Short Stories

[LookingForward33]

I was running, I didn't know exacty what i was running from, all i knew was that it was fast and not human. I try to run faster and faster, but everytime i do it catches up with me like the winds guiding my path. I look back to see if it was any closer...But to my surprsie it was gone. I stoped running, and sat down behind a tree, in case it came back or was watching me. My phone rings and i see Lydia's caller ID," Hi." When i answered it sounded like she was crying." Katara, I need your help!" she was terrified. I took a deep breathe, "Where are you? Are you hurt?" she was cring very deeply." Im in Nightshade Woods, and Mason's hurt! I think He's dying!"

 

                             

 

                                       To Be Continued..

[LookingForward33]

I loved him..He was like my heartbeat and life all in one. He made my heart pump fast and slow, so loud i thought he'd hear it. I never had a bigger fear and faith. My biggest fear is being without him and my biggest faith is never losing him. His name was Mason. He was 16 years old and very mesmerizing. He had black hair, Bright,deep blue eyes, and a smile worth living for,But...the bad thing about him was that he was a werewolve..and im a vampire. Your probably thinking,So he's a werewolve and your a vampire, so what?.. well, a long time ago our ancestors were at war. They accused my family of being " cold ones" and that we were killing all the people in they're village. The first thing was true,we admitted to that, But we would never kill a human being. We only hunted animals, such as Bobcats,Bears and Deer. They didn't believe us so the started a war..lots of love ones were love in the bloody war...ever since there's been a stone strong tension. I wanted to try to end the feud, but the would kill me just because i had the idea... but. me and mason are in love and we will fight to be together, or....die.

 

 

                                                          To Be Continued.....

[LookingForward33]

I know I broke you,like a string on my guitar,

But you still with me no matter where you are,

Your still a little burned with my fired up flames,

I have to tell you now, i'm very much ashamed,

 

But I love you so, this is jsut me discised as me,

Don't hate only what you see,

I have a heart, i want to give to you,

Because im stuck on you like a tattoo,

 

Now just like the start,

let me play you the melody of my heart.

[LookingForward33]

My story is about Point Of Views, I there's any suggestions or comments don't hestitaeto do so! Enjoy!

 

Lydia's POV:

I was walking and a see a really hot guy playing the guitar, Black wavy Medium length hair, Bright blue/green eyes, and a smile that's as beautiful as the rest of him was. As i walked passed he looked at me and smile. He kind if looked like Andrew Biersack and Kellin Quinn. He was singing "King of Amarillo" By Issues. I smiled and he smiled back. I walked away and he was still staring when i turned around. I was pretty fancied by him.

 

Jonah's POV:

 

I was playing my guitar when a beauitful girl walked by. She had Long Red hair, Brown eyes, and a perfect smile. She walked passes and i smile, i mean she was cute, would'nt you if you were me? So, i sang " King of amarillo" by Issues. I could tell we had the same taste in music by her smile. I smile at her. she walked away but i was to intrested to stare away.

[Hanako 花子]

He died in that accident.  He took the hit, the blunt force of a man so intoxicated that he couldn't even handle the car properly as he sped down the highway.  The driver of the other car died too, coincidentally to the fulfillment of that old saying "an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth."  I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, even up to this day.  The pain was too much to bear.  Every day, before I leave my apartment to a day filled with false happiness on my behalf, I would always look up and ask the heavens for a reason for his demise.  I never got one.

 

He was the only one who understood me.

 

He was the only one who knew me inside out.

 

He was the only one who I could count on.

 

He was the only one…  The one I love.

 

He’ll never come back.  He can never come back.

 

Ever since the day he left, I knew what it was like to be truly alone.  Sure, I did interact with people, but there were those things in your head that you know would be crazy to tell any other person.  With him, I never had to hold myself back.  I can always tell him everything and he won’t judge.  He’ll even ride along the insanity train with me, laughing with me, holding me until sleep overtakes the both of us or our schedules pull us apart once more.  It was because of him that I felt so light, so alive.  I reveled in the feeling of having someone so perfectly made for me.  He was the peanut butter to my jelly, as you may say.  He made me feel complete in every way.

 

I just have to get used to holding my thoughts in again, as I had to before I met him.

 

Almost a year flew by before his death, and I’ve been trying to keep myself busy.  My body feels detached from my soul and all I can feel is the way it moves so mechanically, looping the knots for the bracelet I’m about to give him for his first death anniversary.  I hold back the tears.  I’m too tired.  I fall asleep on my desk, bracelet still undone, all my inner strength for the year spent.

 

The next morning, I wake up to find a random man sleeping in my bed.  I let out a scream and throw my table lamp at his head as he sat up.  As planned, the lamp knocked him unconscious, giving me an opportunity to inspect him and who he was.  However, I didn’t expect that my knowledge on this man would scare me more than the prospect of finding him on my bed.

 

It was him. It was my love, fully alive and… real.  No scratches, no broken bones.  He looked healthy.  He stirred from his state.

 

Sadly, I was too shocked and I punched him in the face.

 

Oops.

 

“What was that for?!”  He cried out, getting me out of my trance.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?!”

 

“Touche.  Yes, I am, and sorry about that, I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“… HOW CAN YOU NOT SCARE ME?!  YOU’RE THERE, ON MY BED WHEN YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SIX FEET BE—“

 

That did it.  He hugged me and held me for the longest time as I crumpled down to my knees and cried into his chest for the longest time.  The waterworks flowed so freely, I can feel myself draining from all of the emotions running through my head.  Sadness, anger, shock, and, the most overwhelming of them all, joy came to me all at once like a bullet train.  It was too much.

 

I never went to work that day.  Never even called in to say I was sick.

 

I never even went to the death anniversary.

 

I disconnected all of my communication from everyone else.  No cell phone, internet or even the telephone.

 

I wanted to spend all the time that I could with him.

 

We did all the things that we wanted to do in the house, per his request as he didn’t want to be seen.  We played all the board games, watched episodes of all the animes, movies and shows that we loved, cooked delicious food for each other, even skated around the smooth floors of my apartment in socks.  We just did everything we could think of to do indoors in a day, and, when evening came and dinner was made and eaten on my bed, I continued making the bracelet that I wanted to give him as he talked about how it was like on the other side.

 

“…It really is like here, basically, except brighter and lovelier.  No pain, no suffering.  It’s the type of peace that we all have envisioned in our lifetimes come true…

You’re just the missing piece though for my world, Amelie.”

 

“Oh, stop it!”  I stuck out my tongue at him before letting a comfortable silence fall over us as I continued knotting.

 

“How did you get here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, how you were able to become… alive again.  You know, all this?”

 

“Well, I did make a pact with an angel.”  There he goes, with that cheeky grin on his face.

 

“Carlos… What did you do?”

 

He lowered his voice into a hushed whisper.  “Well, I secretly agreed to give him my lemon tarts everyday during supper for a day with you on earth.”

 

“Wait… How is it a bad thing?”

 

“Well, angels are supposed to go on specific diets, you see.  They’re not allowed more than one sweet per meal, whereas the other souls can eat all we want.  He just

loves lemon tarts so much.

 

I just pray he won’t get caught by gaining weight.” He added with a chuckle.  I admit, I laughed with him too.  The idea was just funny to me.  His face turned dark after the laughter stopped though.

 

“I have to go back when the sun rises the next day though…”

 

He leaned on me, head resting on my shoulder.  He watched as my hands just continued, making more and more knots.  I was starting to slow down, my vision getting blurry as I tried to hold back tears again.

 

“You know, Amelie, I wish… I wish that we had more time.  We had so many dreams, especially for each other.  It wasn’t even like we were going to go the reckless route by getting married right off the bat in a shady chapel with an Elvis pastor in Las Vegas.  We had plans, Mellie, real plans to support each other and go for our careers.  To do what we want.  Together.  Before we even settle down…”  His voice was cracking, and tears were flowing.  This time, it was flowing from his face.

 

“Why can’t I just kill myself?  Can’t I just do that to cross over?”  I was voicing out the same way he was, cracked voice and teardrops falling.

 

“You can’t… They won’t let you make it to where I am that way, and I… I’ll lose you forever…”

 

We just held each other in silence, a sob coming out for a time or two from either one of us.

 

“Carlos, you don’t know how much I have missed you.”

 

“Mellie, you don’t know half of my loneliness.”

 

“Give me your wrist.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just… Give it.”

 

“Okay… Here.”

 

I wrapped the bracelet around his offered wrist.  I tied the knot tightly so that the bracelet wouldn’t come off.  All my hard work, put into that diagonally striped pattern.  All for him.

 

“Candy blue and peach.  You know it’s my favorite color combo.”  He chuckled, admiring my work.  From there, I felt myself starting to stir and yawn.

 

As we lay in bed, I felt my eyelids drooping.  He reached out his hand and stroked my hair.

 

“Sleep, my love.”

 

“But, you’ll be gone when I… wake…”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wake you before I go.”

 

Sleep was about to over take me.

 

“Promise?”

 

“…Always.”

 

I closed my eyes and drifted off into slumber.

 

When I woke, I looked out the window to find that it was still dark out, yet I couldn’t find him.  I was beginning to panic before he popped in the room, towel wrapped around his waist.  He was surprised to see me up, apparently.

 

“This is unexpected.”

 

“At least I’m up, you cheeky bastard.”  I said to him, stretching, as he put his clothes on.

 

He offers his hand out to me after dressing, looking deep into in my eyes.

 

“Lets go, love.”

 

I took his hand and went with him to the living room.  We turned the couch so that it would face the balcony, allowing us a view of the horizon.  I felt this painful feeling in my chest as we sat down, his arm around my shoulder.

 

“Amelie, promise me something?”

 

“Hm?”

 

He then pulled me to face him.

 

“Promise me that you will live life to the fullest.  I know that I will not be there beside you as we planned, but, please try.  There is so much that life has to offer.  Do all that you can, sing, write, dance, bungee-jump, I don’t care as long as you are happy.  Do this, if not for yourself, then for me, Amelie.  I beg of you.  We will have our time soon.  Promise?”

