*♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
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*♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/10/2010, 2:54 pm
So this is just a thread where I'll be putting up little freewrites. 
I've got an idea to write at least one per week, based off of a song (title) and/or something off the prompt section. Just recently I claimed one that Pugs put up, and I'm working on it now.
This first post will probably be just a little table of contents or something. Who knows, it may have no purpose whatsoever! *shrugs*
Table of Contents
Recurring Dreams ... Page 1, post 4
Your Star .............. Page 2, post 6
Fake Flowers ......... Page 2, post 9
I've got an idea to write at least one per week, based off of a song (title) and/or something off the prompt section. Just recently I claimed one that Pugs put up, and I'm working on it now.This first post will probably be just a little table of contents or something. Who knows, it may have no purpose whatsoever! *shrugs*
Table of Contents
Recurring Dreams ... Page 1, post 4
Your Star .............. Page 2, post 6
Fake Flowers ......... Page 2, post 9
Last edited by Cyn431 on 4/16/2010, 9:33 pm; edited 6 times in total
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Avé 4/10/2010, 2:58 pm
I'll be keeping an eye on this. Can't wait to see what you write!
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/10/2010, 11:56 pm
Date: 4.10.10
Prompt: Recurring Dreams (thanks to Pugs)
I remember a crumbling pillar.
All remaining hope fled my body in a shrill cry, a shriek, as I nearly fell backwards with the collapsing stone. Everything was in a blur as I tried to find shelter behind a nearby wall, but soon that tumbled over as well. My head shot up towards the sky, towards the heavens, where I hoped God would assist in my moment of fate. Up there was also the moon, the spotlight from a helicopter, singling out the culprit. Except, I was the victim to-be, and the guy standing a few feet away with a gun was the wanted man.
"Move and you're going there too," the man's baritone rumbled under his breath, trying his best to sound threatening without revealing his presence to anyone who may be watching. I found it a pointless attempt, but since I remained in jeopardy, I assumed it didn't matter.
My eyes snapped shut in an instant. "Take me there," I dared him. The hiss of my voice surprised me. I didn't expect to hide my fear so badly. That thought alone seemed to shut down my defenses, for my face felt like it was instantly drenched in sweat. Surely it was glistening as well.
Then he did something I hadn't expected. I felt my pulse quicken and heard my gasps become louder when an icy circle pushed into my neck... the barrel of the gun. All my will was required to keep my sight in the darkness as something pressed into my side.
"Like where?" he asked. "First base?" The words were warm on my cheek, and that fear is just what forced me to take a look. Unfortunately, my fears were true. My murderer was just centimeters from my lips.
I'd expected to be scared out of my mind, but instead fire seemed to well up in my chest. A fire of revulsion. Actually, that wasn't the word at all. It was a fire that made me feel appalled. What kind of guy was this? I don't get to live if I don't kiss him? What was this, blackmail?
"I'm not up to bat," I muttered to him. It wasn't a good comeback, but it was better than nothing.
When I heard a click, I began to second guess my actions. "Ah, but I think you are," the man insisted, followed by a chuckle. Quickly I covered up my fear with a deep smirk, although I knew it was too late. He'd seen right through me.
"Oh really?" I asked in a low, falsely interested voice. I had to devise a plan, fast. Otherwise there would be some thunder without lightning. "Well, let me take a practice swing..." Hopefully he wouldn't interpret my words fast enough, 'cause that would be the end of me. Just as I thrust my suddenly conjured fist up to the gunman's chin, I heard a crack, but never did my knuckles meet skin.
As I fell into death's endless void, all I could see was one unbelievable thing, and think an unbelievable thought.
I couldn't believe it was you.
"Whoa, take it easy there, Kris!" yelped a familiar voice two octaves higher than I last heard it. I couldn't even remember when that was. I was too deep in shock to realize where I was, what was going on, who else was around, and what caused me to be be where I was. After several profound gasps and moments of stillness, I figured everything out.
"Sorry, Shannon," I apologized. My voice sounded hoarse, and my throat was sore and scratchy. I sat up in my bed, lifting my pillow to rest my head on. Slowly I took in the dim sunlight from my little window, the faint singing of the chickadees, the ruins of my bed covers, my fair sister allowing me to settle, and the time off a nearby clock: 8 in the morning. Believe it or not, that was an accomplishment. Sometimes I'd wake up at five in the morning.
I redirected my attention to Shannon. "Did I scream again?" I asked her in a moan.
A snort escaped her, but no humor danced across her face, which was unlike her. "Look at yourself!" she piped up, pointing across the room, where I knew a mirror stood.
Hesitantly, I followed Shannon's finger. Of course, a terror sat there. Her brunette hair, normally nice and straight, was a bird's nest without the eggs. Her ghostly pale face, slowly regaining color, was shimmering with sweat, but the rest of her body seemed dry. Somewhat strangely, little streaks of red pointed accusingly at hazel irises, trying to tell the viewer these eyes needed more rest, the indigo skin surrounding them used as evidence. Yep, that's what I looked like when I had a nightmare.
"Did you have that dream again?" Shannon asked, interrupting my examination. I could see her tilted head in the background of the reflection. She'd already straightened out her platinum blonde hair, falling to her chest without interruption. Two earthy green eyes blinked at my scared but anticipated image.
I turned to my sister and nodded. For months on end I've been having the same nightmare, following the same concept. Gradually more of it would be revealed to me. This past week I thought I had it all. The upcoming night would always prove me wrong with another crucial detail. First there was an outcome, then a time, and finally a face. A face I'd never forget. A face I couldn't replace.
A face that didn't belong there.
"Find anything new?" she queried in a curious tone. I didn't quite understand why she was so nosy about the situation, but I let it slip by anyway.
My shoulders rose and dropped in a shrug. "Well, I got shot again," I unnecessarily informed her. "It was nighttime... I died..." Should I tell her? Or keep that to myself?
"And?" Shannon prompted. I witnessed one eyebrow arch. She knew I was hiding something.
I glanced down at my lap, trying to hide my lies. "And then the police came, just a second late," I falsely added.
Shannon practically blew a razz-berry. "That's not important," she commented crisply. "I mean, if you're dead, what do the police matter?"
"Revenge?" I guessed, lifting my eyes to look at her. She'd taken a stand by the door. Her gaze looked over her shoulder to meet mine as her hand grasped the doorknob and opened the way to the rest of the house.
"Eh, maybe," said Shannon before leaving me to sit in my bed, all alone. The door was left ajar as I sat there and thought about the meaning behind these recurring dreams.
Twelve hours from that moment I was walking down the abandoned streets of my little town. Work was nothing to be amazed of, but it was always nice to chit chat with a good friend of mine from there, Peter Nelson.
Red Robin always has some interesting customers. Everything about the place was odd. Sure, it was one of the top fifty restaurants in America, so I heard, but why is there a location in the middle of virtually nowhere? And how often was it a walking distance from the apartment of five people in their 20s?
At one point both of us ran out of things to say, so we walked on silently for a few minutes. That time didn't last very long, for Peter had something to say, and it took me by surprise.
"So... I heard you were really hitting on that one guy."
"What?" I exclaimed, bewildered by the accusation. I whipped my head in his direction and glowered. What a terrible thing to say!
"You heard me," he grumbled in a much angry tone. His icy blue eyes glared back at me. "You were flirting with one of the customers! What happened to... To... Us?"
By now Peter had totally lost me. Flirting? With a customer? Us? "Um... You okay?" I asked, taking a few steps back.
That was a vital mistake. "I knew you'd crack," he whispered as he produced a shotgun from his back jeans pocket. The way he held it made it seem like he was trained to shoot, but I had no idea he could hurt a fly. What was wrong with Peter? "And I can too, you know, any time you ask for it."
