I haven't written in a long time, so please excuse the grammar and awkwardness of the piece (I spent the last 30 minutes or so writing). As always critiques are welcome. Thank you to those for taking the time to read.


The volume suddenly decreased as the stinging glacial waters surrounded her body. The heavy white dress billow as the settling waters rushed to fill its open spaces; while the train twisted into ethereal shapes behind her. There was a slight moment of panic as she felt herself being dragged down to the muddy bottom.

( Continue here... )

I was sitting alone in my room, eyes closed as I allowed the sun to stream in through the window and fall upon my body. My back lay flat against the bed as I listened the music streaming from the stereo. I was never going to leave my room again, I decided as I turned over on my side, eyes gazing out the window.

 

The volume suddenly decreased and with a jolting movement I turned back towards the door of my room.

 

The scent wasn't anything G had encountered before. It was heavenly, like an Adonis's body- perfect for worshipping, it was intoxicating; it speaks ( Read more... )

Rush, rush, twirl, her feet struggle to coordinate with his. His smirk, a sly one, tugging at the corners of his lips, tempting her to return it. Her heart pounds in her head, she realizes the volume suddenly decreased. Or maybe it's her, maybe it's because he whispers so softly in her ear that she can't help but be deaf to the world...

What do you want?! She screamed at him. Tell me... what do you want!! His blank stare out the kitchen window told her everything she needed to know. Standing there watching his blank look fueled the anger building up inside her. Why didn't he care? Why didn't he want her? Her blood on the brink of boiling, knuckles white from grasping the mug in her hand, he finally spoke. You're right... I want her, and I'm sorry. With one fluid motion she launches the mug in his direction shattering on the wall behind him, contents spilling all over the floor.

( Cut for Content )

Critiques are always welcome :)

the volume suddenly decreased

Line contributed by mmorton65360

The next line will be posted Thursday, July 2nd around 7:00 AM EST.


1) Please remember to tag the line when you post your entry.
2) Please bold or otherwise indicate where the line is used in your piece of writing (unless it will change the artistic emphasis or value of your piece).
3) Please LJ cut long entries (more than 3 paragraphs or stanzas).


Sorry for the delay everyone, things have been crazy with my work schedule and an already long commute made worse by the recent DC train crash.

when is the new line going to be posted??

(apologies for the slight abuse of the english language, I was aiming for a certain style)


The television set flickers past infomercial, infomercial, cheesy erotica movie, infomercial, infomercial. She never stops, never pauses on one thing for too long. Three minutes, that's the limit and as soon as she feels her eyelids droop or jerks herself back to the status of awake; she moves on.

( read more )

Cross-posted to my journal: code_renovatio

( Karma sucks. Trust me. I know it does.  )

There she is, the girl I see everyday. I don’t know how to greet her, or even walk up to her. She seems lost and distant and always picks the wrong way to go where she wants. I always want to tell her “Well you can’t get there going THAT way!” But even when I open my mouth no words will come out.  Every morning she avoids me, though I catch glimpses of her. Her face is a bit pale, with dark circles under the eyes, sometimes those blue eyes are even red. I watch as she walks down the hallway, head down, her hair covering as much of her face as possible, it doesn’t even looked like it was brushed. As if she just woke up and didn’t bother with it. Her clothing looks like it is two times bigger than she really is, and I wonder what she is hiding underneath. Is it bruises and scars? Is she skinny. Anorexia or bulimic? They always look a bit dirty as well though the stains are untraceable as to what they are.  I wish I could do something besides see her, glimpse her. But she ignores me, walks by me, always her head down.  There are moments when I catch her eye, where she stands in front of me staring back, inspecting me, as if she wasn’t seeing me. Of course if she was seeing me, she was seeing herself as well, in my face. In her mirror.

First draft, so nice comments, please!   ............................... I wanted to take "...dark circles..." a different direction than all the other posts so far have done. Let me know what you think.

The digital clock on the dashboard flashed 1:00 as my car twisted down a winding dirt road. Rows and rows of trees surrounded me as I moved farther away from the glowing city lights. I tapped the brakes of the car, slowing down to watch the figure rustling through the forest bushes. The dark figure dashed back into the trees before I could determine what it was. My curiousity overtook me and I turned off my car, grabbed my safety flashlight from the glovebox, and sneaked into the woods.

I didn't know curiousity could be so terrifying. Wind rocked the trees and animals let out strange, howling noises just like I'd always seen in movies. Still, I couldn't head home until I found the dark figure I'd seen moments ago. I pushed through the darkness and continued my search for the fast, dark figure. A scratching sound echoed in through the forest and the dark figure ran between two trees again, stopping suddenly to rest behind a bush. In order not to scare the dark figure, I dropped to my knees and crawled in the direction the creature. I inched slowly closer.

I clicked on my flashlight and waved it around the bush harboring the creature. The creature--a raccoon--stared up at me, with dark circles under her eyes.  I saw two small raccoons, whom I assumed to be her babies, quivering behind her. It was then I realized that her dark circles weren't just raccoon markings. She had spent the whole night protecting her babies from unwanted visitors much like myself.

With dark circles under her eyes Annabelle stood in front of the airport, her eyes tired and mind slowly shutting down.

With dark circles under her eyes she waited in line to buy the plane ticket, swaying slightly in her spot.

With dark circles under her eyes Annabelle went through security, appalled at how little she had with her. She used to have so much…

Read the rest here

rocking back and forth with her back to the window
and that ratty old blanket drawn tight round her neck,
the wind pounding rain on the glass without mercy,
the lightning and thunder dueling for dominance.

she hasn't slept in three days, you know, honey,
she's been sitting like that and rocking like that,
thinking, those blue eyes betraying no thoughts,
but thinking of futures -- of you, really, dear.

and I've been here watching her, feeding her too,
waiting for something to crack in her shell,
waiting to hold her when tears finally fall.
I think that she's waiting to cry just to you.

but the rain hasn't stopped, nor has her heart.
she tolerates presence of outsiders, but still,
with dark circles under her eyes she'll be waiting.
with wide young blue eyes she's waiting for you.

Em is standing by the casket looking at her gram. She's laid out in a summer dress with small blue flowers, and a favorite pair of Chucky T's -- the red ones with green laces. Tucked between her left arm and her side is the first book of the journal she began at twelve, "A Record of My Travels Through the Universe."

( more ... )

With dark circles under her eyes, she scanned the list. John Brown, John Hamill, John Potter. Around her, there with minute explosions of sobs as loved ones recognized the name of the soldier who'd left them behind for the sake of their nation. The sobs would be followed by dry racking gasps for air, followed by more sobs, this time more violent and heart-wrenching. Only occassionally were there the stifled sighs of relief and murmers of quiet prayer.

Fortunately for her, she could save her tears for when he came home.

Not a bleedin' sight of the name of John Rigby, Praise the Lord.

The art teacher paced around her classroom. She occasionally leaned over a student's shoulder to get a better view of their art, but I barely noticed because, for once, I was focused on my own project. When I heard her approaching, I leaned over my white paper, using the skin-colored pastel to shade in around the mouth. She tried leaning over me, but I shifted forward, putting myself in her way.

"Let me see it." That was unmistakably an order. I slid back, revealing a young girl. Her hair was shoulder length, and brown, with dark circles under the eyes. There was a faint hand print  on her face. Around her neck was a long leather strap, with a small tag attached that read my name, Emmalie. The portrait cut off at the shoulders, but both she and I could tell that the girl was naked. She pursed her lips.

"It's supposed to be a self portrait." She tried to shame me. I brushed the hair from my sleep-deprived eyes, and tugged at my turtleneck, revealing a glimpse of leather.


"It is."