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Postby UKLFC » Sat Aug 18, 2007 3:36 pm

An extreme deviation from my fanfic, but I started writing a few different things. This is one of them, the others I 'll end up writing and possibly posting depending on their outcome. This I wrote for someone, and they know who they are.....

Sat behind the drums, they thought he didn't notice anything. But he saw the girl in the crowd as he stood up behind his drums, her hair flashing in the lights, cascading down her back. He spent more than an instant looking at her, at her hair, that he almost forgot his cue. Scowling, he sat back down, his hands drumming the same beats he had, whilst him mind was wondering on what it would be like to run his fingers through her long hair. Sighing, he knew he wouldn't have a chance, all the girls aran away from him, but maybe she would be different.
He stepped off the stage, to cheers that bellowed from the audience. He sought her out again, her arms waving, screams of excitement racing from her lips. What he wouldn't do to touch them. He stepped down into the crowd, an unusual thing for him to do, and handed her his drumsticks. She smiled and blushed, giggling quietly. Such innocence. What she didnt notice was the piece of paper wrapped arond one stick, with a note. "Come and see me later, I'll give you a private perfomance. Room 204." He had already left by the time she noticed it, still giggling. She blushed as she read it, her mind pulled in two directions. Should she go, or should she stay away? Did she want to go and see him play just for her? It was an opportunity too good to miss. Leaving her friends, she hailed a cab and went straight to his hotel, lingering in the reception. She had already asked who the occupant of 204 was, and she already knew before the receptionist had stated "Mr Kita." Now she was scared about going up.

He sat in his hotel room, his head bent over the desk and the lyrics he was writing. The words had tumbled into his head and he had to get them out, the song he was compsing was VERY different from any he had written, it was a love song, but even after reading it through, it seemed right. He wondered if she would come to him like he asked, he knew she would be scared, but that, didnt bother him. He would be kind and gentle and not push her, he didn't want to frighten her. He saw her like a flower, only just opening it's petals to the first rays of sun, easily trampled or killed. He would protect her, his flower. A knock on the door hushed his thoughts, and he padded quietly across the room, peering through the keyhole. It was her, she had come. He opened the door and gestured her in, noting the blush on her cheeks and the slight stutter in her voice that betrayed her nervousness. She asked about the "private performance" and he reached under the desk, pulling out an acoustic guitar. She smiled, and settled herself onto the bed, sitting cross legged and watching him. The chords he needed for his song came to him instantly, and she watched as he sang and played, his voice soft and low, much removed from the growl that was often heard. As he played, she got up, and walked over to the door that led out onto the balcony. Swinging it open, she stood out, the traffic noise nearly non existent, all she could hear was him playing and singing. Soon all she could hear was him singing, his voice carrying and getting louder as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and, still singing, stood with her in the moonlight, watching the traffic.

Soon he stopped singing, and reached his hand up to her hair, stroking it, gently and softly, feeling the soft shakes that wound through her. She was so very nervous, what could he do to make her relax? She turned around, uncertainty and, truth be told, a little fear in her eyes. He lifted her chin, softly, and bent his head, allowing his lips to meet hers. She didn't back away from the kiss, but tentatively wrapped her arms around him, as he pulled her closer, covering her face in butterfly kisses so soft and tender, yet so in contrast with his harsh look and demeanor. She sighed softly, wanting more that just tenderness. She reached up to him, and brushed her lips against his, leaving them there, connecting with his own, the kiss deepening. Yet he didn't want to force anything, just to let it take its own pace. To let her be in charge. Her tongue licked across his lips, and hesistantly explored his mouth, his own matching her actions. She tasted sweet, not desperately, cloyingly so, but gently, like the rest of her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, his hands moving restlessly, betraying the notion of being gentlemanly. His hands knew what his mind wanted, but he could not force it, he could not rush her.

