*♪* Cyn's Freewrites *♫*

I'll be keeping an eye on this. Can't wait to see what you write!

I'm with Ave. :3

Cyn. o.0 Woah. That has to be one of the most amazing freewrites I've ever read.

O_O

That is amazing, Cyn! I loved it, and it's far better than you think it was.

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.

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.

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.

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]>>••••

Aww, poor Brianna. D:

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.

Awww, Cyn! That was amazing!

Thanks for using my prompt. Cyn! (: It's really good.