Young Writers Society

I looked down on Jack and found lifeless eyes staring up at me from blue oceans. The ocean always stole your heart away. “Jack…” I bent my head over him and cryed some more.
__________
“Miss.” I heard someone ask from a distance. “You can let go of him now.” Thin fingers pried at my hands and I let them. They were my mom’s. I felt the cold body of a dead Jack leave me as I sat there in a nothingness.
“Jessica. Come on, hunny. We’re going home.” I felt hands pick me up and help me to a car as far as I could tell. I felt bumps and was jolted up and down. I felt one set of eyes on me. Jessie. After while I broke from my state and stared back at Jessie with a fake smile.
“I’m fine, Buddy. I’m fine,” I tried reassuring. He didn’t believe me, but turned in his seat to look out at the darkness of the night.

Bare Bones wrote: Viola Jane Marigold was an odd name. Viola’s parents had no reason for the decision; neither played anything remotely musical, and they both hated Austen. Yet, on the moment of her naming, she had been christened Viola Jane Marigold. Perhaps, had either parent understood the outrageously painful experiences that one went through with such a name, they would not have thought of it at all. Viola doubted it; her parents were the kind not to care.

Isaac climbed the stairs warily, his fingers gently intertwining with Lara’s. He looked back at her for a split second. What was he doing? Was this kind of revenge that he had planned? Cecilia would never even know that he had been with her. Maybe that was what motivated him. Lara was beautiful. Not like Cecilia, but she was beautiful in her own right. Cecilia. Was she really that beautiful? Just lately her skin appeared to be blemishing more than ever before, wrinkles enveloping her forehead when she smiled. The smile false. He scowled at the thought of her. At the top of the stairs he pulled Lara into his arms, trailing kisses down her tanned neck. She tasted of the autumn, crisp…decay. He devoured the rotten taste, as she was willing to sleep in his bed, fall into the cold winter he was offering to her. She would freeze in his tangled sheets, the cold shoulder of deceit.

“Aw, poor baby,” Vance smirked at her. “You just don’t want anyone to think you’re desperate.” He leaned in close to her face. “But, you never know. Maybe some poor blind soul will come along one day,” He leaned even closer and whispered in her ear, “And make you fall head over heels in love.”

As the three men disappeared out of the street, Jekyll awoke in darkness. Right in front of him stood the cage, the bars weakened from his last touch. From behind the barrier, the monster looked at him pityingly.

They hurt you... they hurt me. We cannot allow this.

“I can't let you out. I won't do it. Even if I wanted to, I destroyed the rest of the formula.”

You don't need the formula. You never did. Open the gate.

“No... I can't...”

Henry... set me free. I will seek revenge on them. You aren't to blame. There were too many and you are weak, after all.

“No, Edward... I won't allow it...”

Just one touch...

Henry's hand reached out of its own accord. The monster bobbed its head up and down in enthusiastic approval.

Yes... that's it... let the animal in you run free...

His fingertips touched the cold iron and the metal sizzled, as if it were being superheated. It began to melt under his touch, something that caused Jekyll to gasp. As the bars fell away, the monster drew itself up to his full height and stalked past its weary alter-ego, paused, then turned around and smiled.

It's so easy, isn't it Henry? Giving in to your dark side...

On the street, the unconscious Jekyll's body shuddered violently for a moment, rippling tremors traveling over his skin like tiny waves reaching the shoreline, then stopped. The hair on his pallid arms, now visible through the rips created while he was being beaten, fell out onto the cold stones and dissipated on the wind. His pale skin began to split and tear, the muscles underneath swelling to nearly three times their original size. The flimsy, rubbery skin peeled back to reveal a waxen texture underneath, vaporising into black dust as it fell away. As Henry shed his skin, his body doubled in volume, splitting his clothing at the seams. The wet, dark hair that covered his head slid from his skull and melted into the puddle around his head.

The horrific transformation took place in under three minutes. Still unconscious, no-one who knew Dr. Henry Jekyll intimately would have recognised the broken man laying in the puddle in the alley. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open with a start. Vibrant green eyes the colour of newly-cut grass blinked quickly and peered out at the world.

“Well, this is the oddest angle I've seen London at, I must confess,” Edward Hyde purred, spluttering in the rank water. He moved swiftly to his feet, stretching and flexing his muscles experimentally, drawing himself up to his full height.

“New body, that's interesting,” he murmured, then stopped. The clothes Jekyll had been wearing were falling from his body and he stood, nearly naked, in the middle of the street.

“Hmm, problem.”

A rude, loud laugh echoed around him and Hyde remembered. Remembered what the muggers had done to Jekyll. Remembered what he had promised in return for being let out. He smiled viciously.

“Playtime,” he whispered, before disappearing into the darkness.

As Andrew thought of all the possible ways Elizabeth could have discovered his secret, Elizabeth knelt down in front of him and stroked his face. Oh her touch was the calming of his soul. It had cooked in anger but now it rested, for he had been caressed by angel. Giving into her, he let her take him into her arms. But this closeness was dangerous. Not only had he hungered for the taste of her flesh but his desires could not be controlled. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her more than life itself. If it meant that Edward would kill him if he had did more than kiss her, then so be it. Slowly he could feel himself changing into human form. His fur slipped from his body revealing it to the sun. Oh how wonderful it felt to him. It was like learning to breathe all over again.
"Elizabeth," he gasped.
"I saw you in my dreams."
Andrew was speechless. He closed his eyes and listened to the rhythm of her soul, hoping it would calm the love for her that coursed through his veins.
"And I had thought that you were not real. That it was just a dream but here you are."
"Are not you afraid?" he asked, his eyes fluttering.
"No. Never. You are beautiful."
"If only beauty was enough to save us all."

“I'm... I'm not... done... yet,” I gasp, coloured dots dancing before me, creating a honey-comb effect across my eyes as the whole world pixilates.

“I am,” Mike says and he walks away. Just like that. I'm still fuming over it later as I choke on a cigarette just inside my house. It feels like the walls are moving in on me, that or I'm slipping down, my back against one wall, my feet moving to meet the other and my bottom thudding softly against the carpet. I cry hard and loud. No one comes.

“Jessie! Watch out!” He heard Amber cry. Ducking he fell to the ground just in time to only have his hair sizzled. He looked up. Only one person could have that power. Maria.
There she was. She wore a pair of jeans today. Though she looked pissed and not like herself if she looked like it she must be Maria. There was no one like her. He mentaly slapped himself. He needed to stop thinking of her like that. It was bad enough that he liked her but the worst part about it was that she was on the wrong side.

The tall mysteriously handsome character held a composed personality the whole evening. He politely kissed her hand when introduced, as she politely blushed back. How frustrating it was for her that he was sat at the other end of the table, talking to her wretchedly boring cousins, she felt for him, how much better it would have been for him if only he was sat next to her. She ate her meal only thinking of him and what stories she had to share with him, how amazing and passionate his voice was. She watched as his lips moved in conversation with her cousins, his lips slightly parted and wet.

Gladius wrote:But I’m not focused on that, or her words, or the moon-bathed surroundings, or even the trail; these observations aren’t even secondary. I’m focused inward, where I’m in complete, absolute turmoil. My emotions are sobbing up an ocean, drowning my heart in razor-sharp knives that are tearing me apart from the inside. My mind’s screaming at me that this is a stupid idea and I should be in the house already sleeping or studying for fall midterms next week.

Through it all, though, my heart’s inner eye can only go to one image:

Him dancing with her through the whole night.

The only thing I can allow myself to think at the moment is, ‘I didn’t even get one dance!’

All I can do for what seems an interminable time is drown in my emotions: anger at and frustration with myself; jealousy for her getting the best guy any girl could ever have; and, over it all, utterly unending, devouring, black-hole-like pain. I hardly notice when an exhausted Neoma slows to a trot and then a walk before halting beside our spring.

When I realize the comfortable rocking motion of my horse’s gait has halted, I raise my head wearily. With tear-blurred, bloodshot eyes I notice the moonbeams falling gently through the broken canopy over the crystal waters of Faere Spring, illuminating with motes of light the small particles of forest debris that are somehow hanging in midair. That’s one of the things that’s always attracted me to this place—that, and the romantic air.

That turns my thoughts bitter. What good was having a romantic place all to yourself? It was only romantic if there was someone special to share it with.