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Scene 3.
Kazia's porch. Kazia and her parents are sitting at a table having coffee. Kazia stands to meet Vladek. He grasps Kazia's hand and begins to cover her arm up to the elbow in kisses.
Kazia: Well, who knows best how to love? Come, sit. Papa is ruminating about his decision to allow us to wed.
Pan Suslowski: Sense and duty compel me to say ‘no', but a father's heart has its rights - if it is a weakness, may God judge me for it!
Panni Suslowski: My children, should you ever in your life meet with misfortune, come, take refuge here - here!
Everyone sits at the table. Kazia pours Vladek some coffee. Throughout the rest of his time with the Suslowskis, of the scene, she keeps refilling his cup. After a while, Vladek stands and leaves, saying,
Vladek: My drawing student, Bobus, is sure to be waiting at the studio, and so I must bid you all farewell.
He walks off the porch and crosses the stage. The crowd parts and girls whisper: Magorski - Magorski - that is he! - Halfway a...
A/N:Not really going anywhere with this, I wrote it as an RP sample and liked it. Enjoy!
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Blood swathed the small clearing as if the ground itself had been slashed by mighty claws, and had been bleeding so long that no one noticed anymore. Sides heaving with exhaustion, the few surviving wolves fixed each other with determined glares. None would be willing to compromise, and none would be willing to die without a vicious fight. The choice was theirs alone, and the outcome would cost them everything from death to territory but not pride. They stubbornly kept that small initiative raging in the pits of their growling stomachs.
A battered silver timber wolf arched his neck aggressively, letting a growl resonate between the trees. He was answered without a moment’s pause by the threat of a scarred black wolf. The timber wolf acknowledged his opponent eagerly, too tired even to taunt him but ready to fight to the death.
The previous a draft--ten minutes done at five-thirty AM. This one, with rather more time, this morning. CL's contest.
Thank you, Snoink. On this, I still feel as if I'm writing blind though.
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Sometimes, Bellezza hummed.
Fleeting melody—they were the sounds of lackadays whistling under bullets’ whirr; of children chanting rhymes and lullabies; of the mockingbird at dusk. Wide lips pursed, she stared at paving stones and hummed. But she tried not to recall the tunes. War had its own music, and it had gotten inexorably wound up with hers—like heartbeats against barbed wire.
‘And I don’t wanna fall in love
I don’t wanna hurt me, guv’
I don’t wanna fall in love…’
Little Teresa told her heart holes only came out of bullet holes. She had illustrated it—charcoal and crayon on a scrap of mama’s note paper. In the far left corner, the stationer had printed Pax Christi.
Okay, so this is something I started a few days ago. Not that great, but I do like the plot. So if you can, please help!!
And these first two paragraphs are like the prologue.
Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. This was the only thing that could calm the young woman's pain. Breathing. She sat alone in the plan hospital as she waited for her friend to return with the condition of the only man she truly loved, and now many die because of their love.
The young woman is Allison Bradley, the young man whom she loves is Andrew Lopez. Allison's father, chief of the LAPD Joe Bradley is responsibly for putting Allison and Danny in this situation. He is also a cruel and abusive man. Allison was his punching bag until she turned 18 and moved 3000 miles away to live in New York and attend New York University. He would also do anything to ensure that no man touched her, accept if that man is Officer Jake Thomas. He is a good friend of the chiefs, and went through something which e...
It was this kind of day that you wish you never got out of bed. Parents used to tell me that this was exposed to be the only safe place for a kid to go. Now that I see what this is all about. I guess sometimes parents are wrong.
Here I stand looking down a barrel of a .22 Cobolt hand pistol. I stand between the thin string that divides life and death and this is one thing that I would never want to be on, and now I was. This was it I thought. I couldn’t believe this would happen to me. But the worst part about it is no one will ever see me again.
I stood in the hall scared and nervous with a gun pointed dead in-between my eyes. I looked at the teenager who held it, I knew he was a junior, I knew his name. Also we were friends at a point, but as time grew we split our ways with different friends and interests. Now I regret all those mistakes I made and it was now I was finally realizing what I ...
Days moved by as a leaf before the wind – we would wake, and gulp, as we saw our future unfold. But there were few of us, almost me alone; the bare eyes that could pierce the shadow, and see that it shouldn’t be.
I thought I would go on no matter what, that only would I surrender, when the final of my days died into the mist. Nothing in the core of my heart could have predicted this; nothing could have steadied us for the plunge.
“Be ready, be you and wait for the winds to change,” said I, the nameless voice, unknown to all ears.
#
Never before had I seen the city so elegantly. Stretched out before me, thousands of lights glowed in unison, some flickering under the moon and people, speaking in the breeze, as if sharing a seldom secret. The city had flourished from nothing, and it was from the long memory I had of the place that I recalled its desolate stance, but now as I gazed upon it, I smiled at the endurance by which it thrived. A cool wind whined ...
"No." I tell that to Mom right away. I don't want HER to come here and mess up my summer that was supposed to be the best one ever. I don't, I don't, I don't.
"But Satin dear. She doesn't have anywhere else to go. I doubt that she desperately wants to come here and spend two months with complete strangers. Even though we are of the same blood."
"But not mentally. And besides, I bet she's some meat-eating hillbilly who wears a straw hat and denim overalls and doesn't even know what couscous is..." My voice is starting to break. I don't want her to be here. I, Misty and JK had planned to do everything fun. And now she'd come and ruin that everything.
SHE is my second cousin from backward Northern Australia and Mom doesn't even remember her name.
"Satin, the fact that you've never met her, doesn't mean she's a hillbilly. She can be whatever she is, but you can always teach her what couscous is." Mom gives me a stupid grin and presses her...
Okay, so this is my first ever written story, since most of my stories are just stored up in my head.
“So, x is equal to?” our Math teacher, Ms. Abott droned on.
I, as usual wasn’t paying any attention. And neither was everyone.
Ms. Abott was still scribbling only God knows what when I heard our principal’s croaky voice.
“Ms. Abott?” Ms. Payton called out.
“Class, behave.” she automatically told us as she proceeded out of the classroom. Must be something major then, since Ms. Payton herself went up here. Normally, she just sends the relief teacher, or should I say her secretary to do the work for her.
When the cat is out, the mice come out to play.
If you must know, I am seated at the back next to my buds – namely George to my right and John in front of him – George started to open up the conversation with last night’s game. I’ve already discussed this with my father this morning. Trust me, it didn’t go well. So, I’m not really in the...
Walking.
Through the warm august woods,
trees blocking the light.
Down the cobbled path,
Evening sun feeling my face.
To the left of the mirror like pond,
Rays beating down.
Under the bridge,
In the shade for now.
Giant boulders to the right,
Golden skies now.
Out of the woods
And I can stare the sun in the eye.
Well, here's chapter one of a new novel I'm working on. I decided I would try different waters and wade into the fantasy end of the YWS pool. Hello there. Never seen me? I come bearing tidings from the Action/Adventure forum.
Regardless, this is only a portion of chapter one, seeing as the chapter is roughly 3500 words. With the sudden inflation of the YWS economy, I'm finding my self somewhat short of points, so I'll post part two as soon as I scrounge up a few critiques.
Enjoy.
Sarajevo, Bosnia
1992
“They're getting closer, kid,” Dmitry whispered, trying twice to light the cigarette shivering between his lips; the spent matches – one after the other – stumbling to the ground with withered heads, charred and bowed in penitence. Looking out of the shattered department store window, he lit a third match and – his hands trembling violently – and touched the nodding flame to the tip of his last cigarette. The rest of his Marlboro pack was strewn across the concr...
When I first saw her, time stopped. Nothing else mattered when I was with her. Her smile was the life in my soul. When she looked at me with those bright blue eyes I feel hope and joy still exist in the world. Her only intention is to spread happiness. Every moment I live I wondered how a girl like this could be with me. She is the life in me and I love her with all my heart.
On that star filled November night, all was quiet except for the sounds of a bird that stayed up past its bedtime; I finally built up the courage to do the most frightening thing of my life.
She turned her head away for the stars for a moment and faced me. She gave me a small loving smile and whispered in my ear “I love you with all my heart.” Those were the words that made my heart leap, and I knew that this was the perfect chance to ask her. I got down on one knee and pulled out of my coat pocket a small blac...
George kicked the sink lever. Thanks a lot, George.
and now cylindrical rushes of wastewater stream out to people below, but they just go ahead. Somehow they ignore these water pipes that pipe roots
and waste and back taxes, this second half-of-a-halved root system. Jenny and Johnny build up the tree: Jenny a handrail from Johnny to George and Johnny a greenhouse glass to fit over all of them with only the tree for air and the sink for water.
Good thing students are already wearing their greenhouse glasses with lab coats, bright and crisp for the deflating dampness of the air that day, and that they’re unaware that each orienting step brings them a little closer to the root of it all. Since no one’s ever reached the drip pan, up—the new down—is the only way to go.
Someday someone will want to know how to get out.
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a/n: As a prose poem, did I pull this off in any form whatsoever?
