ForEver, ForNever, ForAlways (Prologue)

lilymoore · 2009-04-18T05:07:04Z

I’ll never forget you And I’ll never forgive you. For love can last a moment And hate can last Forever. She held the sweatshirt in her hands, completely awestruck by how powerful it was. It had seen plenty of wear and tear before it had fallen into her possession, which was visible by the eroding cuffs, half a dozen holes, and a multitude of unidentifiable stains. In her eyes, it was a symbol of love. But in his hands, it had become a weapon of hate, almost as if he had been telling her, “Dress yourself. I can’t bear to look at you naked.” And still she cradled it in her hands and ran her fingers over the rough red fabric. It was far too big for her to wear; her hands barely peeked out of the sleeves and it draped down almost to her knees. Just as well, she had thrown it on, bundled up the clothes she had lost to his ravaging hands, and disappeared out the door. For a moment, she had hesitated outside, hoping his face would appear in the frame of the cheap, poorly attatched screen door and he would beckon her inside with his big, childish grin. But he didn’t. He never welcomed her back inside, did not embrace her within his warm form, and did not slide his hands up her thigh, groping at her body the way he had before. No, that was far too much to hope for. So she had walked the three blocks home, naked accept for his sweatshirt, bright pink underwear, and foam sandles meant for sand and surf rather then bitter Midwestern autumsn. By the time she had stumbled back through her bedroom window, her hair was a windswept mess, far from the sheet of shiny brown perfection she had brought it to when she had slipped out her small basement exit. But her body ached for sleep and her mind cried out for a reprieve. Her throat was worn raw from screaming out in a motley mess of mixed sensations and she couldn’t deny that it had been good, had been great. She had loved the way he had pulled at her clothes, pushing loose the buckle of her belt, fumbling anxiously for the clasp of her bra, and nearly ripping her out of her jeans. His touch was rough and warm, pinching at her skin and prying her loose of inhibition until she had been his willing plaything. Her body cried out for more as it had all night. Every touch had awakened a new awareness in herself. She had been alive. She had felt a whole new form of love. But there she sat the next morning, cradling his sweatshirt in her hands, wanting him again and again to reach his fingers up her shirt, to grope at her breasts, to nibble at her flesh. Still, the sweatshirt said everything that needed to be said. He didn’t want her for anything more then rough pleasures. He would never look at her and find her beautiful, even pretty. Her brown eyes were too simple and she was trapped in a state of being neither plain nor unique. She was average. With shaking hands, she folded the coarse red monster and burried her face into it. More hurtful then anything was the knowledge that she wouldn’t forget this. Worse still was knowing that someday, he would forget. And she couldn’t haut the tears. Lily's Notes: By the way, this is only the begining of a semi-long short story I'm working on in parts. Like a little bit of a novella. Anyway, though there isn't much to this section just yet, there will be more and everything will hopefully tie together quite nicely.

wizkid515

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Mon May 18, 2009 6:47 am

wizkid515 says... · Mon May 18, 2009 6:47 am

Great work!!! :lol:

This is a great story with an interesting plot. I think it would be a great story if you continue with it.
i am only a new person really so my critiquing inst that great.

i think you need to elaborate more on what happened that night rather than just jumping right ahead.

have a great time writing the rest.

Everybody wants to go to heaven; but nobody wants to die.

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lakegirls

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Mon May 18, 2009 11:50 pm

lakegirls says... · Mon May 18, 2009 11:50 pm

Hi,
Everyone has pretty much picked up on the error's that I found so I am just here to praise you. This story was well written and intriguing right to the end. Though, maybe you should consider putting in their names. Like when the girl is holding the sweater, you could say something like "She ran her finger over the spot where his name was stitched: (Enter name). Just something simple like that.

I really hope you continue with this piece, as it was very enjoyable to read!

If you need anything PM me

Love,
N

Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.
-Gloria Steinem

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olivia1987uk

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Tue May 19, 2009 10:41 am

olivia1987uk says... · Tue May 19, 2009 10:41 am

I love this...and anybody who knows me will realise I NEVER say that straight away! Everyone has obviously picked up on all the niggling little problems judging by the sheer number of reviews. This is purely to say congratulations on achieving such a fabulous writing style. The enormity of your detail is perfect!

Can't wait to read more!

Olivia
xxx
If you wake up in the morning and all you can think of is writing, then you're a writer...

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mechi.

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Tue May 19, 2009 11:42 pm

mechi. says... · Tue May 19, 2009 11:42 pm

Wow. This is the first story I've read on here as I just joined.
I really, really liked the vagueness of the piece, it just made it all the more intriguing. I wish you'd divulged a little more about the characters, but, at the same time, I like it better that way. Wow, I just really, really like it.
Can't wait for the next part:)
-Mechi

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KaitelynMiller

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Thu May 28, 2009 10:46 pm

KaitelynMiller says... · Thu May 28, 2009 10:46 pm

I actually really like this. It will appeal to many readers emotions. Everyone has felt used at one point in their lives. It will really let readers connect to your character with simple brown eyes. This will eventually blossom into a great story if you continue to write this way with less vagueness. :!:

You're mad. Bonkers. Off your head. But I'll tell you a secret; all the best people are

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