This is a story I've been working on for a while. I'm basically posting this for feedback, to see what other think about it. This is only the beginning, as there is much more to it. Here goes:
She lay on her bed, lifeless and full of tears. Not a sound dare disturb her hollow dream. Not an emotion dare touch her wounded psyche. Hair drenched in blood, not a being shed a tear for her tattered body. No matter, this was a normal day. She thinks of how lucky she is. Surely this is normal? There must be someone out there who has it worse? Or is she dreaming up a fallacy that isn’t there?
It seems like only moments before she entered the door to the wretched hell hole called “home”. Full of tears, she threw herself on the couch, motionless where she lay. Her mother came in from the other room hysterical, flailing her arms around in a beastlike manner.
“What in the nine hells is wrong with you today? Don’t you have no manners than to walk through that door like a deranged little child?”
A silence crept along for the next few moments. Mother had noticed her daughter slowly get up off her stomach, and crawl across the couch to a sitting position, holding her wrist with tenderness. Mother had taken notice of this, and sat down next to her child, peering over her shoulder, trying to see what her daughter was grasping. She gently moved her daughter’s hand away from her wrist, screaming every obscenity she could muster.
“What in God’s name did you do to yourself? You come home with your wrist all cut up and you think....”
“Mother, I’m pregnant!”
Only silence follows again. Mother has a shocked look on her face. The daughter held her wrist, face filled with pain, both physical, and emotional.
“Who is the father?” Mother mustered at last.
Out of fear of revealing the disgusting truth, she only could think of but one thing to say: “I don’t know.” Daughter said as she lowered her head, weeping more.
“You little whore! You come home making all kinds of racket, waking me up in the middle of the day, knowing I work at 7, to tell me you’re pregnant?!?! AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO THE FATHER IS?!?!”
Her daughter just sat there, tears rolling down her cheek, not uttering a word, as if the silence were the only peace she was getting.
“Answer me *****!” Mother said as she slapped her daughter across the face. The momentum of her daughter’s head swinging to one side caused a puddle of saliva to ejaculate from her mouth, flying across the room. She just kept her head turned as her mother continued to blast her for all it was worth. “What are these cuts from? You think you can just cut your way out of this one?!” mother said as she sternly grabbed her daughter’s wrist.
A scream of bloody murder rang through her mother’s ears, as her mother looked in horror. A stream of crimson began seeping from the wound. Daughter just put her hand over her wrist, pressing as hard as she could. Mother stared in shock, then suddenly filled with anger.
“You get to your room now! Your father will deal with you when he gets home!” Mother said as she began storming out of the room. “Stop that God damn bleeding too! You’re going to ruin my new couch! You better not let yourself bleed out either, because you’re going to buy me a new one if you ruined it!”
Her daughter slowly erected herself from the couch, feeling weaker by the moment. She stumbled through the sea of beer cans, plastic bags, and other miscellaneous garbage that was scattered on the floor. As she reached her door, she collapsed on the ground, breathing deeply and heavily. Now she was scared. Not of death, but of something far worse: life. Her father would be home soon, and all she wanted to do was die rather than face her father one more time. Somehow, she never got her wish. As she began cleaning up the last of the dried blood from her wrist, father erupted through the door, staggering as if he were some kind of mummy. She began rocking back and forth in the corner, tears pouring from her eyes, scared of the events that were about to unfold. All she could imagine was the harsh love her father was about to give her, because pain and abuse is all that she came to associate with her father.
“Rachael! You little *****! Where the **** are you?!?!” Father powered out as his feet stomped across the floor. After an eternity of pounding, Father finally appeared in the doorway. Rachael looked up, turning white the moment she saw her father, tears still gliding down her face.
“Yes father?” Rachael said as she smiled innocently, knowing what was about to happen. Why couldn’t God just let her die? Why does she have to continue to endure this pain day after day? Rachael wished she had used a sharper razor blade. The only thoughts that are filling her mind right now are those of death.
“Don’t ‘Yes father?’ me you ****ing whore! Let me see your God damned wrist!” Father said as he accelerated over to Rachael, yanking her wrist as if he were going to rip her arm off. A loud yelp filled the room as a sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room. Her wrist, and now a bruised face, had only convinced her that she was going to finally finish the deed after her father was done crucifying her.
“You think this is ****ing funny? You slit your ****ing wrist to get attention? Is that it?”
Not even a second passed after her father finished the sentence before another loud pop echoed down the hall. Father was pulling his hand back from the second strike across Rachael’s face as he began to shout again.
“Answer me *****!” Silence only filled the room. “YOU WANT ATTENTION?!?! I’ll give it to you!” Father said as he pursued his daughter. A loud scream erupted from her petite body, as another crack filled the room. Rachael felt a sudden jerk between her thighs, as a sharp pain suddenly filled her body. She felt helpless, not shedding a tear, but crying inside.
“You got pregnant huh? How does this feel you ****ing whore?” Father muttered with a smile on his face as he began pumping.
After what seemed like hours passed, but had only been moments, her father had finally ended it with another blow to the face. Rachael dropped to the bed faster than a meteor falling from the sky.
“If you want to die that bad, then I’ll make it happen. Just remember, I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.” Father spoke as he fixed the last loop of his belt and turned around for the door. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or so help me God, nobody will find you when I get done with you.”
“Dad!” she cried one last time, as all the strength left her body. Blood running down her face, bruises across her face, and on her thighs, Rachael lay lifeless on the bed.
Several hours later, Rachael managed to pry her eyes open, using as much energy as she could. She lay there. Cold, missing her garments, window open, and drenched in blood. She tried to muster the strength to sit up, but was soon defeated by the pain that followed this activity. A low moan filled her body. She could not get up, but rather lay there, hoping it would all end. Hoping it would be over soon. Where are you God? Someone needs you...
Very interesting...failed suicide, pregnancy, abusive parents... she has one hell of a tough life. I liked this section; it kind of disturbed me and depressed me at the same time. Make the rest of this story as interesting or better. Good luck!
Ah ha, it's back only now with some explanation and a sad (instead of happy) face icon.
It's obviously pretty depressing and disturbing but at the same time interesting and fairly well-written. I'm not sure where it all goes from here but it's a good start.
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"...because without beer, things do not seem to go as well."
The sound of the breeze cutting through leaves was almost soothing. It was almost as if everything else had ceased to exist. Not a single stir came about. This meant that peace had finally come, right? Rachael had finally awakened from the deep sleep she was in. She noticed that her room was now dark and cold, like a tomb of some unknown king. A shiver ran up her spine as she jerked to get up. Was she only dreaming? Her face felt sticky, and her hair was matted down to her head. The sheets were stained with blood. Her room looked like a graveyard that had hosted a number of fallen heroes, defeated in the process of obtaining glory on the battlefield. There was that much blood. Her knees were weak, and her arms felt heavy. The stench of evil was still in the air, which meant father was still home. Her insides churned.
As Rachael rolled over onto her stomach, she noticed a bottle sitting menacingly beside her bed, as if it were waiting for her to wake up. She put her arm out the grasp the object. Only pain ensued. With great effort, she was able to grab the bottle, and raise it to her lips. Empty. In a sudden move of desperation, she swung her arm as hard as she could, still holding the bottle in her hand. A loud shattering noise filled the room. Rachael suddenly looked towards the door to make sure that father wasn’t coming down the hall again. After convincing herself that he had not heard the glass break, she examined what was left in her palm. It was the neck of a glass bottle, with a sticker still half intact that once said ‘Bacardi Rum’. It wasn’t the label that made Rachael smile though. It was the fact that she now had in her possession a glass shard, capable of cutting away any problems that had pestered her for her whole life. Her hands began shaking uncontrollably. Rachael lifted the glass to her wrist, wondering if someone would even notice. She looked around. Nobody was there. She pressed the shard against her flesh, squinting, knowing the pain that would follow. She was happy though. It would finally be over. She got ready to swipe the glass like a credit card. This was finally it.
“BOO!!” A voice shouted loudly behind her ear. Rachael nearly jumped out of her skin. She dropped the shard on the floor, scraping her wrist as it left her hand. Her face was as white as a ghost. Slowly, Rachael turned her head, and noticed a face in her window.
“Aaron!” Rachael cried. All pain had suddenly left her body. She set her hand on the bed in front of her, making her way to the window. She yelped as she realized it was the hand that hosted her shredded wrist.
“Oh my God! Rach…” Aaron muttered. Words could not describe the scene that lay before him. He hopped through the window quick as can be, and perched himself on the bed next to Rachael. “Are you ok? Oh my God, what the hell happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to leave” Tears of joy starting flooding Rachael’s cheek. She was delighted to see her friend at last. This was the only comfort Rachael would receive. Aaron embraced her in his arms. She was finally safe. Aaron ran his hand down Rachael’s cheek, attempting to wipe the tears away. His hand never connected. She flinched, and quickly turned her face away. Bruises all across her face were now visible to the world.
