- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Currently untitled; Still subject to change | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 23 2009, 01:52 AM (728 Views) | |
| ** Death's servant | Jul 23 2009, 01:52 AM Post #1 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
It is an old photograph, covered in lines and creases from remembered folds. In the photograph, there are a boy and a girl They both appear to be 15 or 16, though it's quite possible that they are older. The boy is tall with short black hair. His eyes, though the picture is faded, are deep brown that seems to glow with warmth and kindness. There is an air of calm about him. He doesn't look happy though, rather he stares through the photo with no smile, and a glimmer of sadness touches the edges of his eyes. He seems to be in some kind of pain. His arm is around the girl. The girl is a stark contrast to her photographic counterpart. Her hair is light brown and straight, falling down to her shoulders. Streaks of red and purple are dyed into her hair. She is short enough the photo is taken from somewhat of a distance to capture both faces, hers just barely reaching the boy's chest. Her eyes are startlingly green with striations of yellow, like light falling through a canopy of summer leaves. An inner smile is at the edges of her eyes and lips, as if she's about to break out into laughter. Her arm is likewise around him, pulling him toward her as it enwraps his lower back. Both are wearing simple black clothing. Each wears a silver ring on their right hand. They are both pale. Both are beautiful. The wind crept by pulling on the tattered edges of the picture. The boy holding it shivered. "I never thought this one did justice to her eyes." His voice wavered, barely holding an edge of bravado, "They're so much...more..." His hands shook as he folded the photograph and tucked it into an inner pocket in his coat. Black hair fell halfway over one eye as he looked out into the night. "You don't have to do this" a voice emanated from the shadows in the trees to his left. "Yes I do." He shrugged and started walking forward, toward the distant lights of the city. His black coat snapped back in the wind outside the tree-line, revealing a holstered gun at his hip. In the memory the boy and girl were walking. They were in a dark street between tall, grey buildings. Water sprayed with every footfall, and a light film of rain was falling. They were holding hands. The boy was speaking, "Jess, I love you." They were silent a few seconds, then, "I'll never leave you...You're my life." It was clear from the way he talked that he wasn't accustomed to talking for any period of time. The girl, Jess, stopped, causing him to do the same. She looked into his eyes for a minute, then smiled. She stepped toward him and whispered, almost breathlessly, "I love you." Her voice was like a breeze in the forest on a rainy day. She kissed him. They walked on, awkward vows of eternal love flowing from his lips and the occasional whisper falling from hers. They walked for some time after that. They kissed. They held hands. In time they reached a little park where they sat under a willow tree. "Jack?" Her voice trembled, though that name was the loudest word she uttered that night. The boy, Jack, raised his face too look at hers (this was, more or less, his way of saying "yes love?") his eyes speaking for the words he could never find. "I'm scared." Jack wrapped his coat tight around him, stealing it from the greedy clutches of the wind. The gun was concealed again. "Stop following me Liam, you will get hurt." He put special inflection on the word 'will'. Liam stepped forward from the trees, ignoring his brother's warnings. "It's you who's gonna get hurt big brother." He had short black hair and wore a similar black coat, though no firearm adorned his belt. They were clearly brothers. They stood at similar heights. The most noticeable difference between the two was their eyes. Liam had deep, knowing, grey eyes, a stark contrast to Jack's sad-yet-calming brown eyes. Jack seemed more worn. Older. He had more scars. "Get out of here." Jack turned toward his brother. "You've got a life. Don't waste it on me..." his voice gained conviction; stopped shaking. "Mine ended with her." "Will ya' listen to yourself?" Liam said, wishing he could shake his brother. "She didn't 'End'..." He shook his head. "She didn't die." "You don't know what you're talking about." "And you're barking mad" The two stared for a moment, then Jack turned, walking away again. "Leave while you can." The words had a finality to them. Jack's eyes had lost their soporific effect. It was replaced by something much more alarming and cold, something angry. In the memory, he reached out to her after those words were spoken. He touched her face, tracing invisible lines along her cheeks, and around her eyes, around her lips. His other hand held tight to hers, while his eyes held hers in a sense just as real. His eyes, again, spoke for him. They told her not to be afraid, because he would never let anything happen to her. His eyes seemed to exude a calming aura, like light, sinking into everything it touched. She leaned into his shoulder, and they sat that way for some hours. "She's still out there Jack." Liam's voice shattered the memory. Jack opened his mouth to speak, reconsidered, closed it again, then looked back again, toward his brother. A tear marked the distance from his eye to the ground, shattering itself on a small stone bellow..... To be continued...... ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I'm not really sure where I'm gonna go with this. Any comments. suggestions, complaints, etc are quite welcome. It's all still in a draft-like state that can and likely will be altered and bent to serve my purposes. