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4 Forum Posts by "Squenji"

Response to: Writer's Guild Posted April 1st, 2005 in Clubs & Crews
At 4/1/05 12:15 AM, squee5000 wrote:
At 3/31/05 04:18 PM, Myst_Williams wrote:
Untitled
Very good, my favourite thus far. Your meter and rhyme etc wasn't there, but it flowed and the words moved with one another in an odd, intriguing way. Ireally like this one.
Yeah...um...

Would that one be mine? Sorry, I'm kinda slow...x.x

Oh, God I AM reterted >_<
METER.
RHYME.
Sorry.

And thanks to the guy that critisized my story. It's always nice to hear constructive critisism.

Response to: Writer's Guild Posted April 1st, 2005 in Clubs & Crews
At 3/31/05 04:18 PM, Myst_Williams wrote:
Untitled
Very good, my favourite thus far. Your meter and rhyme etc wasn't there, but it flowed and the words moved with one another in an odd, intriguing way. Ireally like this one.

Yeah...um...

Would that one be mine? Sorry, I'm kinda slow...x.x

Here's a new one. I'm a little nervous about posting it, as it is complete and utter crap, but:

Reality

I opened my eyes to see a large room with posters covering the wall. I didn't read them, I was just looking at all of the rows of sleeping bags similar to the one I was in. Seems that I'm the last one awake. I got up and cheerfully walked into a room of misfits. Even though they didn't look it, they were all friends. This was a place where no one was judged. It was eternal happiness. And although I had never been there, I was no stranger to it. I was a friend.

Who keeps talking outside my door? Will they stop? Will they go away? I'm not worried. I know him. We're relatives. But I'm not sure who he is. I'm not sure if I will be able to get this out right...let alone even write it.

I knew someone here very well. She knew me, too. More than friends. Less than siblings. We were casual when people were around, but we loved each other so much. We were perectly comfortable with it, which was a first for me. We took each other away from reality. It was a perfect love that no one knew of. If they did, they understood. And at night, when no one was looking, we kissed. It was not something very big, we were just verifying and embracing our love. And it was unimaginably perfect in an odd way.

I don't feel very good about this. I'm going to walk away. My fingers are glued to the keys, moving and typing in a mindless, robotic way. And who is the person that speaks so loudly outside my door, in the hallway? What are they doing there? Why are they causing so much noise? Should I investigate or let it go? Such a simple thing can tear your mind apart, such as the creaking noise I am constantly hearing along with the person talking.

I want to meet her again. I am now in a world of prejudice and judgement because of the wrong shirt or the wrong shoes. There, I wasn't short, and I wasn't teased. Definitely not by her. I just want to remember what she looks like, who she is. Subconsciously, I love her. It's surprising, how one can love what they can't remember. Every dream makes a world of contradiction to mortality. That was a place where contradiction was a law accompanied only by peace. That was a place where, unlike here, cleanliness was hidden under the dirt.

Response to: Writer's Guild Posted March 28th, 2005 in Clubs & Crews

Sorry I haven't been here often. Here's my first one. Hope it's scary enough for ya!

The steady creaking of the floorboards as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other mesmerized him as he stared out into the suspicious woods. He held a firm gaze on the dry branches that had given up their eternal attempt to reach the sky. He focused on the trunks, riddled with scratches here and there, filled with vacant holes created by animals...innocent animals. But there was something more.

He felt as if he were being stared at, as well. Through the newly risen sun's light, he could see the sparkle of beady eyes, not to mention sharp teeth. He slowly tiptoed toward his rifle on the wall, watching its every move, waiting to attack. He snatched it off of the wall quickly, seeing if the creature would do anything, but to his disappointment, it stayed perfectly still.

His heart rate rose as his fingers began to tremble. He cocked his gun and walked down the stairs of his front porch very slowly so that he wouldn't cause a disturbance. He stopped as he was approaching the forest. Sitting down, he aimed the gun toward its face. Its confidence surprised him. Its eyes still stared at him thorough the dead bushes as it growled. Just as his sweaty finger pulled the trigger, it swiftly disappeared. In shock, the man dropped his gun and scambled away. His whimpers carried throughout the still air, following the effects of the gunshot and the birds that had suddenly risen from the trees in a gray cloud of feathers.

Slipping on the wet grass, he lost his balance and fell onto the ground. Fear rushed through his body at a mile a minute as he clawwed at the ground for escape. Hot air escaped onto the back of his neck as all of his darkest nightmares were brought to life. Every moment in his life summed up to that point. He placed his forehead on the ground and prayed silently, as the heat of its breath came closer and closer.

His final teardrop fell through the weeds onto the wet soil, but his blood reddened his final few seconds.

Response to: Writer's Guild Posted March 11th, 2005 in Clubs & Crews

I would like to join. I have written a few stories and would like to share some.