She broke the kiss, and looked at him, the taint of fear still hidden in her eyes. Kissing him, it made her feel alive ,more alive than any of those unexperienced louts she was used to had. She felt, special, there was no other word for it. He made her feel wanted and needed in a way no other had instilled within her before. Working more on instinct, she went back over to the bed, sitting upon it, beckoning him closer. Now he was unsure of what she wanted, did she just want to sit with him, or did she want more? The only way he would find out was by joining her, which he sit, perched on the edge of the bed. She giggled at his sudden shyness, realising he was just as nervous as she was. He was more experienced, but he had never wanted anyone so emotionally, so deeply, the way it ran through his veins, calling out for her. He moved closer, and brushed her face with his hands, the softness of her skin evident. He moved closer still, holding her head in his hands, one hand deftly stroking through the mane of hair, as she bent her head towards him, enjoying the closeness. She was almost laying across his lap, impossible for him to reach down and steal a kiss, so he moved her, laying her flat down and laying beside her, facing each other. The blush had left her cheeks, as she moved closer, wanting to taste him again. He knew they would not do anything more than this, but it was a taster, of things to come.

They lay facing each other, kissing and tasting each other, touching each other tentatively and softly, scared of possible reactions. But each knew the other felt the same, that something had drawn them together, and that now they would not be apart. As the night grew later, he knew she would not leave his side, however tired she was becoming, he was used to the late nights, he thrived on little sleep, but it was apparent she needed to. Picking her up, he quickly shifted the covers, so she would lay underneath and not become cold. She moved under gratefully, the chill in the air apparent, the door still open, and the sounds of traffic now non existent. He lay beside her, she faced away from him but curled up beside him, he could feel every point where her body met his, where her leg rested, where her head lay on his arm. He wrapped his free arm around her, his fingers entwining with her own, and they lay there, he watching nothing but her, as her breaths settled into a rhythm that suggested sleep. He shifted slightly, slowly, to be able to watch her sleep, curled up in his arms. He played with her hair, it was as soft as silk. He lay there, watching her, until the sun started to rise in the sky, bolts of clouds becoming red tipped and hazy, and he knew he must sleep. Although they had done nothing, there was time for that another day, and it did not matter when, for she would be his now and forever. His own little moonlit rose, his flower, he would tend to her and protect her with confidence and pride, for she was his, and he hers.
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Postby GothikaFairy » Sun Aug 19, 2007 12:30 pm

I can guess who that was for XD

You can really write diverse stuff, Kerry :mrgreen: great chapter. gore and more.
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Postby Mad Madam Mimm » Sun Aug 19, 2007 1:01 pm

Gods Kerry... genius. Pure genius. I'm speechless. Two brilliant things to read.
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Postby Wings-Of-Fire » Sun Aug 19, 2007 5:17 pm

We all know you are the Queen of Gore... :twisted:

Little did we know that you are also the Queen of Romance... :wink:

I bet you made 'they know who they are..... 's day/month/year.
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Postby Ultimate Warrior » Sun Aug 19, 2007 6:13 pm

So well written I've had to leave twice to be violently ill. Mushy stuff Kerry. I'm surprised at you! :lol:

Awesomely written as ever. :wink:
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Postby grims » Sun Aug 19, 2007 6:15 pm

:o
Good I must admit
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Postby UKLFC » Sat Aug 25, 2007 2:06 am

Back to me story it seems

Incarnation

Part Twenty Two, Part One: Enary

They all lay there, asleep, Kita by Lordi, Amen, his arms wrapped around Crimson, Kalma, his hat as his feet. Ebnary didn't sleep, she couldn't sleep, it was all in her head, what she had done. Did she feel guilt? Did she feel hurt? To be honest she didnt know herself, to be honest al lshe could feel was the black sludge polluting her veins and her thoughts, twisting her beyond all sense of normality. She knew what she had to do, she knew that she would need ot do something, and soon. She knew to take the one she wanted by charm would take time, but by force? Easily done. The words coiled off her tongue like snakes as she wove them together into a spell that would settle deeper slumber on the group, and chained in a sort of protection until they awoke that would attempt to keep them from her. She knew the one who called himself an alien, but was more like a dog as he lay by the armoured one, suspected her already. Easily handled, she could confirm his suspicions and make sure he knew of things, in fact he did already, so time was of the essence, she had to move. And fast.