“Your father?” Aaron had whispered in a tender voice.
Rachael nodded. Aaron now looked disgusted. Fire had now sparked in his eyes, as his body began to fill with rage and hate. At this very moment, the world around him seemed bleak. Even the trees outside let out a groan.
“No!” Rachael pleaded. “Please. Let’s just go.”
“Ok.” Aaron submitted to her request. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Come with me, I’ll take you to my place.”
Father was lucky. Had only a few more moments passed, his life would have ended abruptly. No matter. Aaron had a wounded soul to tend to. Revenge was the last thing on his mind now. Aaron had carried Rachael in his arms to his car. She was too weak to stand, and too weak to walk. As he set her down in the passenger seat, he had noticed that the usual twinkle in her eye was gone. ‘What had this man done to her?’ he thought to himself. Aaron was all Rachael had left. For that, she was thankful.
I must admit I am now intrigued. What interests me most is my ability to relate to this story, almost completely. Because of that I'll never forgive you if you ruin it with future installements. That said, please continue.
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My Youtube Channel Wolfwood Sama on MTGO (Westane for PureMTGO community events)
ISD Block UR - Burning Vengeance BG - The Rock RUG - RUG Control BBB - Zombies
Your beginning is drastically different than your continuation, quite drastically. I still enjoyed it though and am intrigued enough to wait for what comes next
blah, and then Aaron, the best friend and only guy the filthy whore didn't **** drives off a bridge killing both of them..to "end the pain"...oh what a cruel world we live in...god I hate you all
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Don't mind my posts, they are probably just a product of gang violence
This is a very good story ,very sad but well writtian.
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Nyarlathotep must all things be told
for he is the messenger between the spheres
and the traveler between the realms of the living and the dead.
He shall summon forth the ancient ones
and wake them from their deathly slumber
then shall the elder signs be shattered. Trade Thread
I thought is was a lovely story.Not that 'lovely' means in love or pretty, it was just well written and very good......this story is kinda interesting..i'll kepp reading'......guess i'll wait for the next. :grin2:
Maybe you'll get Archenemy cards in your Duel Decks From The Vault: Deck Builder's Toolkit All-Foil Duels of the Planeswalkers Downloadable Content Expansion (Tactics Edition).
c´mon this is no good at all. For a 21 century story is quite old and with a very used subject, if you want some inspiration go on and read spanish novels specialy the one about carvalho.
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Ingredientes:
Leche de cabra, azucar, glucosa, carbonato.
(no contiene colorantes ni saborizantes artificiales).
:spirit2:
i read the first part over at etc. and thought it was pretty out there. But i guess this does happen to some teens in life. it's really sad actually. anyway i hope to see the next bit if there is any more.
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Official Master of Banner Domain of the IMAGECRAFTERS
currently obbsessed with Naruto Manga....banners can wait.
I regocnise many parts of this in many of my friends' life.. Theese things happen more often then most people know.. Well written as well, altough its disturbing to read it..
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Quote from Einstein »
Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism -how passionately I hate them!
Quote from Nietzsche »
The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.
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Just add me on msn if you have any questions or just want to talk
Wow, that story could make a goth out of the most Stoic of us. except me, cus Im a pirate. Seriously though, dont let there be a happy ending. I hate happy endings.
She lay on her bed, lifeless and full of tears. Not a sound dare disturb her hollow dream. Not an emotion dare touch her wounded psyche. Hair drenched in blood, not a being shed a tear for her tattered body. No matter, this was a normal day. She thinks of how lucky she is. Surely this is normal? There must be someone out there who has it worse? Or is she dreaming up a fallacy that isn’t there?
It seems like only moments before she entered the door to the wretched hell hole called “home”. Full of tears, she threw herself on the couch, motionless where she lay. Her mother came in from the other room hysterical, flailing her arms around in a beastlike manner.
“What in the nine hells is wrong with you today? Don’t you have no manners than to walk through that door like a deranged little child?”
A silence crept along for the next few moments. Mother had noticed her daughter slowly get up off her stomach, and crawl across the couch to a sitting position, holding her wrist with tenderness. Mother had taken notice of this, and sat down next to her child, peering over her shoulder, trying to see what her daughter was grasping. She gently moved her daughter’s hand away from her wrist, screaming every obscenity she could muster.
“What in God’s name did you do to yourself? You come home with your wrist all cut up and you think....”