My heart skipped a beat as I realized what he was saying. Slowly he began to advance on me. "Peter, what are you doing?" I came close to squeaking as I tried to take refuge behind a lamppost, dimly shining down on my surely paling face.
A smirk found a spot on Peter's face, and suddenly he fired just above my head, and the entire stand began to tremble. The whole scenario made me shriek out whatever faith I had left. Without a doubt, something was wrong with Peter, and... And it strangely resembled my dreams. Several more gunshots thundered as I desperately searched for another place to hide, since I knew I couldn't run, and my last possibility disintegrated like a blown down deck of cards.
Filled with fear and despair, I found myself checking the sky. The full moon stared down at me. I really, really hoped somebody else was looking down upon me too--in a good way, of course.
"Move and you're going there too," threatened Peter in a low voice. Just like my dreams. It was too unreal. What I'd dwelled upon for the last couple of months was happening right in front of me, almost like a story idea plotted out to the big screen... Or something.
I refused to watch my death, so I squeezed my eyelids together as tight as I could, to the point where I probably looked moronic. Nor did I have any intention to contribute to what I knew what was going to happen, but fate urged me forward. A strange temptation overwhelmed me, and I just had to hiss, "Take me there."
Everything was going according to plan. A gun was shoved into my neck in a final-warning manner, and Peter stood close to me, as if protecting his prey. "Like... first base?" he whispered.
Now, in my dream I made some corny retort which I couldn't remember. Whatever it was, I knew I hadn't shook my head--so I did that.
"Aw, come on," Peter said in a voice high and innocent for his standards. I heard a faint click. The gun was ready for fire once more. That's when the perspiration began, and I opened my eyes to look at Peter's mad face, much to my disliking. "For me?"
By now I was just infuriated. I couldn't put a reason behind it to words... But I just couldn't stand it. This was totally absurd. Why was any of this happening? Why did I have to die? Why was Peter going crazy? Why?!
"You know what, just shut up," I shouted at him, and I even tried to surprise myself by throwing a fist up for Peter. Then I really, really wished I hadn't done that. 'Cause right then, I heard a sound of thunder, a shrill rejoice, a siren, and my final wail of farewell. I was gone.
And I still can't believe it was you.
Prompt: Recurring Dreams (thanks to Pugs)
I remember a crumbling pillar.
All remaining hope fled my body in a shrill cry, a shriek, as I nearly fell backwards with the collapsing stone. Everything was in a blur as I tried to find shelter behind a nearby wall, but soon that tumbled over as well. My head shot up towards the sky, towards the heavens, where I hoped God would assist in my moment of fate. Up there was also the moon, the spotlight from a helicopter, singling out the culprit. Except, I was the victim to-be, and the guy standing a few feet away with a gun was the wanted man.
"Move and you're going there too," the man's baritone rumbled under his breath, trying his best to sound threatening without revealing his presence to anyone who may be watching. I found it a pointless attempt, but since I remained in jeopardy, I assumed it didn't matter.
My eyes snapped shut in an instant. "Take me there," I dared him. The hiss of my voice surprised me. I didn't expect to hide my fear so badly. That thought alone seemed to shut down my defenses, for my face felt like it was instantly drenched in sweat. Surely it was glistening as well.
Then he did something I hadn't expected. I felt my pulse quicken and heard my gasps become louder when an icy circle pushed into my neck... the barrel of the gun. All my will was required to keep my sight in the darkness as something pressed into my side.
"Like where?" he asked. "First base?" The words were warm on my cheek, and that fear is just what forced me to take a look. Unfortunately, my fears were true. My murderer was just centimeters from my lips.
I'd expected to be scared out of my mind, but instead fire seemed to well up in my chest. A fire of revulsion. Actually, that wasn't the word at all. It was a fire that made me feel appalled. What kind of guy was this? I don't get to live if I don't kiss him? What was this, blackmail?
"I'm not up to bat," I muttered to him. It wasn't a good comeback, but it was better than nothing.
When I heard a click, I began to second guess my actions. "Ah, but I think you are," the man insisted, followed by a chuckle. Quickly I covered up my fear with a deep smirk, although I knew it was too late. He'd seen right through me.
"Oh really?" I asked in a low, falsely interested voice. I had to devise a plan, fast. Otherwise there would be some thunder without lightning. "Well, let me take a practice swing..." Hopefully he wouldn't interpret my words fast enough, 'cause that would be the end of me. Just as I thrust my suddenly conjured fist up to the gunman's chin, I heard a crack, but never did my knuckles meet skin.
As I fell into death's endless void, all I could see was one unbelievable thing, and think an unbelievable thought.
I couldn't believe it was you.
--~~--~~--~~--
"Whoa, take it easy there, Kris!" yelped a familiar voice two octaves higher than I last heard it. I couldn't even remember when that was. I was too deep in shock to realize where I was, what was going on, who else was around, and what caused me to be be where I was. After several profound gasps and moments of stillness, I figured everything out.
"Sorry, Shannon," I apologized. My voice sounded hoarse, and my throat was sore and scratchy. I sat up in my bed, lifting my pillow to rest my head on. Slowly I took in the dim sunlight from my little window, the faint singing of the chickadees, the ruins of my bed covers, my fair sister allowing me to settle, and the time off a nearby clock: 8 in the morning. Believe it or not, that was an accomplishment. Sometimes I'd wake up at five in the morning.
I redirected my attention to Shannon. "Did I scream again?" I asked her in a moan.
A snort escaped her, but no humor danced across her face, which was unlike her. "Look at yourself!" she piped up, pointing across the room, where I knew a mirror stood.
Hesitantly, I followed Shannon's finger. Of course, a terror sat there. Her brunette hair, normally nice and straight, was a bird's nest without the eggs. Her ghostly pale face, slowly regaining color, was shimmering with sweat, but the rest of her body seemed dry. Somewhat strangely, little streaks of red pointed accusingly at hazel irises, trying to tell the viewer these eyes needed more rest, the indigo skin surrounding them used as evidence. Yep, that's what I looked like when I had a nightmare.
"Did you have that dream again?" Shannon asked, interrupting my examination. I could see her tilted head in the background of the reflection. She'd already straightened out her platinum blonde hair, falling to her chest without interruption. Two earthy green eyes blinked at my scared but anticipated image.
I turned to my sister and nodded. For months on end I've been having the same nightmare, following the same concept. Gradually more of it would be revealed to me. This past week I thought I had it all. The upcoming night would always prove me wrong with another crucial detail. First there was an outcome, then a time, and finally a face. A face I'd never forget. A face I couldn't replace.
A face that didn't belong there.
"Find anything new?" she queried in a curious tone. I didn't quite understand why she was so nosy about the situation, but I let it slip by anyway.
My shoulders rose and dropped in a shrug. "Well, I got shot again," I unnecessarily informed her. "It was nighttime... I died..." Should I tell her? Or keep that to myself?
"And?" Shannon prompted. I witnessed one eyebrow arch. She knew I was hiding something.
I glanced down at my lap, trying to hide my lies. "And then the police came, just a second late," I falsely added.
Shannon practically blew a razz-berry. "That's not important," she commented crisply. "I mean, if you're dead, what do the police matter?"
"Revenge?" I guessed, lifting my eyes to look at her. She'd taken a stand by the door. Her gaze looked over her shoulder to meet mine as her hand grasped the doorknob and opened the way to the rest of the house.
"Eh, maybe," said Shannon before leaving me to sit in my bed, all alone. The door was left ajar as I sat there and thought about the meaning behind these recurring dreams.