Walking over to Kalma, taking no care or heed to muffle her footsteps, she knew the slumber over him was enchanted, no spells were needed to weld him to her. She was already aware of the thrall she held over him, of how enamoured he was. Which would make her depserate scheme all the easier to perform. No need to wake him yet, she thought, that time would come later. She uttered two or three words and saw him drift lazily off the floor, hovering a few inches above it in a seated position, as he slept, as he would be moved. She lifted her hands and gestured forward, waving them like waving a candle out. He moved forward, slowly, lazily, letting small gusts of air flow freely from his waker and drift over the others, moving the dust that covered the cave floor but not moving it into a an obvious sign. She laughed, knowing the dog like one would have to follow scent to find her.

Out of the cave she wandered, making sure her package was following or leading her, as the mood took her. She led him out back onto the pathway, aware of the sun lazily dripping through the branches and tress as they went into more open areas. She knew somewhere there was a perfect place to do what she had to do, she knew there was a hill close by, the top seen by all around it. Perfect for a sacrifice, she thought to herself, the need to talk unnecessary because of her silent still sleeping companion. "If only you knew, Kalma, if only you knew," she uttered out loud, laughing manically at the end of the sentence. She just couldn't help herself it appeared, unable to hide what was inside any longer. The physical manifestations of her inner soul would not be easy to hide, she had already noticed dark flecks in her snow blonde hair. Sweeping it back off her face, she surged forward, pushed by her inner force, pushed relentlessly foward by what was inside, by the dark matter swallowing her whole and claiming her as it's own. She would be there soon, and then, no one could stop her.
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Postby Wings-Of-Fire » Sat Aug 25, 2007 2:10 am

Ohhhhh....

What now? AHHH you cant leave it THERE!!

Noooo.... What's she going to do to Kalma? *covers GF's eyes*
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Postby Mad Madam Mimm » Sat Aug 25, 2007 11:32 am

oooh! NONO! What happens? Must-know-must-find-out-must-know-must-find-out... as ever kerry, your writing is pro-standard. And we've got 3 more years of it just for us! :wink:
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Postby GothikaFairy » Sat Aug 25, 2007 11:41 am

haha whaat? I wanna see! *jumps up and down*

:mrgreen: love it love it love it Kerry!!update soon!
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Postby UKLFC » Tue Sep 18, 2007 9:40 pm

Ok, again different, I am needing some critisicm or some praise for my first piece of coursework.....

As the moon rose above the clouds, she walked confidently through the graveyard gates, noticing the spots of rust that flecked off onto her clothes as she brushed past, her tread soft and sure. She stood for a moment by the carved iron gates, inhaling the sweet night air, and scanning the trail ahead of her. All around were different size and shape gravestones, some the moonlight hit, highlighting the words engraved deeply into their fronts. Others were moss covered, hiding what they had to say, the names they recorded, the family lines buried deep within their hidden vaults. The list of the dead. Nothing living was here, except if you counted the owl hooting slowly and lazily in the trees, hiding in the same blanket of darkness that hid herself.

As she walked, her long skirt spilled along the ground, dragging on the rain sodden grass, catching unseen stones that sparkled with luminescence as their bare heads were turned back into the soil that bore them. She took little notice of the graves, laid bare in front of her, occasionally touching the cold graphite of the markers, the stone absorbing heat from her like a vampire taking blood. She knew her destination, she had known since the letter had arrived. Still she held it in her hand, the once tightly curled parchment since laid flat from heavy reading and rereading. Although the message was simple, she seemed unable to take it in. All it said was, “Meet me. Our usual place.” The parchment felt rough in her hand, the wax that bound it tightly together now ripped apart, her fingers running over the rough edges, her fingers reminding her that although in her head she thought it was a dream, it was truly a reality. He wanted to see her; he wanted to see her here, where it had all begun. She had been waiting for this summons for the past six months, baring her soul to him had been the hardest thing she had even done, the deepest trust in him ran through her. He could never betray her emotions, she knew that, he had promised her, the last night they had met. But he did not know of the turmoil that had been caused the last few months, the hatred, the anger, the animosity, all aimed at her. Sweet, innocent her, untainted by any, but still clothed in black. He would help her make sense of the darkness, he would lead her back into the light. He would not let her down, not tonight.

She carried on, relentlessly, deeper into the graveyard, to the hidden parts where no one came anymore, the places where all had forgotten. Here the ground was harder, stonier, here it was more treacherous underfoot, every time she stepped forward, every time she moved further in, feeling the sharp slip of stones beneath her feet, the branches as they brushed against her and took grip, trying to pull her in, trying to make her at one with the forest that now surrounded her. But still she had not gone far enough. She steadied her resolve, and gripping onto the branch of the nearest tree, she pulled herself forward again, the bark flaking off onto her hand like skin sloughed off a roasted pig. No more did she lose her grip, she knew of her destination, she remembered the path, once laid in stone, but shown to her many a time in the past, always by moonlight, always out before the sun rose its head and tipped the sky with fire, always before day had come and claimed the star filled sky for its own.

She had reached her goal, the monolithic crypt. The moonlight shone, hitting the topmost carvings along the stone roof, illuminating the faces of the angels carved from nothingness. Beauty from which nothing had come before. Something from nothingness, art from placid stone. She had forgotten how they looked, staring out into the night, protecting what lay within. She also knew from experience that for some unbeknownst reason the crypt was now empty, and had become the perfect meeting place, one few knew little about, and one few would ever find. Taking a few tentative steps closer, she took her time, inhaling the heady fumes that surrounded her, the knowledge already remembered that what lay within would be harsh and stale against her lungs, until she had grown used to it again. She came ever closer to the door, the stone doorway roughly hewn, not in keeping with the rest of the design. She supposed it had been a last minute plan, putting a door in was usually the last thing on the designer’s mind. No one wanted to see the dead, to see the wooden boxes that contained dust and bones. That contained the last remains of the forgotten and lost. Standing in front of the door, it took all her will to push open the wooden barrier, mindful to watch her hands on the splintered wood, listening to the squeak as it went across the cold wooden floor, as the hinges, rusted after a period of unuse, cracked noisily, sending out spatters of blood red rust settling onto the pale stone floor below.

“You came at last.” She said into the shadows, sensing his presence before she could see him
“You knew I would.” He inclined his head lazily, the long dead stench of his scent hanging lazily in the air.
“I thought you wouldn’t come. I thought you had forgotten me. It has been a long time.” He voice was filled with regret, as she walked into the crypt, and standing in front of him, warily, testing the water. Testing him.
“Oh Rosalind, how you doubt me. Of course I came, I wouldn’t have sent for you if I didn’t want to see you again.”
She saw the flash of crimson in his eye, as he carefully lit a candle, the moonlight slowly falling in, the dirt darkened claws and heavy armour he wore on him illuminated if only for a second. He had always had in irrestible pull, she felt the toxicity more than ever. Evil beset good, light versus dark, this time the struggle was equal, for she had come willingly, the power matched on both sides.
She felt him move in the half light, she felt his arms wrap around her, the flash of candle on his fingertips, the clink as metal hit metal, the pull as she was taken back by him.
“You knew I would come willingly,” she whispered, her words more into the dark air than to him.
“But Rosalind, you forget how well I know you. How well I have gotten to know you. I watch you, everyday, I see you, and I see the whispers you utter into the pitch black night. The way they taunt you and chase you, teasing you, pushing you down in the mud until you are as black as they! The way they call you witch!” His soft lilting voice has turned into a growl as he pulled her tighter again, crushing himself against her ribs, his armour pressed into her back, the flesh yielding.