“Mother, I’m pregnant!”
Only silence follows again. Mother has a shocked look on her face. The daughter held her wrist, face filled with pain, both physical, and emotional.
“Who is the father?” Mother mustered at last.
Out of fear of revealing the disgusting truth, she only could think of but one thing to say: “I don’t know.” Daughter said as she lowered her head, weeping more.
“You little whore! You come home making all kinds of racket, waking me up in the middle of the day, knowing I work at 7, to tell me you’re pregnant?!?! AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO THE FATHER IS?!?!”
Her daughter just sat there, tears rolling down her cheek, not uttering a word, as if the silence were the only peace she was getting.
“Answer me *****!” Mother said as she slapped her daughter across the face. The momentum of her daughter’s head swinging to one side caused a puddle of saliva to ejaculate from her mouth, flying across the room. She just kept her head turned as her mother continued to blast her for all it was worth. “What are these cuts from? You think you can just cut your way out of this one?!” mother said as she sternly grabbed her daughter’s wrist.
A scream of bloody murder rang through her mother’s ears, as her mother looked in horror. A stream of crimson began seeping from the wound. Daughter just put her hand over her wrist, pressing as hard as she could. Mother stared in shock, then suddenly filled with anger.
“You get to your room now! Your father will deal with you when he gets home!” Mother said as she began storming out of the room. “Stop that God damn bleeding too! You’re going to ruin my new couch! You better not let yourself bleed out either, because you’re going to buy me a new one if you ruined it!”
Her daughter slowly erected herself from the couch, feeling weaker by the moment. She stumbled through the sea of beer cans, plastic bags, and other miscellaneous garbage that was scattered on the floor. As she reached her door, she collapsed on the ground, breathing deeply and heavily. Now she was scared. Not of death, but of something far worse: life. Her father would be home soon, and all she wanted to do was die rather than face her father one more time. Somehow, she never got her wish. As she began cleaning up the last of the dried blood from her wrist, father erupted through the door, staggering as if he were some kind of mummy. She began rocking back and forth in the corner, tears pouring from her eyes, scared of the events that were about to unfold. All she could imagine was the harsh love her father was about to give her, because pain and abuse is all that she came to associate with her father.
“Rachael! You little *****! Where the **** are you?!?!” Father powered out as his feet stomped across the floor. After an eternity of pounding, Father finally appeared in the doorway. Rachael looked up, turning white the moment she saw her father, tears still gliding down her face.
“Yes father?” Rachael said as she smiled innocently, knowing what was about to happen. Why couldn’t God just let her die? Why does she have to continue to endure this pain day after day? Rachael wished she had used a sharper razor blade. The only thoughts that are filling her mind right now are those of death.
“Don’t ‘Yes father?’ me you ****ing whore! Let me see your God damned wrist!” Father said as he accelerated over to Rachael, yanking her wrist as if he were going to rip her arm off. A loud yelp filled the room as a sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room. Her wrist, and now a bruised face, had only convinced her that she was going to finally finish the deed after her father was done crucifying her.
“You think this is ****ing funny? You slit your ****ing wrist to get attention? Is that it?”
Not even a second passed after her father finished the sentence before another loud pop echoed down the hall. Father was pulling his hand back from the second strike across Rachael’s face as he began to shout again.
“Answer me *****!” Silence only filled the room. “YOU WANT ATTENTION?!?! I’ll give it to you!” Father said as he pursued his daughter. A loud scream erupted from her petite body, as another crack filled the room. Rachael felt a sudden jerk between her thighs, as a sharp pain suddenly filled her body. She felt helpless, not shedding a tear, but crying inside.
“You got pregnant huh? How does this feel you ****ing whore?” Father muttered with a smile on his face as he began pumping.
After what seemed like hours passed, but had only been moments, her father had finally ended it with another blow to the face. Rachael dropped to the bed faster than a meteor falling from the sky.
“If you want to die that bad, then I’ll make it happen. Just remember, I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.” Father spoke as he fixed the last loop of his belt and turned around for the door. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or so help me God, nobody will find you when I get done with you.”
“Dad!” she cried one last time, as all the strength left her body. Blood running down her face, bruises across her face, and on her thighs, Rachael lay lifeless on the bed.
Several hours later, Rachael managed to pry her eyes open, using as much energy as she could. She lay there. Cold, missing her garments, window open, and drenched in blood. She tried to muster the strength to sit up, but was soon defeated by the pain that followed this activity. A low moan filled her body. She could not get up, but rather lay there, hoping it would all end. Hoping it would be over soon. Where are you God? Someone needs you...