--~~--~~--~~--
Twelve hours from that moment I was walking down the abandoned streets of my little town. Work was nothing to be amazed of, but it was always nice to chit chat with a good friend of mine from there, Peter Nelson.
Red Robin always has some interesting customers. Everything about the place was odd. Sure, it was one of the top fifty restaurants in America, so I heard, but why is there a location in the middle of virtually nowhere? And how often was it a walking distance from the apartment of five people in their 20s?
At one point both of us ran out of things to say, so we walked on silently for a few minutes. That time didn't last very long, for Peter had something to say, and it took me by surprise.
"So... I heard you were really hitting on that one guy."
"What?" I exclaimed, bewildered by the accusation. I whipped my head in his direction and glowered. What a terrible thing to say!
"You heard me," he grumbled in a much angry tone. His icy blue eyes glared back at me. "You were flirting with one of the customers! What happened to... To... Us?"
By now Peter had totally lost me. Flirting? With a customer? Us? "Um... You okay?" I asked, taking a few steps back.
That was a vital mistake. "I knew you'd crack," he whispered as he produced a shotgun from his back jeans pocket. The way he held it made it seem like he was trained to shoot, but I had no idea he could hurt a fly. What was wrong with Peter? "And I can too, you know, any time you ask for it."
My heart skipped a beat as I realized what he was saying. Slowly he began to advance on me. "Peter, what are you doing?" I came close to squeaking as I tried to take refuge behind a lamppost, dimly shining down on my surely paling face.
A smirk found a spot on Peter's face, and suddenly he fired just above my head, and the entire stand began to tremble. The whole scenario made me shriek out whatever faith I had left. Without a doubt, something was wrong with Peter, and... And it strangely resembled my dreams. Several more gunshots thundered as I desperately searched for another place to hide, since I knew I couldn't run, and my last possibility disintegrated like a blown down deck of cards.
Filled with fear and despair, I found myself checking the sky. The full moon stared down at me. I really, really hoped somebody else was looking down upon me too--in a good way, of course.
"Move and you're going there too," threatened Peter in a low voice. Just like my dreams. It was too unreal. What I'd dwelled upon for the last couple of months was happening right in front of me, almost like a story idea plotted out to the big screen... Or something.
I refused to watch my death, so I squeezed my eyelids together as tight as I could, to the point where I probably looked moronic. Nor did I have any intention to contribute to what I knew what was going to happen, but fate urged me forward. A strange temptation overwhelmed me, and I just had to hiss, "Take me there."
Everything was going according to plan. A gun was shoved into my neck in a final-warning manner, and Peter stood close to me, as if protecting his prey. "Like... first base?" he whispered.
Now, in my dream I made some corny retort which I couldn't remember. Whatever it was, I knew I hadn't shook my head--so I did that.
"Aw, come on," Peter said in a voice high and innocent for his standards. I heard a faint click. The gun was ready for fire once more. That's when the perspiration began, and I opened my eyes to look at Peter's mad face, much to my disliking. "For me?"
By now I was just infuriated. I couldn't put a reason behind it to words... But I just couldn't stand it. This was totally absurd. Why was any of this happening? Why did I have to die? Why was Peter going crazy? Why?!
"You know what, just shut up," I shouted at him, and I even tried to surprise myself by throwing a fist up for Peter. Then I really, really wished I hadn't done that. 'Cause right then, I heard a sound of thunder, a shrill rejoice, a siren, and my final wail of farewell. I was gone.
And I still can't believe it was you.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by shadowsowner888 4/11/2010, 8:33 am
Cyn. o.0 Woah. That has to be one of the most amazing freewrites I've ever read.
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 12:16 pm
Oh--and I hope I made it at least vaguely understood Kris was a girl...
Really?
Now Cyn feels good. I considered the end crappy 'cause it was at ten in the evening. xD Thanks!
Really?
Now Cyn feels good. I considered the end crappy 'cause it was at ten in the evening. xD Thanks!
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Selene Hime 4/11/2010, 3:23 pm
O_O
That is amazing, Cyn! I loved it, and it's far better than you think it was.
That is amazing, Cyn! I loved it, and it's far better than you think it was.
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 4:02 pm
Thanks Selene. 
So far I've gotten two big-eyed smilies. I'm scared of what my writing can do... xD
So far I've gotten two big-eyed smilies. I'm scared of what my writing can do... xD
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by shadowsowner888 4/11/2010, 4:19 pm
Well, I thought Kris was a boy at first, and then I thought she was married, but I eventually figured out what was really going on. 
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 4:32 pm
Yeah, really the only hint I gave that Kris was a girl, was saying her brunette hair and her ghostly pale face... etc, etc. xP
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 5:28 pm
*goes to a word counter for first freewrite*
Holy crap... o.0 1890 words. And I thought freewrites were only supposed to cover the 1000 words a day challenge. xD
Holy crap... o.0 1890 words. And I thought freewrites were only supposed to cover the 1000 words a day challenge. xD
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by shadowsowner888 4/11/2010, 5:52 pm
Psht, freewrites can be any length. xD I wrote one almost as long as that once - 1600 or so. The half hour it took was very enjoyable.
The half hour it took was very enjoyable.
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 5:59 pm
Oh... xD That's good. 'Cause I dunno how long this next one's going to be.
Wow, 1600! That's awesome Shad.
At least you can do your freewrites in half an hour. It takes me that long, when totaled up, to know what I'd like to happen.
Wow, 1600!
That's awesome Shad.At least you can do your freewrites in half an hour. It takes me that long, when totaled up, to know what I'd like to happen.
Last edited by Cyn431 on 4/11/2010, 6:02 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by shadowsowner888 4/11/2010, 6:00 pm
Psht, well, it's hard to even be that fast for me. 
I think it was only cus I kinda knew where I was going.
I think it was only cus I kinda knew where I was going.
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 6:03 pm
Ah... I see. Yeah, it seems kind of hard to do that.
Gr, I'm mad at the title for this thing. The slash won't go away. 
I'm trying one more time...
YESH IT WORKED. xD
Yeah, it seems kind of hard to do that. I'm trying one more time...
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/11/2010, 9:14 pm
Date: 4.11.10
Prompt: Your Star by All-American Rejects
Sometimes I wonder if Lloyd understands what I go through, or if I'm pretty in my pain. I wonder if he knows what a blessing he is, and what a heartache he gives me. He'll never be able to stop this horror ride I've strapped myself into... or he refuses to. One of the two. Either way, both of us are very special.
I'm forbidden to talk. I can, but if I do, I violate the conditions my grandmother Rici set upon me as a little girl. You see, if I say a word within earshot of anyone but myself, someone dear to my heart dies. I think it has something to do with my ancestry, or my parents, or something along those lines, but I'm not sure. Having said that, this whole situation seems idiotic and parasitic. Nobody's gaining, everybody's hurting. Unless I really am pretty in my pain. Then I guess Lloyd may have his benefits.
But I can see the signs. The hatred in Rici's eyes, the deep fear in Mother's, the tension of the air... all whenever Lloyd's here. Something tells me the curse was rigged. He would die if I slipped.
Lloyd has the ability to control the mood of a dream. I don't know how he does it, but every night he stays with me, even if it's only to sing me to sleep, he scares away the nightmares of my life beneath the moon. Yet if Lloyd's not with me, unconsciousness haunts me. That's one reason why I always want him there, why he's a blessing. Everyday he comes to see me though, or leaves me a message, it becomes more and more tempting to tell him how much I love him. If I do, he'll die, and that's why he's a heartache.
Together, we're the perfect match that was never supposed to happen.