“Oh, how I missed you.” Rosalind sighed, attempting to turn around, trying to forget what he had uttered. Had he really been watching her, keeping a close eye on her? She soon found she was trapped, crushed into his arms. She started to struggle, swinging from side to side with as much force as she could muster, whipping her head wildly from side to side.
“Did you think I would let you go this time?” Again his voice had changed, no longer did the voice sound like honey, it sounded like poison. He breathed into her neck, into her hair, deeply, inhaling the scent of her and her rising terror. “Good, I see you’re scared. This will make it easier.”

He nudged the hair away from her neck with his nose, something he had done plenty of times. He looked down upon the pale swan like neck, bared for him, tainted orange by the candlelight that seeped out. He bared his fangs, and arching back his head, plunged his teeth into her waiting neck, his tongue eagerly flicking at the metallic tasting blood that flowed from within. “You taste how you always did, sweet, pure, and full of life.” He tipped his head back, allowing the blood to issue forth from her neck, spilling down her dress. He wrapped his arms tighter still, ignoring the crunch as her ribs first broke and then mashed against each other, piercing the delicate flesh that lay outwards and what lay inside. Rosalind’s face pulled back into a look of terror, her eyes wide, tears trembling on her eyes, then cascading forth like a waterfall. He turned her, then flung her to the ground, ignoring the cry of pain that issued forth from her lips, her already broken chest broken again.

“You will feel my every move, exquisite torture for you, endless pleasure for me.” He drew his finger down her neck, no longer snow white, now darkened with her blood. Kneeling in front of her, he traced the lines of her dress with his deceptively sharp claws, cutting through the material as if it were paper, it slowly falling to her sides, revealing bare and trembling flesh. He traced the lines along her belly, each line followed by a line of blood, drawn across her. He stroked her, gently, soothingly, before raising his arm high and plunging his claws deep into the flesh, ripping through skin, fat and muscle. Instead of lifting his hand out, he pulled it to the left, ripping the skin free, tearing it like butter, the ever growing flap lying limply along the palm of his hand. Soon he grew restless, this was a game to him, the flesh leaving his hand and hitting what remained with a wet slap. He played with her, with what he found within, her intestines gleaming limply in the candlelight, the moon for now gone behind a cloud. He knew her ribs were broken, her lungs punctured, she was slowly drowning in her own blood.
He raised his arm again, and bunching his hand into a fist, brought it down of what remained of her solar plexus, the strangled cry of pain caught in her throat, caught by the blood drenching her inside. He ripped the skin open again, baring what was left of her chest, the cavity filling with blood, her heart beating frantically. To prolong his amusement, he twined her intestines around his fingers, watching her heart pulse in time with the movements, the body jumping slightly in pain, the nerves still alive. He was sick of her already, she had been no fun whatsoever.

He reached into her chest cavity, the blood pooling around his fingers, and grabbed hold of her heart, its beats becoming more frantic as he pulled, he hands reaching upward in supplication, to beg him for mercy.
“My dear Rosalind, were you never told not to trust what comes to you at night?” He asked, teasing her with his words. She stared blankly at him, all her concentration fixed on trying to stay alive. He pulled, harder still, ripping her heart out from the arteries and veins that connected it, watching the blood pump cathartically, her body still thinking it had a heart, still thinking there was life. Soon it was still, limp, lifeless, laying there, drenched in blood, the last of the tears falling from her face into the stone floor below. He looked at her, and smiled, his fangs glowing as the light teased its way along them, highlighting the blood red points, the ring around his mouth. He looked down at her in disdain, then leaned over and blew out the candle, filling the crypt with darkness, the only light flowing in that through the door, shining on her lifeless arm, spattered with blood. He knew no one would ever find her here, and if they did, all that would be left was bone and dust. As he left, he turned back, throwing her still warm heart at the wall, as a parting gift.
“Pathetic.”
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Postby Mad Madam Mimm » Tue Sep 18, 2007 10:28 pm

:shock: :shock: :shock: :shock:

uuuuuh....