It was a peaceful, silent, autumn day. The leaves were abandoning their homes and gently gliding to the ground. The birds were chirping as they left their nests to fly south for the winter. Other than that the only noise that could be heard was the soft trickle of the river flowing by in an never ending cycle. It was around this time the river started to slow down and take away life itself. But none of this mattered to a young boy; because in a young boys eyes everything is forever.
The young boy approached the river. Humming a song with a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in another, He turned a corner dodged a tree and found what he was looking for. He was standing before a large rock that he and his father discovered many months ago and have gone fishing off of many times. The rock was tall like a small car, with a width and length of a large dinning table. He climbed up the rock, skillfully using the curves ...
I'm sure it's because I'm something she can't fix. Ever since Mom and Dad died, Autumn started cleaning, organizing, and making things perfect. Our house has been spotless for three years.
Gran and I worry about her. Most of the time I worry more than an actual person should. And even though I know she hates me, I can't stop worrying. Maybe it's because, once upon a time, Autumn and I were best friends. You can say she was my only friend.
I knew instantly that all this was because of Mom and Dad. Gran knew it too. She and I were almost as close as Autumn and I used to be. And after Gran came to live with us, and my sister and I started to drift apart, Gran became my new Autumn. I could tell her anything.
So I told her about Nate Bishop.
"He's a little trouble-maker?" she asks me at breakfast.
I nod. "Yes," I say. "He drives a motorcycle. I've seen it, you know. And some girls in my homeroom told me...
Pretty short.. just a little idea I had. Be honest, is it a dud?
"And den duh modthter popped outta duh clothet," I slammed my face against the fake wood surface of my tiny desk, my forehead hitting the name tag labeled "Alec-Sandra Durben".
I lifted my head up and sighed, smoothing out the small ladybug sticker who's edge was lifting up revealing a sticky gray spot on the laminated cover of my name tag. Killing the useless braincells of my seven-year-old self wasn't going to help me in this situation.
"Ok Al, deep breaths. Listen to Terrence read his story, "The Friendly Boogeyman". It's all good. Maybe, like Maggie's story, you'll wake up and it wall all be a dream. Mom will call you downstairs any minute for breakfast. Strawberry Pop Tarts, mm-"
"Miss Durben, may I ask what is so important that you felt the need to share with the class and interrupt Mr. Hastings' story?" Oh gosh. I said that aloud didn't I?
*Rated for language and violence. And some scary parts. I hope.*
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Genesis 4:12 –16, “When thou tillest the ground, is shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt though be in the earth.
And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment is greater than I can bear.
Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from they face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass that every one that findeth me shall slay me.
And the Lord said unto him, Therefore, whosoever slayeth Cain vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him shall kill him.
And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden.
Mike held his hand in front of Joshua, his son, motioning for him to remain silent. The darkening woods were tinted in shadows, hiding deer, game and pheasants. M...
David cries little tears
of glass, raining onto celestial tapestries:
stars that corrupt the sky
like pinpoint screams, punctured
by iron spiders.
Molotov cocktails breathe to
the tempo of dystopia
and lust and human venom,
whose twisted instruments are breaking glass
and gasping footsteps.
Torahs are like cattle brands and
six-point stars are jaundiced badges
that whisper prophesies of ashes burning holes
in Polish snow and gas stumbling from perforated mouths
like pale refugees from a train.
Shattered glass pieces dance in the twilight,
animated by the nodding heads of flames –
metronomes feeding on menorahs.
They dance ponderous and graceful steps,
and laugh incandescent smiles at David
who lies among the stars
whispering crumpled prayers that sound like
a trillion bricks through a flame smudged window.
THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. I WILL UPDATE IT EVERY DAY!
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iDATE FREDDIE
BY spaced_out
CAST
Spencer Shay: legal guardian of Carly, 23, Male
Carly Shay: Spencer’s little sis, 15, female, has crush on Freddie
“When I was young I used to believe that the world was open. Open to ideas and to concepts never before thought up. I used to have the misconception that the world was a decent place where one could live according to his wants, wishes, and expectations. I expected a lot of this world. I expected it to allow me to reach my highest highs, soar through the years in a strong willful gust. I lived by the principal of only the best will do. Only the best house, the best job, the best wife, the best car, the best children.
“Through this mind set I led myself into the deepest holes and the darkest corners. I fought for everything, my business, my wife, my children. I wanted to be the most powerful man in the world. Wishful thinking, I know.
“I had this aspiration as a child to leap over any and all obstacles that were bold enough to stand en el camino, as the Spanish say. I wanted it all. And now look, I sold my billion dollar company, I sold my restaurants, I sold my cars, my hou...