Every once in a while I've disappeared also. Rici didn't start dragging me off until I met Lloyd a few months ago. The first time was to warn me not to get into a deep relationship with him, if one at all. A few weeks after she strictly reminded me again. (You'd think she'd get that I understood her terms. I'm sixteen for God's sake!) Before I know it, poof! I'm off for a three weeks' vacation to "the Caribbean" for a lecture, huge compared to the typical three days' meetings.
Each time I'd gone away, Lloyd would worry about me like *heck*, or so he'd tell me. When I came back he'd pour out all of his worry in a jumble of nearly unintelligible words that would somehow tie themselves into a pretty bow at the end. That would really push my barriers, which locked in all my temptation to flood all of my love over both of us. Somehow I would tighten the cap on my bottled up emotions, smile and hug him tightly, enjoying the love of somebody. I never really did get a lot of love, ever.
Maybe it would help for me to describe Lloyd a bit. Lloyd's a tall, lanky guy with lightly tanned skin. He has a rather... Um, broad skull, featuring the kindest black eyes (ironically enough) and Billie Joe Armstrong hair. For some reason I really enjoy the way his personality tends to contrast his looks--oh, his salivating looks. Is that a good enough image?
Oh, heck, I just reread this and I feel so stupid. You know why he tortures me? 'Cause I could never tell him! And I'll never be able to! Ever!
Okay. .. . I think I might want to stop writing. . . My tears are obscuring the page.
Sincere regards,
Brianna Ornate
[center][font=Times New Roman][font=Lucida Handwriting]>>••••
Prompt: Your Star by All-American Rejects
She screams when I'm away
She's been gone before
I worried all the time
Why worry anymore?
Now I go away
Now I know today
I picked out your star
Turned night to day
A simple whisper from your voice
And I fade away
You wish for love
You push me away
Your love for me was everything
I need the air I breathe
She knows she's all alone
Her eyes, they drown in tears
Their love was meant to last
But she is blind with fear
Now I go away
Now I know today
There she goes,
There she goes,
There she goes
I picked out your star
Turned night to day
A simple whisper from your voice
And I fade away
You wish for love
You push me away
You're everything to me
She's been gone before
I worried all the time
Why worry anymore?
Now I go away
Now I know today
I picked out your star
Turned night to day
A simple whisper from your voice
And I fade away
You wish for love
You push me away
Your love for me was everything
I need the air I breathe
She knows she's all alone
Her eyes, they drown in tears
Their love was meant to last
But she is blind with fear
Now I go away
Now I know today
There she goes,
There she goes,
There she goes
I picked out your star
Turned night to day
A simple whisper from your voice
And I fade away
You wish for love
You push me away
You're everything to me
Sometimes I wonder if Lloyd understands what I go through, or if I'm pretty in my pain. I wonder if he knows what a blessing he is, and what a heartache he gives me. He'll never be able to stop this horror ride I've strapped myself into... or he refuses to. One of the two. Either way, both of us are very special.
I'm forbidden to talk. I can, but if I do, I violate the conditions my grandmother Rici set upon me as a little girl. You see, if I say a word within earshot of anyone but myself, someone dear to my heart dies. I think it has something to do with my ancestry, or my parents, or something along those lines, but I'm not sure. Having said that, this whole situation seems idiotic and parasitic. Nobody's gaining, everybody's hurting. Unless I really am pretty in my pain. Then I guess Lloyd may have his benefits.
But I can see the signs. The hatred in Rici's eyes, the deep fear in Mother's, the tension of the air... all whenever Lloyd's here. Something tells me the curse was rigged. He would die if I slipped.
Lloyd has the ability to control the mood of a dream. I don't know how he does it, but every night he stays with me, even if it's only to sing me to sleep, he scares away the nightmares of my life beneath the moon. Yet if Lloyd's not with me, unconsciousness haunts me. That's one reason why I always want him there, why he's a blessing. Everyday he comes to see me though, or leaves me a message, it becomes more and more tempting to tell him how much I love him. If I do, he'll die, and that's why he's a heartache.
Together, we're the perfect match that was never supposed to happen.
Every once in a while I've disappeared also. Rici didn't start dragging me off until I met Lloyd a few months ago. The first time was to warn me not to get into a deep relationship with him, if one at all. A few weeks after she strictly reminded me again. (You'd think she'd get that I understood her terms. I'm sixteen for God's sake!) Before I know it, poof! I'm off for a three weeks' vacation to "the Caribbean" for a lecture, huge compared to the typical three days' meetings.
Each time I'd gone away, Lloyd would worry about me like *heck*, or so he'd tell me. When I came back he'd pour out all of his worry in a jumble of nearly unintelligible words that would somehow tie themselves into a pretty bow at the end. That would really push my barriers, which locked in all my temptation to flood all of my love over both of us. Somehow I would tighten the cap on my bottled up emotions, smile and hug him tightly, enjoying the love of somebody. I never really did get a lot of love, ever.
Maybe it would help for me to describe Lloyd a bit. Lloyd's a tall, lanky guy with lightly tanned skin. He has a rather... Um, broad skull, featuring the kindest black eyes (ironically enough) and Billie Joe Armstrong hair. For some reason I really enjoy the way his personality tends to contrast his looks--oh, his salivating looks. Is that a good enough image?
Oh, heck, I just reread this and I feel so stupid. You know why he tortures me? 'Cause I could never tell him! And I'll never be able to! Ever!
Okay. .. . I think I might want to stop writing. . . My tears are obscuring the page.
Sincere regards,
Brianna Ornate
[center][font=Times New Roman][font=Lucida Handwriting]>>••••
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/12/2010, 9:46 pm
Yesh, poor Brianna.
I would've added more onto that freewrite, but it was getting REALLY late (again) and I just didn't find it right to drag out a freewrite for over a day. xP
Wait a minute... *looks up**screams* NUUUUUUU!!!!!
It. Didn't. Post. An. Entire. SECTION. D:D:D:D:D:
I would've added more onto that freewrite, but it was getting REALLY late (again) and I just didn't find it right to drag out a freewrite for over a day. xP
Wait a minute... *looks up**screams* NUUUUUUU!!!!!
It. Didn't. Post. An. Entire. SECTION. D:D:D:D:D:
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/16/2010, 9:32 pm
Date: 4.16.10
Prompt: Fake Flowers (thanks to Shadow)
"I love you, Meredith Linkenberg."
That's what they all said. Every graduation, every year. It's the same thing from every boy. Five proposals in kindergarten, twenty confessions in fifth grade, thirty flowers in eighth grade. Now I'm drowning in affection at my graduation, but with much less attention these days by the spectators. After so many shocks everything has to die off at one point.
When the worn out words echoed on the walls, the usual scene happened. My cheeks flooded a magenta color from the rushing blood. Nobody can see my eyes as I hide my face, not that anyone was looking. Bones audibly crumbled from behind the back door. With each muffled sound of terror, seemingly left be by everyone else, a new tear contributed to the pool in my lower eyelids, ready to burst the dam. This happened so often, no one bothered to try to comfort me. They knew--or at least thought they knew--I could deal with this on my own. I am a senior, after all.
Closing remarks were given, and I bolted outside. I had to run away from the torture, the agony I'd planted in almost every boy's heart, which by now was a blossoming Sakura tree. The sooner I slammed the door, the stricter I flick the keys, and the harder I hit the gas, the less pain I'd hand out.
To my relief nobody followed me home. For one night, I really needed my privacy, and I would embrace the hour I had left alone. That is, alone with my twenty boxes of chocolates, ten bouquets and other various gifts.
It was almost a daily ritual now to shove everything away before walking around inside. Having said that, organization didn't take too long. I always found it a tad harder when I got to my room and saw some more flowers and a teddy bear or two. Nevertheless things soon looked like nobody had ever stepped in.
You know, nobody is just the word I can't have. Nobody in love with me. Nobody sending me gifts I don't deserve. Nobody admitting their love to me in front of hundreds of people at a senior graduation. Nobody wasting their money, hopes and dreams on me.
But nobody is loved more than me. Nobody else gets gifts they don't deserve. Nobody else is the reason behind a confession of love. Nobody else is the reason several boys waste away their money, hopes and dreams.
Nobody. Except for Tommy.
Tommy was probably the greatest guy-friend anyone could have. He's the one guy at the school who will say they don't like me as more than a friend and mean it. He sort of gives me a sense of hope, like there are people out there who won't fall head over heels for my eyes, or face, or legs, or whatever it is. Sometimes I think I love Tommy because he doesn't love me.
Every once in a while I'll check back with Tommy, "Why me?"
And each time I say that, he'll reply just the same way. "Mary, who wouldn't love a smart, witty, outgoing, gorgeous young lady?"
I'll say, "You."
Then we'll leave the conversation be.
I wonder now and then if he's teasing, or he's real good at faking his promise. It's not even a promise, really, just sort of something the two of us agreed to. I also wonder if Tommy's noticed I've sort of broken that agreement.
Anyway, I'm starting to ramble. Everything in my room is put away, and all the notes are read, but I chose to leave one vase on my nightstand. The slender glass shape holds thirty flowers, way too many than it seems capable of. There's one of every specimen I can think of--lily, daffodil, carnation, tulip, violet, forget-me-not, daisy, sunflower, rose (of course), and several others that I can't put a name to at the moment.
Why did I leave it out? I almost always follow the directions on the notes, if there are any, and these in particular intrigued me. Woven in a swirly cursive I didn't recognize, the instructions were really simple.
All I ask is you leave this vase on your nightstand until you can see what's at the bottom.
Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I obeyed. So I slept, night after night, and checked back every evening to pluck out whatever flowers had wilted. After a week I became impatient. Some of the flowers were fading a bit too slow for my liking. I really wanted to know what was at the bottom!
One day I looked inside, and stuck to the inside of the glass was another piece of paper. A squeal whistled out from my resisting lips as I jerked it out. The delicate parchment was folded. Part of it was lightly torn due to my careless movement. Cautiously I unfolded the note, and found my free hand at my mouth in an instant.
Never thought it would be me, did you, Mary? Sorry I broke our little promise... But you know what I say every time you ask. Who wouldn't love a smart, witty, outgoing, gorgeous young lady?
The answer is you.
Meredith, no one can resist you. As an old friend I kind of just got used to you, or at least I thought so. But it turns out the other guys have a reason to be drooling all over you--well, not literally, but you know what I mean.
I'm not going to give you another phrase you always hear. So, Meredith Linkenberg, I really really really like you.
-- Tommy
P,S,: You might need what's at the bottom.
I blinked away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably. Tommy loved me. He really loved me. I loved Tommy. I really loved him back.
Then I realized something. I might need what's at the bottom? My hands grasped the remaining flower, the rose, and felt along the top half of the stalk. Bare. Nothing. Then my finger stirred around inside the petals. Not a single seed.
A fake. Of course. Love should never die.
Swiftly my eyes dropped and saw a little speck of velvet hanging around near the bottom of the vase. I reached inside, brushing my fingertips along the smooth material before lifting that out too.
The velvet covered a little box entirely, and I think I knew what was coming up. I shut my eyes instinctively before slowly prying open the lids of the red container, and then doing the same with my eyelids. Tears flew like crazy at the beautiful, sparkling baby blue diamond sitting peacefully in a small cavity of the golden band, more diamonds specked in the ring. It was an engagement ring, and the most gorgeous inanimate thing I'd ever seen.
"You were right, Tommy," I said to the open in between shaky, almost unstoppable sobs. "I do."
And the gold settled around my third finger, and it seemed like it was super gluing itself there. Forever.
Prompt: Fake Flowers (thanks to Shadow)
"I love you, Meredith Linkenberg."
That's what they all said. Every graduation, every year. It's the same thing from every boy. Five proposals in kindergarten, twenty confessions in fifth grade, thirty flowers in eighth grade. Now I'm drowning in affection at my graduation, but with much less attention these days by the spectators. After so many shocks everything has to die off at one point.
When the worn out words echoed on the walls, the usual scene happened. My cheeks flooded a magenta color from the rushing blood. Nobody can see my eyes as I hide my face, not that anyone was looking. Bones audibly crumbled from behind the back door. With each muffled sound of terror, seemingly left be by everyone else, a new tear contributed to the pool in my lower eyelids, ready to burst the dam. This happened so often, no one bothered to try to comfort me. They knew--or at least thought they knew--I could deal with this on my own. I am a senior, after all.
Closing remarks were given, and I bolted outside. I had to run away from the torture, the agony I'd planted in almost every boy's heart, which by now was a blossoming Sakura tree. The sooner I slammed the door, the stricter I flick the keys, and the harder I hit the gas, the less pain I'd hand out.
To my relief nobody followed me home. For one night, I really needed my privacy, and I would embrace the hour I had left alone. That is, alone with my twenty boxes of chocolates, ten bouquets and other various gifts.
It was almost a daily ritual now to shove everything away before walking around inside. Having said that, organization didn't take too long. I always found it a tad harder when I got to my room and saw some more flowers and a teddy bear or two. Nevertheless things soon looked like nobody had ever stepped in.
You know, nobody is just the word I can't have. Nobody in love with me. Nobody sending me gifts I don't deserve. Nobody admitting their love to me in front of hundreds of people at a senior graduation. Nobody wasting their money, hopes and dreams on me.
But nobody is loved more than me. Nobody else gets gifts they don't deserve. Nobody else is the reason behind a confession of love. Nobody else is the reason several boys waste away their money, hopes and dreams.
Nobody. Except for Tommy.
Tommy was probably the greatest guy-friend anyone could have. He's the one guy at the school who will say they don't like me as more than a friend and mean it. He sort of gives me a sense of hope, like there are people out there who won't fall head over heels for my eyes, or face, or legs, or whatever it is. Sometimes I think I love Tommy because he doesn't love me.
Every once in a while I'll check back with Tommy, "Why me?"
And each time I say that, he'll reply just the same way. "Mary, who wouldn't love a smart, witty, outgoing, gorgeous young lady?"
I'll say, "You."
Then we'll leave the conversation be.
I wonder now and then if he's teasing, or he's real good at faking his promise. It's not even a promise, really, just sort of something the two of us agreed to. I also wonder if Tommy's noticed I've sort of broken that agreement.
Anyway, I'm starting to ramble. Everything in my room is put away, and all the notes are read, but I chose to leave one vase on my nightstand. The slender glass shape holds thirty flowers, way too many than it seems capable of. There's one of every specimen I can think of--lily, daffodil, carnation, tulip, violet, forget-me-not, daisy, sunflower, rose (of course), and several others that I can't put a name to at the moment.
Why did I leave it out? I almost always follow the directions on the notes, if there are any, and these in particular intrigued me. Woven in a swirly cursive I didn't recognize, the instructions were really simple.
All I ask is you leave this vase on your nightstand until you can see what's at the bottom.
Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I obeyed. So I slept, night after night, and checked back every evening to pluck out whatever flowers had wilted. After a week I became impatient. Some of the flowers were fading a bit too slow for my liking. I really wanted to know what was at the bottom!
One day I looked inside, and stuck to the inside of the glass was another piece of paper. A squeal whistled out from my resisting lips as I jerked it out. The delicate parchment was folded. Part of it was lightly torn due to my careless movement. Cautiously I unfolded the note, and found my free hand at my mouth in an instant.
Never thought it would be me, did you, Mary? Sorry I broke our little promise... But you know what I say every time you ask. Who wouldn't love a smart, witty, outgoing, gorgeous young lady?
The answer is you.
Meredith, no one can resist you. As an old friend I kind of just got used to you, or at least I thought so. But it turns out the other guys have a reason to be drooling all over you--well, not literally, but you know what I mean.
I'm not going to give you another phrase you always hear. So, Meredith Linkenberg, I really really really like you.
-- Tommy
P,S,: You might need what's at the bottom.
I blinked away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably. Tommy loved me. He really loved me. I loved Tommy. I really loved him back.
Then I realized something. I might need what's at the bottom? My hands grasped the remaining flower, the rose, and felt along the top half of the stalk. Bare. Nothing. Then my finger stirred around inside the petals. Not a single seed.
A fake. Of course. Love should never die.
Swiftly my eyes dropped and saw a little speck of velvet hanging around near the bottom of the vase. I reached inside, brushing my fingertips along the smooth material before lifting that out too.
The velvet covered a little box entirely, and I think I knew what was coming up. I shut my eyes instinctively before slowly prying open the lids of the red container, and then doing the same with my eyelids. Tears flew like crazy at the beautiful, sparkling baby blue diamond sitting peacefully in a small cavity of the golden band, more diamonds specked in the ring. It was an engagement ring, and the most gorgeous inanimate thing I'd ever seen.
"You were right, Tommy," I said to the open in between shaky, almost unstoppable sobs. "I do."
And the gold settled around my third finger, and it seemed like it was super gluing itself there. Forever.
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That was amazing!
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by PugsRock 4/17/2010, 9:48 am
Thanks for using my prompt. Cyn! (: It's really good.
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 4/17/2010, 10:14 am
Thanks Shad!
You're welcome, Pugs. x3 It was fun to think up!
You're welcome, Pugs. x3 It was fun to think up!
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 7/17/2010, 11:54 pm
Alright, so, um. Once more the DE has driven me mad and insane and any other synonym you can pull out of the blue clear sky. With evil plots, that is. And romantic ones. And, um, yeah, that kind of stuff. ^^; Unfortunately my puny little brain doesn't have the patience to wait to RP it out, so I've got to freewrite out my plots, one of which I'll start on the moment after I post this.
HOWEVER. I don't think any of the main three people involved read these, but just for security reasons, names will be censored, minus my most/least favorite character in the whole wide world because there's no reason to hide her. x3 / 3x
So, um, yeah. Point made. *hides into dark corner with typewriter*
HOWEVER. I don't think any of the main three people involved read these, but just for security reasons, names will be censored, minus my most/least favorite character in the whole wide world because there's no reason to hide her. x3 / 3x
So, um, yeah. Point made. *hides into dark corner with typewriter*
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Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 7/18/2010, 12:54 am
Date: 7.18.10
Prompt: DE Urge + Franklin, by Paramore.
A knock vibrated through the bark of the wood on the tree I stood on, making me snap my head downward to check on the visitor. "Who—" I'd began to say. Quickly I stopped myself when I saw that friendly face down below, one that could only belong to my best friend. Rather, he was my only friend outside of family when I thought about it. "Hey Kasey," I called down with a smile growing on my face.
Not anticipating any surprises, I turned back around and focused on climbing higher up the tree. "Hey Crys," he gave generally the same message to my back. As I reached three more branches higher up the tree (yes, I was a very good climber), I felt Alex latch onto the wood and start climbing up as well. "What're you doing?" his welcoming voice queried, an exhalation of relief following right behind once he'd gotten up the first branch.
"Searching for my..." I paused to shove my hand into a sphere of leaves at the edge of the next highest branch, only to soon pull it back out with a small beige bag. "... runaway supply."
Now that I had what I needed, I chose to turn back around and face Kasey as I swiftly lowered myself to the branch he was on. I'd turned around fast enough to see confusion scrunch up his face. "Your what?" he asked for repetition.
"My secret stash," I renamed the package in my right hand. I took a seat next to my friend and placed the tan bit of fabric on my lap. My fingers shyly peeked inside and stole an apple, bouncing it into the air only to have it softly tap against their tips before repeating.
I tore my gaze from the rosy red fruit and back to Kasey. Throughout the past five seconds he'd taken on a look that suggested he was determined to get to the root of whatever I was doing. "Crystal Spilmor, why are you running away?" he began to question me.
That was one question I really didn't want to answer. Yes, I knew perfectly well why, but it wasn't a comfortable topic at the moment. "I'd rather not talk about it," I replied, my voice just a tiny bit hoarse just from thinking about the truth.
Kasey appeared to totally understand, and moved on. "Well, where are you going?" he asked.
I had to think about that one for a moment. Where was I going? To the main town? To the King's castle? To the country, also known as the middle of nowhere? "I don't think that's something important," I ended up saying to him. "Anywhere but home."
It wasn't even right to call the place home. It wasn't even a house. It was a prison. See, where I live, dragons are against the law. My parents make a living off of disposing of those that remain while also teaching my many siblings and me how to succeed the current generation of Slayers when they're gone. I think all dragons go to heaven while the ones that teach them to do wrongful duties are the ones that go elsewhere. Having said that, there's no way I could live in that jail anymore. It's like a snow rabbit living inside a wolf's den.
Now, that wasn't the entire reason why I was running off, because if it were I would have fled years ago. Something else was bugging me too.
"Maybe we should figure that out—oh, speaking of that," Kasey said, taking his hand and lightly pushing on my right cheek to make me face left and right at his face, inches from my own. "What am I gonna have to bring?"
I found myself blinking rapidly, perhaps trying to hold back all the emotions that were probably leaking through my clear, crystalline cerulean irises right there and then. We? What he should bring? What was he talking about? This wasn't going to be a walk to the carnival. I was running away to be safe from the dangers that are being laid ahead of me for the years to come. This was me swinging from vine to carnivorous-primate-infested vine over that road so I wouldn't have to suffer from it, even if it meant taking pain from other things in order to maintain my goal.
Unlike me, Kasey didn't have anything to run from. Last I checked, his older Slayer brother Link had never tried to kill him, while I'd faced sword point at least once a year in all fourteen of mine. Sure he was my best friend just like I was his, and maybe he was the last thing I wanted to (but had to) sacrifice, but why was he risking his life to tag along?
"Er-Um," I stuttered, just to prove I was alive after the couple of seconds I'd spent silently from shock. "Are you sure you want to give it all up? You're not the one that's nearly killed at least once a year."
"Is that what's bothering you?" he jumped topics without missing a beat.
Believe it or not, he was partially right. He still wasn't dead on, but he was getting warmer. Sort of. "Yes and no," I responded before returning to more important matters. "But still—you're able to study, read, all of those great things that normal kids get to do, and coming on this road with me would throw away all of that." I tried to really look into Kasey's eyes, blue like my own, even though he was pretty much already doing that. "Are you willing to do that just to stick with me?" Secretly I was hoping he was going to say yes, but the smart side of me was praying to the maximum that he would wake up to his senses.
Whether it was good or not, my naive side got what it asked for without any hesitation on Kasey's part. "Crys, if you go on the road, you'll have nobody, not a soul," he started some kind of lecture. "I don't know about you, but I consider you my best friend, maybe even my only friend. I'd never forgive myself if I let you go out on your own like this only for you to get hurt." I watched as his gaze fell to the dark wood beneath us, almost in a sheepish manner, like he had a feeling he was fighting a losing battle. "And the world would be pretty boring without someone like you who has a talent for stirring things up." Soon his eyes had returned to meet mine, a deeper positive note in them. "Besides, pairs have always worked in the past, so why should they fail you on this one?"
A hopeful, begging smile crawled onto his face. Why was it that I could never turn down a smile like that? I sighed in defeat, tossing the apple in the air one last time to let it fall in the bag. Then I turned back to face forward again, my head tilted down towards the sack. "Fine," I sealed the agreement, tightening the top of the bag to close it good. "Tag along if you want."
Soon enough that smile of Kasey's brightened into a grin of triumph. "Then I still need to know what to bring," he brought up the subject again.
I looked back up at him and gave a half-smile, one that showed the happiness only to Kasey. "Come on, you read a lot, you ought to know what to bring," I teased a bit. "Come back in an hour?" I checked with him.
For a second he seemed surprised by the measurement of time provided, but he went along with it anyway. "Works for me," he replied.
Both of us turned our heads when we heard my name being called in the distance by a familiar, unfriendly voice. A tiny lump formed in my throat, but it wasn't big enough for me to need to gulp it down, nor was the size major enough to alter my speech. "Meet at the lake," I hissed in a blur of words. "Hurry!" I added in the same tone before dropping from the tree and making a run for the body of water about half a mile off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's getting late, so I'll write Part 2 of this freewrite tomorrow.
Prompt: DE Urge + Franklin, by Paramore.
A knock vibrated through the bark of the wood on the tree I stood on, making me snap my head downward to check on the visitor. "Who—" I'd began to say. Quickly I stopped myself when I saw that friendly face down below, one that could only belong to my best friend. Rather, he was my only friend outside of family when I thought about it. "Hey Kasey," I called down with a smile growing on my face.
Not anticipating any surprises, I turned back around and focused on climbing higher up the tree. "Hey Crys," he gave generally the same message to my back. As I reached three more branches higher up the tree (yes, I was a very good climber), I felt Alex latch onto the wood and start climbing up as well. "What're you doing?" his welcoming voice queried, an exhalation of relief following right behind once he'd gotten up the first branch.
"Searching for my..." I paused to shove my hand into a sphere of leaves at the edge of the next highest branch, only to soon pull it back out with a small beige bag. "... runaway supply."
Now that I had what I needed, I chose to turn back around and face Kasey as I swiftly lowered myself to the branch he was on. I'd turned around fast enough to see confusion scrunch up his face. "Your what?" he asked for repetition.
"My secret stash," I renamed the package in my right hand. I took a seat next to my friend and placed the tan bit of fabric on my lap. My fingers shyly peeked inside and stole an apple, bouncing it into the air only to have it softly tap against their tips before repeating.
I tore my gaze from the rosy red fruit and back to Kasey. Throughout the past five seconds he'd taken on a look that suggested he was determined to get to the root of whatever I was doing. "Crystal Spilmor, why are you running away?" he began to question me.
That was one question I really didn't want to answer. Yes, I knew perfectly well why, but it wasn't a comfortable topic at the moment. "I'd rather not talk about it," I replied, my voice just a tiny bit hoarse just from thinking about the truth.
Kasey appeared to totally understand, and moved on. "Well, where are you going?" he asked.
I had to think about that one for a moment. Where was I going? To the main town? To the King's castle? To the country, also known as the middle of nowhere? "I don't think that's something important," I ended up saying to him. "Anywhere but home."
It wasn't even right to call the place home. It wasn't even a house. It was a prison. See, where I live, dragons are against the law. My parents make a living off of disposing of those that remain while also teaching my many siblings and me how to succeed the current generation of Slayers when they're gone. I think all dragons go to heaven while the ones that teach them to do wrongful duties are the ones that go elsewhere. Having said that, there's no way I could live in that jail anymore. It's like a snow rabbit living inside a wolf's den.
Now, that wasn't the entire reason why I was running off, because if it were I would have fled years ago. Something else was bugging me too.
"Maybe we should figure that out—oh, speaking of that," Kasey said, taking his hand and lightly pushing on my right cheek to make me face left and right at his face, inches from my own. "What am I gonna have to bring?"
I found myself blinking rapidly, perhaps trying to hold back all the emotions that were probably leaking through my clear, crystalline cerulean irises right there and then. We? What he should bring? What was he talking about? This wasn't going to be a walk to the carnival. I was running away to be safe from the dangers that are being laid ahead of me for the years to come. This was me swinging from vine to carnivorous-primate-infested vine over that road so I wouldn't have to suffer from it, even if it meant taking pain from other things in order to maintain my goal.
Unlike me, Kasey didn't have anything to run from. Last I checked, his older Slayer brother Link had never tried to kill him, while I'd faced sword point at least once a year in all fourteen of mine. Sure he was my best friend just like I was his, and maybe he was the last thing I wanted to (but had to) sacrifice, but why was he risking his life to tag along?
"Er-Um," I stuttered, just to prove I was alive after the couple of seconds I'd spent silently from shock. "Are you sure you want to give it all up? You're not the one that's nearly killed at least once a year."
"Is that what's bothering you?" he jumped topics without missing a beat.
Believe it or not, he was partially right. He still wasn't dead on, but he was getting warmer. Sort of. "Yes and no," I responded before returning to more important matters. "But still—you're able to study, read, all of those great things that normal kids get to do, and coming on this road with me would throw away all of that." I tried to really look into Kasey's eyes, blue like my own, even though he was pretty much already doing that. "Are you willing to do that just to stick with me?" Secretly I was hoping he was going to say yes, but the smart side of me was praying to the maximum that he would wake up to his senses.
Whether it was good or not, my naive side got what it asked for without any hesitation on Kasey's part. "Crys, if you go on the road, you'll have nobody, not a soul," he started some kind of lecture. "I don't know about you, but I consider you my best friend, maybe even my only friend. I'd never forgive myself if I let you go out on your own like this only for you to get hurt." I watched as his gaze fell to the dark wood beneath us, almost in a sheepish manner, like he had a feeling he was fighting a losing battle. "And the world would be pretty boring without someone like you who has a talent for stirring things up." Soon his eyes had returned to meet mine, a deeper positive note in them. "Besides, pairs have always worked in the past, so why should they fail you on this one?"
A hopeful, begging smile crawled onto his face. Why was it that I could never turn down a smile like that? I sighed in defeat, tossing the apple in the air one last time to let it fall in the bag. Then I turned back to face forward again, my head tilted down towards the sack. "Fine," I sealed the agreement, tightening the top of the bag to close it good. "Tag along if you want."
Soon enough that smile of Kasey's brightened into a grin of triumph. "Then I still need to know what to bring," he brought up the subject again.
I looked back up at him and gave a half-smile, one that showed the happiness only to Kasey. "Come on, you read a lot, you ought to know what to bring," I teased a bit. "Come back in an hour?" I checked with him.
For a second he seemed surprised by the measurement of time provided, but he went along with it anyway. "Works for me," he replied.
Both of us turned our heads when we heard my name being called in the distance by a familiar, unfriendly voice. A tiny lump formed in my throat, but it wasn't big enough for me to need to gulp it down, nor was the size major enough to alter my speech. "Meet at the lake," I hissed in a blur of words. "Hurry!" I added in the same tone before dropping from the tree and making a run for the body of water about half a mile off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's getting late, so I'll write Part 2 of this freewrite tomorrow.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
- Posts : 5161
Join date : 2009-07-07
Age : 26
Re: *♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*
by Cyn431 7/20/2010, 7:26 pm
Date: 7.19.10
Prompt: DE Plot + Franklin by Paramore.
Part Two
Upon arriving at the lake, I crouched down and stared into the deep murky waters. Even though I didn't really get to come here often, it easily landed the spot as my favorite place to be. Something about the area seemed... enchanted. Like nothing could hurt me here. Everything was perfect.
As I waited for Kasey to arrive, I gave a good hard and long look at that white heart shaped face looking back at me from against the faint black ripples. It kind of reminded me of how my life was: the world around me—my family primarily—was dark, evil, and consuming of all of its surroundings. And yet, here I sat and endured, this beacon of light in the middle of the darkness. Was I a beacon of light, hope and other good things, or was I just a foolish girl trying to renegade from family traditions? I wasn't sure, though I hoped it was the former.
I also noticed the stray scars on my neck and face. A small one poked at the outer corner of my right eye, a large one streaked across the right side of the front of my neck and one more was hidden behind my ear. The first and last wounds were rather unlikely places to find such, but oh well. I was unlikely overall anyway. Thinking about these scars, I figured they resembled the hardships I'd withstood in order to continue rebelling against my family's old ways.
Then a boy came over and sat next to me. He had the same pale skin (though not nearly as bad as my own), blue eyes and blond hair. If there was supposed to be a boy version of me in this world, one that almost perfectly reflected myself, it would have to be him.
I guess I hadn't realized that was how I pictured Kasey before.
Soon realizing it wasn't just my imagination, I smoothly turned my head so it was facing my runaway partner. I watched as a kind smile crawled onto his lips, and I could feel an almost identical one coming onto mine, further proving the perfect reflection thing. "You ready to go?" I asked him.
Kasey nodded. "Let's go," he suggested, standing up and looking behind him as he waited an extra second for me to do the same. He half turned to begin walking forward, but then paused once hesitation had crept in. "Er, where are we going again?" he asked, looking back to me.
A little part of me urged me to have him take lead. I don't know why, but it just did, and I didn't have any reason to fight against it, so why not? "I don't know," I replied, my voice already telling him that I had something in mind. "Where do you think we should go?" My eyebrows automatically rose. Why, I don't know, but again, I couldn't find a reason to stop them.
Kasey rose an eyebrow to me, seeming surprised by the fired back question. He then took on a thinking face as his feet already began to slowly take him somewhere. "Mm..." he hummed as he thought, the tone he used suggesting it wasn't the end of whatever he was going to say. Finally he appeared to have come to a decision after some random walking, and focused his attention on whatever path he'd chosen. "This way," my friend declared, his pace become more brisk as we headed forward.
And so began our trek.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
five months later
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Think they're fresh enough?" I asked Kasey, both of us continuing to scrutinize a specific bunch of bananas hidden amongst many others in the food market.
My best and only friend didn't respond immediately, but he did at one point. "Good enough," he reckoned after another minute, and snatched the chartreuse fruits. He slipped them inside the grocery bag, already partially filled with other edible and various needs for the next month or so (which wasn't really much). His hand shook the plastic a little bit, testing the weight. "Think we've got enough?" Kasey asked me in return, looking up to meet my gaze.
"I would think, judging that's less than what we got last time, and we still have left overs," I spoke my word. I added in a nod as if that would help reassure the fact. "Let's go ahead and head out."
So with that the two of us walked right out of the two doors. Neither of us even bothered to pay the cashiers a spare glance; security was terrible at the food markets where we were running through. Still, just to be sure, both of us instantly began sprinting for the tall grasses where we were keeping ourselves safe and in hiding for the time being. It was really tempting to start giggling like a little child as the plants tickled against my legs, slightly exposed from my torn up gym shorts. But I knew better. Plus the fact any extra sound could get oneself killed was some extra motivation not to do anything.
"Hey Crys," Kasey said, throwing the bag on top of our remaining supplies. His tone suggested he had something serious to say, and I prepared myself for the worst as I looked up at him. (I never did realize how significantly taller he was compared to myself.) "You don't think... Maybe we should head back?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looks like I've got to wait and continue later.
Prompt: DE Plot + Franklin by Paramore.
Part Two
Upon arriving at the lake, I crouched down and stared into the deep murky waters. Even though I didn't really get to come here often, it easily landed the spot as my favorite place to be. Something about the area seemed... enchanted. Like nothing could hurt me here. Everything was perfect.
As I waited for Kasey to arrive, I gave a good hard and long look at that white heart shaped face looking back at me from against the faint black ripples. It kind of reminded me of how my life was: the world around me—my family primarily—was dark, evil, and consuming of all of its surroundings. And yet, here I sat and endured, this beacon of light in the middle of the darkness. Was I a beacon of light, hope and other good things, or was I just a foolish girl trying to renegade from family traditions? I wasn't sure, though I hoped it was the former.
I also noticed the stray scars on my neck and face. A small one poked at the outer corner of my right eye, a large one streaked across the right side of the front of my neck and one more was hidden behind my ear. The first and last wounds were rather unlikely places to find such, but oh well. I was unlikely overall anyway. Thinking about these scars, I figured they resembled the hardships I'd withstood in order to continue rebelling against my family's old ways.
Then a boy came over and sat next to me. He had the same pale skin (though not nearly as bad as my own), blue eyes and blond hair. If there was supposed to be a boy version of me in this world, one that almost perfectly reflected myself, it would have to be him.
I guess I hadn't realized that was how I pictured Kasey before.
Soon realizing it wasn't just my imagination, I smoothly turned my head so it was facing my runaway partner. I watched as a kind smile crawled onto his lips, and I could feel an almost identical one coming onto mine, further proving the perfect reflection thing. "You ready to go?" I asked him.
Kasey nodded. "Let's go," he suggested, standing up and looking behind him as he waited an extra second for me to do the same. He half turned to begin walking forward, but then paused once hesitation had crept in. "Er, where are we going again?" he asked, looking back to me.
A little part of me urged me to have him take lead. I don't know why, but it just did, and I didn't have any reason to fight against it, so why not? "I don't know," I replied, my voice already telling him that I had something in mind. "Where do you think we should go?" My eyebrows automatically rose. Why, I don't know, but again, I couldn't find a reason to stop them.
Kasey rose an eyebrow to me, seeming surprised by the fired back question. He then took on a thinking face as his feet already began to slowly take him somewhere. "Mm..." he hummed as he thought, the tone he used suggesting it wasn't the end of whatever he was going to say. Finally he appeared to have come to a decision after some random walking, and focused his attention on whatever path he'd chosen. "This way," my friend declared, his pace become more brisk as we headed forward.
And so began our trek.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
five months later
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Think they're fresh enough?" I asked Kasey, both of us continuing to scrutinize a specific bunch of bananas hidden amongst many others in the food market.
My best and only friend didn't respond immediately, but he did at one point. "Good enough," he reckoned after another minute, and snatched the chartreuse fruits. He slipped them inside the grocery bag, already partially filled with other edible and various needs for the next month or so (which wasn't really much). His hand shook the plastic a little bit, testing the weight. "Think we've got enough?" Kasey asked me in return, looking up to meet my gaze.
"I would think, judging that's less than what we got last time, and we still have left overs," I spoke my word. I added in a nod as if that would help reassure the fact. "Let's go ahead and head out."
So with that the two of us walked right out of the two doors. Neither of us even bothered to pay the cashiers a spare glance; security was terrible at the food markets where we were running through. Still, just to be sure, both of us instantly began sprinting for the tall grasses where we were keeping ourselves safe and in hiding for the time being. It was really tempting to start giggling like a little child as the plants tickled against my legs, slightly exposed from my torn up gym shorts. But I knew better. Plus the fact any extra sound could get oneself killed was some extra motivation not to do anything.
"Hey Crys," Kasey said, throwing the bag on top of our remaining supplies. His tone suggested he had something serious to say, and I prepared myself for the worst as I looked up at him. (I never did realize how significantly taller he was compared to myself.) "You don't think... Maybe we should head back?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looks like I've got to wait and continue later.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
- Posts : 5161
Join date : 2009-07-07
Age : 26
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