Kerry, i dont know how you can get romance and horror in the same story, but you do it. I bow to you once more, oh goddess.
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Postby UKLFC » Tue Sep 18, 2007 10:32 pm

Blame them for setting me work i can do....And that is the poetic style of writing.....Now, do i submit it?
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Postby Dezalene » Tue Sep 18, 2007 10:42 pm

Excellent work. If they give you crap for trying to submit it, just say it's a moral for the fact that sometimes trying to rekindle a flame once lost with an old lover will leave you with devestating results.

This is something I would love to read in an English/Langauge class. Not only is it well-written, but it's very thought-provoking and meant to put you in the shoes of the characters. You're either terrified by the violent imagery that goes on, or you're excited and inticed to continue reading, longing to know how the tale will end.

I like it! Awesome job, and I hope you do well if you do decide to submit it! :mrgreen:

UKLFC wrote:“Oh, how I missed you.” Rosalind sighed, attempting to turn around, trying to forget what he had uttered. Had he really been watching her, keeping a close eye on her? She soon found she was trapped, crushed into his arms. She started to struggle, swinging from side to side with as much force as she could muster, whipping her head wildly from side to side.
“Did you think I would let you go this time?” Again his voice had changed, no longer did the voice sound like honey, it sounded like poison. He breathed into her neck, into her hair, deeply, inhaling the scent of her and her rising terror. “Good, I see you’re scared. This will make it easier.”


The moment I hit a certain line here, the Alice Cooper song "Poison" started playing through my head. Almost a nice fit. Almost.
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Postby Ultimate Warrior » Wed Sep 19, 2007 10:05 pm

Submit it submit it!!! Oh my Gods: why the Hell haven't you got a publishing deal already????????

*throws out all my work*

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Postby UKLFC » Tue Oct 02, 2007 9:30 pm

First piece of full coursework, first draft. Please, let me know what you think.

I looked through her window again last night, there she lay, skin as white as porcelain, hair as black as pitch, the deepest, darkest, sweetest part of the night dissolving into nothingness as I stood and watched. And I knew, I’d have to do it soon, I’d have to take her now. I’d have to swallow her up and make her mine, I had to.

I slowly made my way into the house, through the cellar window that was never closed, wary of the clutter on the floor, spilling out of boxes. Either they had just moved in, or were moving out. I don’t think they’d want to stay here, not after this night. Closing the window softly behind me, for the first time ever, I swung the bolt across. Now they couldn’t get out, and no one else could disturb me. I tiptoed over to the stairs, mindful of what surrounded me, I felt in my pocket, the tip of my knife catching my finger, deep enough to mark, but not deep enough to leave blood. I didn’t want to leave a trace of my presence. Not to drive them mad, but to leave them puzzled as to who I really was. I made my way up the stairs, slowly, softly, lifting each foot carefully and setting it back down, the movements a balletic poetry in themselves.

I had reached the door. A slash of light came from underneath, yet I could hear no noise, I knew they were all sleeping now, I knew I’d have to be quick, before her screams woke someone. I knew the layout of the house, she had let me in, after I’d befriended her, after I’d let her get close. Or what she thought was close. To me it was another mask I hid behind, another thing I used to shield myself. She was a nice girl, so pretty, her soft red lips and button nose, the way they tasted as she kissed me. A smile rose upon my face, or more a grimace of evil, of hatred. Choosing her was just part of the game, so lonely, so new, so..so untainted.

The air tasted sweet as I moved up the house, knife still hidden. I was so used to the stale harsh air that this was like poison to me, poison, yet strangely, it whetted my senses and made me want more. I knew which room was hers, I recognised the plate that hung on the door, swinging softly in the breeze that came from the air conditioning. I opened the door, and let myself in, deeper into the rabbit hole, in I went, to let her meet her fate, to meet her maker. Me.

