|Posted by Szayel on November 10, 2012 at 3:15 PM||comments (4)|
My school is having a young authors competition and I want to send this in. Tell me what you think (It uses the poem I wrote a while ago)
For once, your words evade you. You look at the paper, trying to make sense of this. How can this situation, with such familiarity, happen again? How can the words that you pride yourself in leave without their proper goodbye? How can these same words that you love so dearly leave without a moment’s thought? But it’s true. Your words are gone.
You decide to go outside. You slip on a coat and walk toward your door, not even bothering with shoes.When you get outside, the cold wind stings you sharply. The sky is grey, and the woods are silent. You take a step out. The wind is even worse now, not blocked by your back porch. You don’t care though. The pain from the wind feels good. It wakes you up from this numbness. It keeps things real.
You lie down on the scratchy grass and gaze at the clouds. They remind you of your words—lost.
“Clouds,” you ask, “will you be my paper? Will you let me write my lost words on your souls, to be held in your hearts forever?”
The clouds don’t answer. You didn’t expect them to, but the fact that they didn’t makes you angry. Why don’t your words come back? Why do they stay lost, hidden from the eyes that so wish to see them? You want to scream at them to answer you, scream and cry out with everything you’ve been holding back. But you don’t. You hold your anguish in, just like you did before, and lay there.
After a while, you start to think. You think about your words and how they cruelly left you. Then you realize that maybe those words weren’t meant for paper, but that they were meant for her, and the reason why they left was because they weren’t going to allow you to bleed them out on something so irrelevant.
You get up and run toward your house, throwing open the door to get inside. You run across the kitchen and skid into your room. Then you grab your phone and dial her number.
She answers after three rings. “Hello?”
Your voice is steady this time. It doesn’t tremble or crack like it did before. Your voice is also the voice that will be listened to this time. The words flow right out:
“I want to care, I do. But did you care when you drove my heart straight through? Did you care, though you knew, when my tears started to flow, far too soon?
So why is it my love I explain, that I feigned the ability to feel such pain? Do you get the point I'm trying to get across? Or shall my heart remain forever lost?”
She is silent, and you know that she understands.
Eventually she says,“Those last two lines… They weren’t meant for me, were they?”
“No, they weren’t,” you respond.
Because even now, she can still see straight through you. She didn’t need to understand, as she had always understood. Those last two lines weren’t meant for her; they were meant for you.
|Posted by Szayel on August 23, 2012 at 1:50 PM||comments (10)|
Hello everyone. As you know, the site was kinda dying. I wasn't able to really focus on it, because I was so busy trying to finish my book before school started. But now that I'm finished, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'll be back for good, and updating the site a lot more. It won't just be werewolf specific, but other stuff that will generally get the ball rolling. Thanks again for joining the site.
If you were reading the chapters on the site, but want to actually read the book (The final edit is way more polished; almost to a rewrite.) PM me so we can work something out. I'm not going to make you buy the book.
|Posted by Szayel on February 1, 2012 at 6:45 PM||comments (5)|