 

For you, Carlos.

 

“Promise.”

 

I will try.

 

“The sun’s rising.”

 

I turned to see that it was, and I stood up, shocked to see that he was fading away.

 

“C-Carlos!”

 

“I know.”

 

He stood as well, and, for the longest time, we kissed and we poured everything into that kiss.  Even when our lips parted and we just remained there hugging, I kept my eyes closed.  I didn’t want to watch him slip away.

 

“Will you come back?”

 

“Next year, I promise.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Always.”

 

He gave me one last squeeze.

 

When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

 

For the first time in a year, I was truly happy, grateful for the time spent with him.

 

It really was a blessing.

 

If there was one thing that made Carlos the most trustworthy person you could ever meet, it was the devotion he had to his promises.  The promise he made before he left?  He kept it.  Every year, he would come and be with me for a day, no matter where I am.  I kept my promise to him too.  After all, it was how I paid him back for keeping his promises to me.  I quit my job as a secretary a week after his first visit, and I decided to wing it and try to land a job singing at a hotel abroad.  Luckily enough, I did land it.  If that wasn’t even enough, I was able to even strike a business deal with my friends as my partners for a food franchise in my home country.  It was a huge success, even if I had to manage the people from far away.  Modern technology, after all, can make anything possible.  I had all the adventures I could as I was transferred to different branches of the hotel worldwide.  Europe, America, Australia… I went to all the places I could and did what I wanted and more.

 

I did all I could so I would have stories to tell for Carlos, who is changing his form to match my age, during his visits.

 

He would always listen, and he would share adventures of his own.

 

And I would be fulfilled and ready for another year, content and overjoyed with the love we have for each other.

 

Fifty five years have passed since he died, and I was getting old.  There were already some wrinkles around my face, but I knew they were indicators of my wisdom.  Carlos was with me, laying in bed next to me with wrinkles of his own too.  He was still handsome in my eyes though.  Still has that mischievous glint in his eye even in the evening light.

 

“Amelie, this will be my last visit, you know.”

 

“Huh?  You won’t visit anymore?  Why?”

 

“I can’t tell you.  It’s a secret.”

 

“Hmph, I guess you don’t find me beautiful anymore.”  With that remark, I made a face, making us both laugh at the same time.

 

“You know I always find you beautiful, Mellie.  I still come back for you, you know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m getting tired, love.  Mind if I hit the hay?”  Yawning, I place the covers over us.

 

“I don’t mind.” He said with that smile that would always get me to fall for him even more.

 

“Wake me up, as always?”

 

“Promise.”

 

My eyes closed and I let out a soft sigh, content with the world.

 

The moment I woke up, I realized that I was in a bed softer than my own.  Everything seemed to have its own special glow around it.  What surprised me even more was that the place looked like my old apartment, but much cleaner and better looking than it was when I lived there.  The thing that really got me though, wasn’t the place I was in.

 

It was Carlos, who was his 19 year old self.  The very age he was when he died.

 

He stirred and looked at me lovingly, with that smile.

 

“Morning, Amelie.”

 

“C-Carlos?  W-Where am I?”

 

“Touch your face.”

 

“What?”

 

“Touch your face.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

I obeyed.

 

My wrinkles were gone.

 

“Now, touch your back.”

 

I was hesitant, but I did it anyway.  What I found out was a right on shocker.

 

I have wings. Even Carlos has wings.

 

He pulled me down so that I was on top of him and he stroked my hair, just like he did when he first visited.

 

“Also, for the first question you asked me?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You’re home now, with me.”

 

“Carlos, you have it all wrong.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We’re home now.”

[XxPocketSizedEmoVampirexX]

Untitled. Idk what to call it yet lol...(the writing in the italics is in one of the girls point of view and the normal is in the other girls point of view...just to let you guys know lol)

 

 

My feet created an echo throughout the art gallery as my heels came into contact with the tiles. I tried so hard to make small gentle steps but no matter how hard I tried, the noise still echoed loudly throughout each room. I cringed every time I took a nervous step into the strange world of art.

 

 

Art was a mystery. No one would ever know what went through the minds of these magnificent artists, never to truly know the story and meaning behind what they created. That is why so many people are intrigued with the historical art because no one truly knows of its meaning. People wonder around soaking up all the amazing artistic abilities to try and understand the artists’ art. But since we are not from their era, we will never truly know or understand them. Art will always be kept as a mystery.

 

The stone pillars towered over the chaotic crowd, supporting up the intricate archways that held up the high ceiling, stopping it from crushing the innocent people below. Looking up at the stone archway ceiling was somewhat disorientating since it was so incredibly high up. It felt as if I would never be able to float up and reach the delicate carved patterns no matter how long or how high I soared. Being in this place was also very claustrophobic since there were people everywhere I faced, shoulder to shoulder, mingling in negative and positive conversations. Not one person wasn’t talking so there was a loud low murmur that followed everyone behind in close steps, floating amongst the crowd anonymously.

 

The smell of rustic black smoke hung around in the air sending the British people’s eyes to a delicate cry, and the bellowing sound of the trains welcoming the citizens echoed throughout the station with a sudden presence urging the people to aboard their awaiting transport. People scrambled up into groups, heaving their heavy briefcases full of their belongings onto the loading sight and holding their lighter possessions that were to be taken aboard the train.

 

I stood there amongst the boarding passengers waiting for my transport to arrive. Families of young gentlemen, exquisite females in their embroidery gowns, their impatient children whining and moaning about how the station was so crowded and that their feet were up to an aching point; were pushing their way through the crowd fumbling with their luggage. I moved back, letting the families go past. I kept a tight uneasy grip on my brown leather briefcase with slippery gloves hoping that no one would knock the case out of my small hands.

 

My petticoat, gown pleats and floral lace ruffled as people walked past brushing up against my dress sending chills up my spine because of the anxiously closeness of the people. I never felt at ease in a crowd, nor did I ever feel comfortable around people. It will surely be over soon. Quickly I hoped. I told myself not to panic since it would make the situation even more of a difficult one due to the busily crowd that surrounded me. I definitely did not want this situation to worsen.

 

I hastily moved through the boisterous crowd that made me highly uncomfortable. I saw a broken area in the crowd and proceeded to stand in that very area to calm my heightened heart. I heard the faint clattering noise of my original genuine heels as my feet quickly slithered along the cold stone floor. I felt a sudden sigh of relief as I was now in the broken area of the crowd. I now have my own space with no one shoulder to shoulder to me. This was why I hardly ever adventured out into the open from my home, the crowds in the English alleyways and streets under the dim lighted street lamps leave an uneasy feeling in the breast and stomach. I do not know why I get these anxious feelings deep down inside the breast and stomach.

 

It has always been present there my whole life. I was always a very nervous and paranoid child, always being the one that hides behind the other children so I wasn’t the centre of attention, the one that was too scared to interact with others or let alone keep a conversation going without turning into an awkward traumatized mess.

 

My heart was at a normal pace, thanks to the nearly empty art gallery. I was never good with crowds. I wondered around, looking carefully at each painting wondering what the artist of that time was thinking while in the process of creating their art work. Were they stressful? Or upset? Were they in a difficult situation? Did their emotions ever reflect within their art works? I would occasionally stand almost nose to nose with the paintings and stare at its contents trying to figure out its mysteries and puzzles.

 

As I stood on my toes looking over the heads of the many people in the chaotic station, I noticed something in the far distance. It caught my eye because the golden frame caught the sun and shone out in crystals. It was at the far end of the station which was nearly deserted. I quickly made my way over to the object in swift motions with my yellow gown flowing behind me. It was quite strenuous moving around in such an elegant gown with a corset underneath, but of course, it is what we are expected to wear so we will be respected by others in this society, especially if you are a female and of a lower class.

 

A lovely painting caught my eye that was on the other side of the gallery room. It was a long panel painting of an exquisite train station created in the 1800s. I walked up to it and looked at the plaque.

 

 

William Powell:

 

“Railway Station.” 1862, oil on canvas.

 

I stood there and stared at the painting. It was beautiful. The station had carved pillars that stretched up into the sky holding up detailed archways that created the ceiling. The train station was crowded up with heaps of stunning British people of that time, wearing gowns, corsets, bows and suits. Even the frame that, which the painting was held in, preserved inside an air tight glass case was stunning. There were intricate golden carvings of floral pieces all around the frame boarder.

 

I finally came to the presence of the object. A golden framed painting. I swiftly looked around to see if anyone else might have taken notice of this strange isolated artwork. It was very peculiar. I looked at what the golden frame held, and to my astonishment, it was of a young women with brown curly hair that fell elegantly to her shoulders. Her eyes were as green as emeralds, and she wore strange clothing; very simple clothing. But what took my attention away from anything else was that, the women looked a lot like me.

 

Something then took my utmost attention, was of a single female in the painting. I stood nose to nose with the painting and observed the girl. Her hair was brown and curly that fell to her shoulders, she had bright green eyes and wore a beautiful yellow corseted gown. I took a step back in shock of what I just saw. The woman looked exactly like me. From her simple facial features of her small pale pink lips, to her long eye lashes and cheek dimples; from her unique personalized smirk that her face was covered in and her blushed cheeks.

 

 

My unique smirk and rosy cheeks.

 

My briefcase slipped out of my hands as I took a couple of wobbly steps back. That women was a replica of me, standing in a room full of paintings wearing strange simple clothes that looked too revealing compared to what I had to wear. Who was this female? Are we related? Do I have an unknown twin? I carefully placed my gloved fingers on the painting, just on the woman’s cheeks. I automatically felt warm sensation tingle up through my fingers.

 

I looked around quickly to see if there was anyone else in the same room. I gave my full attention to the painting and I noticed that the woman had grown bigger.

I gave a small gasp as my fingertips melted into the painting. I felt a cold numbness as my fingers, then my palm and then as my whole hand disappeared into the painting.

 

 I saw the woman’s hand move closer to me as if she was reaching out for a helping hand. Her expression was full of shock and confusion.

 

How was this happening? My arm was slowly morphing into the painting and disappearing on the other side. How could this happen?

 

Her hand grew bigger and bigger until an object started to form. I put my hand up against the glass and I could feel the warmth coming from her hand. I then suddenly felt something soft and her hand took hold of mine.

 

I gasped as I felt contact on the other side.

 

I took hold of her identical gloved hand and gently pulled her towards me. Inch by inch I saw more of her emerging from the painting. Inch by inch I saw myself in her.

 

I felt cold and violated as more and more of my body disappeared through the painting.

 

I pulled her through and caught her other hand, gently guiding her to her feet. Our eyes met and it felt as if I was looking straight into a mirror.

 

I was through and I took a gasping breath. I saw her. I felt her warm flesh and I saw myself looking back at me. I shivered as I was exposed to this new unknown air. I felt short of breath and weak.

 

Her face suddenly turned a sick pale colour and she started to tremble in my hands. As her feet touched the floor, she stood at the exact height as me and didn’t take her eyes away from mine.

 

My lungs felt tight and I couldn’t move properly. I licked my dry lips and I tasted a strange flavour. I put my finger to my lips and a pale pink came off onto my finger tip. I looked back at myself and I saw her looking at her hands. White liquid was on her hands and I looked down to see that I was leaving a wet yellow trail from my dress.

 

My hands were wet and were covered in, what I thought was paint. I looked at her and I saw faint cracks in her complexion. Her lips were cracking and her hands were trembling and crumbling. 

 

 

My hands were shaking and I could see cracks all over my hands and arms. My skin started to peel and fall to the floor. I felt tight and couldn’t move. I coughed suddenly and dust came out of my mouth, as well as more crumbling particles.

 

She looked as if she was falling apart.

 

My chest felt heavy and I felt light headed. I stumbled and caught the wall with my hand leaving a wet trail and my hand crumbling off leaving only my wrist. My dress broke and fell into tiny pieces, along with my petticoat and corset. I felt highly dehydrated and I looked up at myself once more.

 

“Why?”

 

I felt all my bones shatter and I fell to the floor.

 

I stood there in shock, looking down at a pile of dust and 150 year old paint.

[BleedingDeath]

As Life Drains Away

Day 1

day n day i sit now wonder is it now that hurtful thunder between ones heart i bleed n shatter.i sit n wonder with pen in hand is it blood droping to the ground yet i pick again til the razor bleeds me fine i truely deserve what i did to one yet why does muh heart still beat drums for once i did have a love that shared us thou the thick n fin but yet again i failed once more as blood keeps driping muh eyes get sore tears thou flow down muh cheek is this what happens when love disappears as razor slips thou another vain break blood pouring till rain n thunder shakes what i did was wrong that i know so i sit here wondering a heart woe depression kicks more as the blood pours ones final words i could swore she was muh life muh love muh heart but now i lay down to depart muh last ords i swear to theee i shall never stop loving thee as final tear drops from muh cheek now i rest sound asleep.

Day 2
As she sits up in her talking to her friends online she hears her perants call for her as she walks down the hall and down the stairs she see 2 police men with her perants in her mothers hand is a bloodstained envolope as her mother hands her the envolope she opens it and starts reading as she reads her expersions start to change as she drops to her knees l;etter falling to the floor tears start to run down her face as she starts crying as the mother and officers look down they see the opened letter.......dear my love i am sorry for all the hurt and pain i have caused you evry thing iv done has hurt some body so its best if i do not return  tell my daughter i am sorry i could not be around for heryou have bin the world to me my angel of light my love maybe this way instead of hurting you i can prove to you how much you mean to me the world has many ways to express how it feels but my only words to you is i will always love you now til eternity as continue to write this letter to you the tiredness and sleepyness i feel taking over me love is a battlefield but i know i have won your heart as you have won mine forever love fairwell my one true love........as her mother comforts her her angry throws out why why i never meant for this to happen we were supposed to be couple togather we could of figured some thing out she shouts as more tears run down from her teary eyes as the doors shut and the mother and police officers disappear she runs up to her room and locks her door.7 hours later.......she sits at the table and starts typing my love i where are you i need you my world has fallen apart every time i think it is of you every time i dream it is of you i miss you soo much  but soon my love i will join you as we promised in our pact soo i will be able to see and touch and talk to you again my love.....dear family and friends i am very sorry and i do apologies for what i am about to do but this world is not worth living for with my soul mate im sorry mother and father she says as she puts the last of pills in her month and drinks them down with water. she falls back as a tear falls from her eye we shall be togather again my love never shall we part again.

[Dark Marauder]

 

I wrote the story and this guy read it. 

[sammyoranges]

this is a poem:

i dont know

i dont know how 

i look and see 

things i wish to be

i dont know 

i dont know how to be 

        me

[sammyoranges]

this poem is also on wattpad

 

(dont worry i made it up) 

[XxPocketSizedEmoVampirexX]

Those Dark Nights (a recount I wrote for school urgh)

It was one of those nights when every tiny little thing got to me mentally. It was one of those nights when everyone else in the house was asleep and I was the only one lying down in bed staring at the ceiling with blurry eyes. It was these nights that I would feel completely hopeless, completely useless, completely alone that I would bury myself under my covers muffling my cries and whimpers. At these times I would feel like a weakling, a loser, and a weirdo that I would be lying here sobbing over things that I shouldn’t be crying over, but I guess all these miserable emotions had to burst out eventually from caging them inside like a trapped bird.

I looked up at the ceiling wondering why tears were streaming down my face. My life wasn’t hard, my life wasn’t full of negative experiences, but yet I was crying with the blankets over my face creating tear stains. Why do I do this to myself? I’m just torturing my own mind with these negative thoughts, these stupid worries, and this dim-witted paranoia over subjects that probably don’t exist. Was I the only one crying at night? Was I the only one worrying and freaking out over my future, my body, my face; my life? 

I would occasionally turn onto my side and cocoon myself in the blankets with my head trapped underneath, engulfing me in the darkness that I was cloaked in mentally. I knew I shouldn’t let these things get to me, but it’s just hard for us teenagers of this generation. Technology has evolved which means more false images, more false portrayals and just more lies. More bullying, more of us are being exposed to the images of the media and more of us hate ourselves at a younger age. This world is becoming more and more fake by the minute and putting pressure on us second by second.

My cheeks were becoming dry and cracked from the previous waterfall of tears; my chest was heaving making my dormant asthma jitter back to life as if I was struck by lightning, becoming the new Frankenstein. The sobbing was affecting my breathing and I had to keep gasping for breath, but I still muffled the noises with my hands and blanket. I didn’t want anyone to hear me since I really did not want to explain the pathetic reason why I was panicking and upset. 

Multiple images floated through my head like an old fashioned video tape showing blurry pictures that the media constantly showed throughout the many days. Pictures of people I would love to be, and who I would happily look like. These pictures were of movie stars and advertisements of perfume and clothing, all of which were women. When I see these images, I think to myself ‘Why don’t I look like that? Why do I have to look like this?’ The media says that you have to look like this in order to be beautiful. You have to be thin. You have to be tall. You have to have long flowing hair. You have to have a perfect complexion. In other words, you have to be flawless. All of this I do not have, which means I am not beautiful according to the media.

I know I shouldn’t care what other people think and that I should be myself, which I do. But it’s hard to feel comfortable in my own skin when I’m constantly seeing these images of perfect women with the perfect hair, the perfect face and the perfect body that can wear anything. Seeing all these images makes me feel self-conscious about how I look… and just overall me.

Every day I look in the mirror and I see my own reflection. I see how my face looks, I see how my body is built, I see all the lumps and bumps, and the curves; the creases, all the flaws that I hate, and I say to myself ‘I’m not built like them. I don’t look like them. I’m a walking flaw.’ I get the thoughts of how people always stare at me. I dress differently to everyone, I express myself in a different way and I don’t follow the media. All these people could be having negative thoughts about me, which scares me. I get paranoid that all those people are judging me silently by just how I look. If you don’t follow the media and look like everyone else, you will be judged and looked down upon by everyone.

I’m always thinking about these things when I lie here at night in the darkness of my room. I worry about how I look, how people judge me and how I think about myself. I hate myself. I hate the way I look; I hate the way I’m built.

I just hate it.

I want to express myself in my own way, but not be judged by others. I know most of the images are photo manipulated, most of us do; but that doesn’t mean we will stop believing it. None of us will stop believing it. I know there are many other girls and boys out there in the same situation of extreme hate, but it doesn’t help that a lot of us are pointed out because we’re different. I need to learn that what the media portrays isn’t the definition of beauty, I need to tell myself that I’m perfect the way I am otherwise these nights are going to occur over and over again.

The feeling of being trapped is horrible. The feeling of worry, hate and paranoia is mentally draining. Being engulfed in darkness and trapped in a cage is horrifying. I need to tell myself that I am a definition beauty, just in a different way; otherwise I will never be happy in the future and I will always have these tear filled nights. I need to at least try to be happy.

[thatemochick1022]

i wrote this story for my english class

tell me if u guys like it this is my first piece on here

 

 

Hi my name is Taz and I hate high school. Ok wait let me start from the beginning. My real name is Fay, but I have hated that name for as long as I can remember so I took the liberty of renaming myself. I’m that teen you see during lunch sitting away from everyone else underneath a tree drawing my life story. Also I am the only teen with a good taste for music, which consist of classic rock, heavy metal scream, and indie. It’s hard not to notice me because I am the teen that everyone stares at with their judge-mental eyes as they think to themselves.

“She is such a freak.” What you don’t know is that everything is about to change for me or at least that’s what you think. The very next day the sky was grey and it was lightly raining outside, my favorite kind of weather I wore my favorite outfit which was made up of what were once to tight acid wash skinny jeans that had now been worn so many time the knees hade holes in them, my favorite band tee shirt, black eyeliner, my emo like hair with the multi color extensions, my over worn Doc Martens, and spikes all over. After eating a bland breakfast my mom drove me to school and let me out right at the tree I always sit in, kissed me on the forehead and told me that she loved me. As I sat underneath the wet tree drawing minding my own business, out of the corner of my eye pulls in a car I have never seen before. As the car door opens out walks what looks like the boy I had seen in my dreams. My heart stops in its place.

“He is perfect.” I think to myself. I watch him walk towards the building in his black and white pinstriped suit with a white undershirt a old faded pink tie, his long shaggy hair, and his over worn doc martens. As a light gust of wind past by I could see his flawless face. His hypnotizing hazel eyes, perfect sized nose, soft lips, and his unique flushed pale skin tone, all I could think to myself is that we were meant for each other. I frantically gather my belongings and dashed to catch up with him. I finally caught up with him and now out of breath I say in a weak raspy voice,

“Hi my name is Taz. What is yours?” he stops in his tracks and looks over at me clearly seeing that I was out of breath, he chuckles underneath his breath and replies,

“my name is Jamie. Jamie Valentine, I am a new student here.” I ended up showing him the main office where he picked up his schedule only to realize that we had a couple classes together which made me totally happy and want to jump up an down but I did not want to embarrass my self in front of Jamie. I walked Jamie to his homeroom and then we had parted our separate ways. From that point on all I could think about was Jamie. During lunch we met up underneath the tree we talked as if we had known each other for a lifetime. About halfway through lunch he looked over to my side and discovered my notebook. He grabbed it right out from under me and started flipping through the pages. It was like watching my life flash right before my eyes, then he stopped staring at the picture I had drawn of him when I first laid eyes on him and the light gust of wind had moved his hair out of the way letting me see his face. He stared at the picture then at me and I could see in his eyes that I had found something that was missing for so long. “May I show you something?” he asked me. I could hear his voice choking up as if he was going to cry but he was holding it in just so he could save his pride. “Of course anything.” I replied, I knew that what I was about to see was something he did not share with anyone. He started to roll up his sleeves slowly but painfully revealing old scars all over his arms, some only had been cut once others more time than I could count. I ran my hands over them feeling his pain and awful memories trapped inside them. At that moment all I had wanted to do was take away the pain and suffering for Jamie. He sheds a tear and so do I as I roll up my sleeves showing him my scars. We grab each others hands letting us know that we will beat this and finally letting us have our happy ending. Months passed by and I had never been happier in my entire life. Jamie and I grew closer with every waking second of being with each other and without. We would walk through the hallways letting people stare at us not caring about what they thought anymore and if anyone tried to mess with me Jamie would take care of them. We had created so many memories together like going to Coney Island and seeing the freak show together, drawing tattoos on each other, not having a care in the world. Jamie was my night and shining armor. Time had passed by so quickly and it was already spring, the cherry blossoms on our tree had finally bloomed and freshman prom was only a couple days away. Of course Jamie had asked me and I said yes, how could I not? I had the perfect dress, which was a long strapless ball gown that was almost all white except for the very bottom was a faded black with painted roses on it. I wore my long hair down straight, with my favorite spike necklace. When Jamie came to pick me up he wore a nice black and white tux with a rose in his pocket and brought me a rose corsage and we both wore our doc martens. That night at the dance was truly the happiest night of my life and there was no one else I had rather been spending it with then Jamie. The next day was the start of the weekend, Jamie and I were going to go to the park and have a picnic. So I put on the outfit I had first met him in, I thought it was a cute idea. My mom drove me over to Jamie’s house and I knocked on the front door. His mom answered letting me come in, she said that had tried calling him downstairs but he wouldn’t respond. She let me go upstairs to try and get him. I knocked but he didn’t answer, I figured he had fallen back to sleep since he did that a lot so I went in to wake him up.

“NO!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I saw him lying there with a knife through his heart and his body color flushed away. He was still in his tux from last night and he had a note, a locket, and his phone lying on top of him I opened the note and all it said was I’m sorry. I grabbed for his phone next only to find that for months Jamie was still bullied by the same kids from his old school. Last I gently reached for the silver locket and opened it. Inside was a picture of us and on the other side it said my happy ever after. That very same day I went out and bought art supplies and locked my self in my room and painted on a bare wall I had, a mural of the picture in the locket with the same saying underneath it, I did this so that every time I look at that wall I can remember what it was like to finally have my happily ever after.

  

[something17]

So this is a short story. And now with each pounding I make on to these keys, it becomes longer and longer and longer. It's funny how things do that... well, things including people. They build themselves up, never expecting to be knocked down. They don't know what lies ahead and they've already forgotten their pasts... so even if they don't fall, what would they have to show for it? I guess you could call it blind faith. Utterly pointless and unreasonable and irresponsible... and yet... refreshing. Yes blind faith is refreshing, because it's the definition of random and spontaneous thinking and doing things just for the heck of it again. Really, it's on the brink of gambling. Not knowing what's next, and not really caring. Yes, the element of surprise is a hard one to understand, especially if your surprise is a gift you didn't want.

 

But like all gifts, you have to make the best of it. I mean, you can't just throw it away or give it to someone else... you'd feel bad because that's like throwing away someone's time and the effort they put into choosing what they chose to give you. And believe it or not, some people are scared to give others gifts, so throwing away that gift is like throwing away their courage too. No you have to keep it, use it. Take what you have or have been given, and make it what you want it to be. And of course if what you want is excellence...

 

Then you will be excellent.

 

So this was a short story, and I guess it really wasn't much than a few sentences strung together, but that's fine. I started this and I didn't know where it was going...

 

That was the fun part.

[Zetketsu Oblivionist]

Um Hi im sorta new so still learning my way around, this isnt much kf a short story but just a concept rough draft ig idk lol. So enjoy ig..

 

Music,.. an amazing creation by humans and animals alike which conveys emotions, records history, and even goes as deep as to reach our hearts and spark something in our minds and bodies no science can truely understand.Music makes us feel alive, lets us feel joy,happiness, excitement it helps us get through our daily lives. As their are positive results of these myriads of combinations, beats, and vocal coligraphy there are other effects we have all experienced through song. Anger, rage, despair, feeling of one ripping and tearing at our eardrums in a proccess of torture.. Music was originally created for enjoyment, rejoicing, singing of praise and vigorous happiness; is it possible to reverse engineer the very happiness of tune that makes one happy into a melody that brings malice and chaos. Of course children, there is an opposite to everything a negative and positive for everything that makes up our world, our galaxy and our universe. Issac newton proved this in his famous universal laws.. one in fact is, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This being said sets the stage for my lifes work, the " Melody Restructure in Quantum senses Anatomy" project or MRQSA would be the acronym for my reasearch. Musical melodies bring out an alternate side of our beings so much so as the music controls certain structural combinations and nerves in our brains synapses allowing a change, A metamorphosis in our whole personal make up. As in a shyer person may be wilder or more open when he or she hears a melody that sparks the metamorphic attributes in their brains. This proves that melody and frequency affect us in more than meets the eye... Infact musical melody is built into us.. are heart beat, our breathing patterns, and our very DNA glands if organized properly create a song.. the forbiden song long lost to our human society. The Melody of Lilith.. The song of ultimate Creation and Oblivion in our own genetics.. and I shall us it to awaken our race.. to insure our evolution and survival so we shall not be weak but the strongest in our world in existence.. We can do incredible, we can do the inpossible when song drives us!!!!! And I shall be the one to teach you all in my grand orchestra of Divinity..

- Dr. Elliaster Hoshioma, founder of Requiem Orchestra INC.

 

That was the recorded broadcast that echoed  the earths surface before what is now known as "The song of Jormungand the worlds serpent" The mad scientist Elliaster Hoshioma launched a full scale assualt on the human race through what he created named " thre frequency of liliths tears" Into earths statis orbitoral satalites reaching everything on the planets ears with his insane melody. What he acomplished in doing is bringing humanity to the highest state possible, he unlocked all of our brains a large percentage in some cases an addition of 76.3% we couldnt control our new found abilities, which the good doctor predicted and we ravaged the earth to the point of existence... that point I  humanities history was called the Melody of Retribution. . And we left everything a desolate wasteland. The only thing left standing was Elliaster's company surrounded by the world he dreamed of creating.. humans gained supernatural abilities, these abilities morphed our bodies and ripped us apart from the inside until we couldnt stand it anymore. The demons we feared most, we bacame. The melody of our hearts determined what we truely were inside and our appearance and mind form fitted to our hearts song unleashing hell on earth. Those who survived the Curse of Dark Melodies became leaders of the weak and the monsters left of us congergated I to packs to hunt the rest of humanity to exstinction. The only safe haven was death The only thing in between us and the Noro ati or cursed artists was MMA Melody Malice Arts who keep the rest ov humanity in check and opose Elliaster. This  is way bigger than anything, its no more fame or glory, its all about surviving through your hearts melody, is your melody of light or darkness, Rightousness or that of the Insane, will you say the you you are now, or will you turn into the very demons you fear and face Melody of Retribution for your final curtain call

[RoseBlood7777444]

This called memories its only the beginning of the chapter of my book.  

Memories

Oh how I love to sit back and wonder where time has gone for me

My memories are tinted with hate and bad blood

Oh how I wish I was small again but I can’t thats the  thing with memories they haunt you

Oh Oh how they haunt they can be good or bad

My memories are tinted and so is my heart and afraid of people who get too close to me  

Oh how I wish had freedom when I was young to play

Oh wish i did fight but I didn’t fight not all I was scared

Oh how I was scared for my life and didn’t know what to do any more

Oh know what have done to myself these I don’t know I guess I am just fighting again

My memories is tinted with a blackness and no happiness none that I can remember

My memories are gone from me

Zapped from me my memories

The only happiness I have is Abigail and I don’t get talk to her anymore that makes me so sad

Oh how I hate my father and my memories