Again I opened a door, softly, slowly, hesitantly, letting myself in and closing it behind me, hearing the lock click into place as I swung the latch up. I knew there was a ladder on her window, I had used it before. Her window hung open, the moon peering in from behind clouds. It was so romantic, and it took my breath away. I saw her, laying on the bed, the slats of moonlight covering her. Was I going to have a change of heart? Was I not going to kill her? I pulled out my knife, it glinting in the moonlight, and went over to her bed, pulling back the covers. She smiled and sighed in her sleep, arching her neck back so I could see the pale flesh, the sweet blood that beat within. It was now, or it was never. I hefted my arm back, and prepared to strike.

As my knife arm went down, her eyes opened, wide, terrified, the blue accentuated by the pale glow seeping in. She looked at me, started to mouth no. It was then I knew I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t kill her. For one aso heartless, as hated as me, as derided and teased and beaten, I knew I couldn’t hurt her, even after all I had done. I knew what I had to do.

I turned the knife on myself, I pulled my arm back again, her hand reaching up around my wrist, looking at me with those soulful eyes. I shook my head, this had to be done, I couldn’t taint her life anymore. I pulled back again, ready, and plunged my arm down, piercing my chest. I could feel the blood pump, I could feel it spurt out as I pulled the knife free with a sickening squelch, and yet. For the first time in my life I felt free, I felt, lighter, good, innocent, pure. As my eyes closed I mouthed the words I had longed to say to her.

“I love you.”
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Postby grims » Tue Oct 02, 2007 9:31 pm

WOW
I like it...
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Postby Ultimate Warrior » Tue Oct 02, 2007 9:38 pm

Once again you have humbled me, and made me feel unworthy, and yet in that same instant filled me with such sweetness that it cannot be described.

Goddess you're fuckin amazing! :D
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Postby Mad Madam Mimm » Wed Oct 03, 2007 1:43 pm

Kneel and worship at the mighty godess' feet!! I love it, its absolutely brilliant, as ever.,
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Postby UKLFC » Thu Oct 04, 2007 7:49 pm

You best do, I got A's for my transcript and magazine work. now to wait for the creative writing
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Postby Ultimate Warrior » Fri Oct 05, 2007 4:22 pm

UKLFC wrote:You best do, I got A's for my transcript and magazine work. now to wait for the creative writing


No worries there if that was the work you submitted then :wink:
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Postby UKLFC » Tue Oct 09, 2007 8:11 pm

Hmm, the first story, is now back, and marked! I GOT AN A! And she said its of publishable quality, so I am EXTREMELY impressed with myself
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Postby Ultimate Warrior » Tue Oct 09, 2007 9:48 pm

UKLFC wrote:Hmm, the first story, is now back, and marked! I GOT AN A! And she said its of publishable quality, so I am EXTREMELY impressed with myself


Hell yeah! Awesome!

Told you you should have a publishing deal already :wink:
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Postby UKLFC » Tue Dec 11, 2007 12:41 am

its been a while, but things beyond my control have forced the muse away.

Until now.......

Control is a fickle thing
You can twist and dangle me
Like a puppet on a string
You can make me fight and tumble over
You can make me stop and watch the days
But you can never have control
Of whats inside my heady haze
You can sit and push my buttons
You can always make me cry
But youll never have control
Of the heady haze inside
I wonder if I pushed your buttons
Tears of blood began to cry
If under my spell, your will was broken?
And all control could say goodbye?

FANFIC WILL BE BACK THIS WEEK!
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Postby Dezalene » Tue Dec 11, 2007 2:17 am

The poem is...very deep, very dark. And some of the lines flow quite nicely, especially ,"Control is a fickle thing, You can twist and dangle me, Like a puppet on a string". Obviously, my favorite line, because it's quite catcy too. Awesome job!
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