The Writing Thread

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Joey Go!

I highly doubt anyone will read this
('cause lord knows I didn't read any of the other s**t posted here)
(nothing personal, I'm just lazy)

Ahem. I read everything in this thread...

Let's call that a blood orgy, not for squimish people.

I thought I recognised Poe near the begining, before the bloody stuff. That almost made me think it wasn't going to be a very horrible horror story, until I hit that part. I like your imagry, and the whole story had me hooked. Post more if you have more, I'd like to see what else you've written.  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

twilight365

You mistake my intention, perhaps. Twilight had not meant to call your thread horrible. As to Mr. Jimmy's suggestion, Twilight can never satisfy herself with a short story. It always lacks something else - a conflict, a new struggle, or perhaps a better ending. Long stories....they may never be finished, but there is so much potential, so much hope. In English class, when she had attempted a short story, it ended up as a poem instead. Perhaps Twilight should post one.

I could have swore you wrote the world horrible... although now that I go back I see it is humble. Sorry.  

[yodilit]

I need to get back on writing...

when I finish something worthy, I'll post it here. :)  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Yodilit

I need to get back on writing...

when I finish something worthy, I'll post it here. :)

Worthyness is not a prerequisit! Post anything you like!  

[Prihe]

Quote:

and we are lost in the moment
and your eyes were the color of too many broken bottles
and I looked into your eyes
and your lips left mine
and your lips are the flavor of toothpaste and cola
and then you kissed me
and then it was a black and white romance
and we were under the street light
and we walked out of the bar
and I was in the middle of my affair with some attractive poison
and I was wretched and depressed
and then I slurred a fumbled hey
and then you said hi
and someone broke an emerald green bottle
and we were lost in the moment

I had some fun the other day. This is actually less whimsical backwards.

Urm, then there's this... which is the start of a story I was going to write.

Quote:

Waltzing



1

His hair was combed back impeccably, as per usual, his spirited gray eyes flickering with mirth as he chatted at the punch bowl. As far as high society is concerned, he's the fine china on the mantle, the light bouncing off the almost white hair seems to illustrate the fact. His easy elegance that seemed to drape about him like satin, laced through his voice. But he was reserved for the woman standing in the shadows. Her face twisted a little as he smiled, as if he displeased her. Envious, stormy eyes narrowed cooly as she clicked over to him, her black heels cracking on the marble like ice. Her off white hair was spun elegantly into a knot, held in place by a fine sliver clip. She delicately scraped a polished nail against his cheek, and he whipped towards her a bit startled, but quickly softened. She pursed her lips and then softly whipered in his ear:

"A dance, gentleman."

He smiled genuinely, and pulled her out as a traditional waltz started. They twirled slowly and glided smooth, a mix of black lace, spun gold hair, and a light perfume. She watched him absently as they danced, while he would smile down at her, and then search the dark and dimly lit room. She pressed her head to his neck.

"She's not here."

He looked at her sharply, questioning. What did she mean, not here? He looked around a bit more franctically, still composed, but with a sese of urgency in his eyes. Her lip twitched downward and she pulled his face to look at her's, eye to eye. She scraped her nail down his cheek as she did before, but this time drawing blood.

"She'll never be in our way again."

He felt a cold wash over him inside and his heart skip a beat. They had stopped flowing with the music and a bead of blood was trailing down her porcelain white finger. A few women in thicker dresses knocked into the pair, and she was still wearing that same indifferent expression. At this close proximity he could see the smudge on her face and the uneveness in her nails and somehow knew that the body of a woman he loved very much would be found out back in the gardens the next morning. Her face then changed as she saw the reality strike him, and her wine red lips began to twitch upward, victorious. He was her's now. Her finger nail had stopped at his chin, and she pulled him down, and wispered against his lips:

"Mine."

2

He was in the study, his fine, pearly hair in a loose ponytail wearing formal clothes, even though it was obviously just him and his aged brandy. He eyed the dark, swirling liquid that looked like it was on fire when it hit the light. Maybe it was. Another glass sat beside the bottle, a stain of dark red lipstick pressed in one spot, as if the owner could perfectly match up her lips with their imprint. He leaned on his wrist carefully setting the glass down on the table with that hollow clinking sound that only a full glass can make on wood.

I knew from the time that I was young what my father wanted of me. He was a rather good man, and had lovely taste in everything, and he wanted me to be just like him. My mother had always told me that I was a nice boy, and to get a nice girl for myself. She had beautiful, light hair that she always left in a plait, and she never wore lipstick. When I grew up a bit, I asked her why she didn't, and she gave me that calm, elegant smile, and told me that she didn't need it. That it made her feel real to not wear it. That women who had nothing to hide never needed makeup. I had wondered about the statemeant and the possible implications and deeper meanings, but never knew whether it was a superficial statement or something philosophical. I am pretty certain I stopped pursuing the thought shortly after hearing it. But it always stayed right there on the edge of my conscious. Every girl I ever met, I knew if she wore lipstick, and what color it was.

Was it a fixation?

Pause.

He diverted his eyes from their current resting spot to a corner of the room, settling on a vase of dried roses.

My mother always knew everything there was to know. My father was the most logical person I ever met, and very blatant. Terribly brilliant. One of the few men I've ever met that I couldn't remember doing anything regrettable. Mother was wise, even in adversity- the crippling of being trapped in a seamless world of wealth. They were somewhat opposed in appearance. Mother had a soft beauty that felt like sunshine, and stars, and the moon. My father was a tall with high cheek bones, and an arrogant nose. All of my father's side have had proud, aristocratic features. I looked more like my mother, proud, but with an air of calm. Some believe that my mother had an affair, and she always was beautiful enough to sway any man, but she loved my father. She had said that the marriage was arranged, but she loved him from the first time they had met and he bent to kiss her hand. Both sides of the family were wealthy. My father was a cunning business man. My mother was a clever as they came, and was able to persuade and maipulate almost any train of thought. She taught me everything I know about living.

I don't even remember when she died.

I wasn't there.

Father either.

I remember Mother warning me when I had met her. A beautiful woman with hair that reminded me of her own, but she always wore so much lipstuck. Dark ruby lipstick, it always seemed that if you pressed her lips against hers, you could drown in them. It was sticky, and her mouth was hot, and it always felt a little like blood, like biting your lip. Mother had looked at me, quietly when I told her that I had fallen for her. Correction. A man of my family doesn't fall. They push others down the stairs. That was what they told me at my father's funeral. My great uncle had looked at me like I had commited the homicide when he stated this to me, but I could feel the stoney eyes of my aunt from the other side of the casket... I wouldn't have pushed him. My mother had told me that she wears too much lipstick, and that the other girl, Greengrass, she seemed more honest. I loved that other girl, but my lovely ice queen had me spiraling, and I couldn't ever hurt for that other girl when she could could catch my heart in her hand and sink her perfect, painted nails into it and tear it up. My mother repeated the same line to me:

'She wears too much lipstick.'

She had something about herself that she had to hide.

I told my mother that her lipstick made her defined, and she looked away, out the window, and didn't speak to me again.

The Greengrass girl had an untimely death at an upperscale party I had attended with her. They never caught the culprit. But I knew who had blood on her hands that night. Or maybe it was just nail polish.

He looked back at the grandfather clock. There was a breaking of glass and he stood up calmly and left the room. A solid shard with the imprint of ruby red lipstick was left whole in the puddle of brandy that was disturbed every time another drop dripped down the wall.

3

'I do not see a reason to love anything as much as I love myself.'

She whispered quietly from her seat. It was a soft emerald green velvet couch built into the window, and she could see the forest that was a shapeless green blur against the fog and rain. Her voice sounded like an old radio, of scratching and gentle dust

I haven't seen it in awhile, and I had never finished it. I plan on doing so in the future though. Giuve me input and ideas, please.  

[Prihe]

I have decided that I am now officially Joey Go!'s fangirl until the end of time. Really. That was... amazing. *brain shatters* I can't think of any sufficient adjectives to describe how mindblowing that was for me.  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Leather and Libraries

I have decided that I am now officially Joey Go!'s fangirl until the end of time. Really. That was... amazing. *brain shatters* I can't think of any sufficient adjectives to describe how mindblowing that was for me.

I didn't want to say anything then, but yeah... I fapped. sweatdrop  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Leather and Libraries

I haven't seen it in awhile, and I had never finished it. I plan on doing so in the future though. Giuve me input and ideas, please.

I'll tell you, this story is definitly worth starting again. No questions about that. As far as where to take it... that's hard.

What genra would you place it in? the story isn't about the murder is is? I would think it would be about how whipped the protagonist is with his new chick. I would say pick up the story going through some situations with the protagonist and this sadistic woman. Mabye bring in a third leg, either a man or a woman will do, somthing to make the love situation more complicated by making somone compete. Just know that you could take this a million different ways.

I like the conflict build up also, it has potential to go far. Make sure you update us if you end up picking it back up.

To the poem: *snaps*  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

So yeah we got some incredable examples of good writing in here lately. Anyone bold and daring enough to post some more?  

[Anti Raven]

Twilight doesn't even remember what inspired this. She's fairly certain that this piece was crafted out of boredom. The original version has been edited to better reflect Twilight's current mood.

Twilight

And as the rain falls, steady as a drum
I will walk through, my eyes on the skies above.
I'll let my tears meld into the rain, watch as they become one and trickle away
Away from sight and out of my mind, my heart will mend...
Just as it beats against myself, steady as a drum.

Now the water has been stained, invisibly.
A stain that cannot be seen, only felt.
I wonder if the fish can taste my grief,
swimming through their streams...

I will walk through, my eyes on the skies above.
If only I could stop this ache, this hurt, this pain.
Hiding it from the world has become too much,
away from sight and out of my mind,
...deep inside lost in turmoil.
Just as it beats against myself...
This drum will drive me insane. Just to rid of this pain.

 

[AarchAngelTarian]

Nice character/story background buildup there Mr. Jimmy(involving first post). I haven't read the books inspiring this but I'm assuming this isn't a bit of plagiarism. That aside, good work. I might dig up my old hard drive and post some snippets on here that I always got criticized over. Reflecting and refracting and all.


Ooh! I was inspired today to write a sampling of poetry. I would really like to hear any criticizm.

"Lacking"
Sifting through this thoughtless lore
I have but one wish: Nevermore!
Tiring tirade of talk and tadder
Makes appealing the life of adders.
Show me now some recompense
Divulge what makes these words seems sense.  

[Misoka-chan]

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[Prihe]

MrJimmy

Leather and Libraries

I haven't seen it in awhile, and I had never finished it. I plan on doing so in the future though. Giuve me input and ideas, please.

I'll tell you, this story is definitly worth starting again. No questions about that. As far as where to take it... that's hard.

What genra would you place it in? the story isn't about the murder is is? I would think it would be about how whipped the protagonist is with his new chick. I would say pick up the story going through some situations with the protagonist and this sadistic woman. Mabye bring in a third leg, either a man or a woman will do, somthing to make the love situation more complicated by making somone compete. Just know that you could take this a million different ways.

I like the conflict build up also, it has potential to go far. Make sure you update us if you end up picking it back up.

To the poem: *snaps*

No. The story is in fact not that much about the murder. The story's name is waltzing, and after the third chapter-ette *makes up a word* it will recycle back to a seperate plot line drawing from things already used. The first part covers the situation, the second part, the male protagonist, and the third the female character who is ambiguously not exactly the antagonist, but not a protagonist so much either. The story will most likely be just a dark, fairytale-esque account of these two people's lives. There will be a sort of seperate plot to each 1-2-3 revolution. A lot of the outlines for future chapters are much darker than this, and to me, this was fairly clean for my writing- I typically add more gore to my darker writing. But thankyou for reviewing it.

And thanks for the snaps.  

[Jessi_Babii_10_13_90]

Ohh, a triplet of poems! Nice all three. Keep this stuff coming! I love it all! *snaps*  

[a d0t.]

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