"For every heart that finds a love, there is a heart that cries.
It's obviously pretty depressing and disturbing but at the same time interesting and fairly well-written. I'm not sure where it all goes from here but it's a good start.
As Rachael rolled over onto her stomach, she noticed a bottle sitting menacingly beside her bed, as if it were waiting for her to wake up. She put her arm out the grasp the object. Only pain ensued. With great effort, she was able to grab the bottle, and raise it to her lips. Empty. In a sudden move of desperation, she swung her arm as hard as she could, still holding the bottle in her hand. A loud shattering noise filled the room. Rachael suddenly looked towards the door to make sure that father wasn’t coming down the hall again. After convincing herself that he had not heard the glass break, she examined what was left in her palm. It was the neck of a glass bottle, with a sticker still half intact that once said ‘Bacardi Rum’. It wasn’t the label that made Rachael smile though. It was the fact that she now had in her possession a glass shard, capable of cutting away any problems that had pestered her for her whole life. Her hands began shaking uncontrollably. Rachael lifted the glass to her wrist, wondering if someone would even notice. She looked around. Nobody was there. She pressed the shard against her flesh, squinting, knowing the pain that would follow. She was happy though. It would finally be over. She got ready to swipe the glass like a credit card. This was finally it.
“BOO!!” A voice shouted loudly behind her ear. Rachael nearly jumped out of her skin. She dropped the shard on the floor, scraping her wrist as it left her hand. Her face was as white as a ghost. Slowly, Rachael turned her head, and noticed a face in her window.
“Aaron!” Rachael cried. All pain had suddenly left her body. She set her hand on the bed in front of her, making her way to the window. She yelped as she realized it was the hand that hosted her shredded wrist.
“Oh my God! Rach…” Aaron muttered. Words could not describe the scene that lay before him. He hopped through the window quick as can be, and perched himself on the bed next to Rachael. “Are you ok? Oh my God, what the hell happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to leave” Tears of joy starting flooding Rachael’s cheek. She was delighted to see her friend at last. This was the only comfort Rachael would receive. Aaron embraced her in his arms. She was finally safe. Aaron ran his hand down Rachael’s cheek, attempting to wipe the tears away. His hand never connected. She flinched, and quickly turned her face away. Bruises all across her face were now visible to the world.
“Your father?” Aaron had whispered in a tender voice.
Rachael nodded. Aaron now looked disgusted. Fire had now sparked in his eyes, as his body began to fill with rage and hate. At this very moment, the world around him seemed bleak. Even the trees outside let out a groan.
“No!” Rachael pleaded. “Please. Let’s just go.”
“Ok.” Aaron submitted to her request. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Come with me, I’ll take you to my place.”
Father was lucky. Had only a few more moments passed, his life would have ended abruptly. No matter. Aaron had a wounded soul to tend to. Revenge was the last thing on his mind now. Aaron had carried Rachael in his arms to his car. She was too weak to stand, and too weak to walk. As he set her down in the passenger seat, he had noticed that the usual twinkle in her eye was gone. ‘What had this man done to her?’ he thought to himself. Aaron was all Rachael had left. For that, she was thankful.
"For every heart that finds a love, there is a heart that cries.
Wolfwood Sama on MTGO (Westane for PureMTGO community events)
UR - Burning Vengeance
BG - The Rock
RUG - RUG Control
BBB - Zombies
for he is the messenger between the spheres
and the traveler between the realms of the living and the dead.
He shall summon forth the ancient ones
and wake them from their deathly slumber
then shall the elder signs be shattered.
Trade Thread
:\
The first wasn't that well written, but the second installment was better, except maybe the ending.
Good job! :biggrin3:
Leche de cabra, azucar, glucosa, carbonato.
(no contiene colorantes ni saborizantes artificiales).
:spirit2:
i read the first part over at etc. and thought it was pretty out there. But i guess this does happen to some teens in life. it's really sad actually. anyway i hope to see the next bit if there is any more.
[thread=41221][my extendo sig][/thread] [thread=56664][moderator helpdesk][/thread] [Pen and Paper Inn]
Just add me on msn if you have any questions or just want to talk
*Insert random ispriring thoughtful quote here.*
Go away...i have nothing else to say.
:fingers:
Leche de cabra, azucar, glucosa, carbonato.
(no contiene colorantes ni saborizantes artificiales).
:spirit2: