line, her lips thinned, keeping all the words inside of her.
Blue, I had said once. You've got all the words in the world. Why don't you use them?
The second stretched out. It felt like infinity.
"I know," I repeated. "I loved that girl who wore a dress too big, and tore my mom's scarf, and danced with me in the rain when we were freshman. I loved that girl who would look at the stars, and say something like she meant it, and look at a road and think that it was an escape. I don't love you." I wanted to make it sound certain, but the crack in my voice was as broken as her eyes.
"Don't say that." Her mouth tilted, parted, her expression speared me. I was naked again, transparent, and if she looked like she used to, she'd see a mess that was me, Jonathan Crowley, a tangle of things and thoughts.
"What do you want me to say?" I asked. The lake lapped at the dock. "That it's okay, Blue? That it's okay you've fucked me over, again and again? You were my best friend, but you just wanted to rip me open, huh? You forgot about me."
"I didn't! God, that's not what I was trying to do!"
"It doesn't matter what you were trying to do! You did it, and you can't fix it! I've given you enough chances! Why do you love me now, huh? Is it because every guy that you've been with knows what a mess you really are? Is it because they can't love someone like you? Is it because they aren't real? I'm your last resort."
The words were bitter. So, so bitter. I wanted to be encased in barbwire. I wanted her to never hear me, I wanted to take back what I said, but I wouldn't and I couldn't anyway. But I wanted to hurt her, too, I wanted to make her bleed like she had made me bleed.
Her eyes were wounds in her face. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm so, so sorry."
"No, you're not." I said, and then I thought about it, thought of how I could hurt her, because she'd ripped something open inside of me, and now I was bleeding again. "You wanted everything to be about you. You wanted to hurt me. You wanted to see me get fucked up, you wanted to see me want you. That's what you get off on, Blue. You fuck people. Literally." And now I was sneering, and that felt right on my face, but the tears in her eyes didn't look right at all.
"I didn't mean to."
"Sure you didn't, Blue. Sure you didn't."
And I was staring at her, but what I was seeing was this kid, a kid with these eyes like oblivion and a mouth that promised a woman one day, and hair like a bird's nest, with this necklace on her neck and this too-long dress. And I was thinking of her, in the rain, smiling so wide her face was going to break, reaching out and asking me for a dance.
All I could think of was saying yes to that dance, but what I was really doing was turning around, walking away.
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Poema (Elizabeth) wrote: "I did one!Kristin Chenoweth - Fathers and Daughters
Annie sniffed, pulling her black jacket around as a tear rolled down her face. She wiped is away as the preacher ended the service. Blank ey..."
Awwww - that was so sweet! I loved it, Poema!
My sister and her friend are watching a movie, so I'll try this. But it probably won't be very good:
Tickets – Maroon 5
Laura leaned against the wall, the outcast of the party. She seemed to be watching the spots of disco lights that blinked in an array of colors before fading out.
Ryan was the only one who had wanted her. Laura had left him.
I had watched her since before Ryan noticed. How she browsed her phone for the answers to questions about life. How her eyes glossed the words before she turned her cell phone off. I knew that she was searching for things she shouldn’t be.
But I also knew a side of her that I was sure Ryan had never seen. Laura was lonely. I saw the emptiness in her eyes that one could fill. She worked in a small restaurant with coworkers who treated her like dirt. Ryan and I would hang out there on Thursday nights. I noticed how insecure she was. Laura acted like their banter didn’t reach her, but it actually damaged her in ways beyond imaging.
“All I want is to share with people,” she confessed to me one night, when Ryan wasn’t around. “But no one gives a flip. I’ve learned so much about life, and that’s why they hate me. They act as though it’s otherwise, but I see right through their lies.”
She kept trying, but nobody took notice of her advances. No one was ever interested in the tickets she so flippantly offered. I, on the other hand, wanted them badly. I enjoyed soaking up her wisdom. And I wanted Laura to know that, however horribly she performed, I would be singing along right there with her and cheering her on, regardless of her mistakes. Because she knew her lines well.
So I made my way over to her.
“What the h*** do you want?” she asked me moodily.
I just stared at her. She knew just as well as I did.
“An answer,” I whispered.
Laura perked up, awaiting my question.
“I want to listen to you. All this time, I’ve wanted to hear everything you have to say. Would you share your secrets with me?” I asked, mentally recoiling at how cheesy and incredibly crappy it sounded.
She gazed up at me, her tangled red hair not quite covering the hope in her eyes. “There is one I could share with you,” she breathed into my ear.
Before I could ask what she meant, Laura had handed me her tickets. She inserted her secrets into my mouth, and I accepted them gladly.
When she let go of me, I had no idea what to feel or say to her.
Laura laughed under her breath, and I smiled lovingly at her.
“There’s my secret,” she muttered. “You’d better keep it.”
And that...sucks. :/
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Kristin Chenoweth - Fathers and Daughters
Annie sniffed, pulling her black jacket around as a tear rolled down her face. She wiped is away as the preacher e..."
I liked it! Maroon Five = Love, and I just enjoy the way your character thought, and even though I don't know Laura very well (obviously) she seemed to be a pretty well-thought out character.
Poema: Of course! Thank you!Kriss: Thanks so much! You always have something positive to say about my work, and I really appreciate it!
Oh, I have to post my latest little pieces here.
Yes, you do!I should do another! And I have the perfect song!
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MAYBE I CAN WRITE SOMETHING AWESOME.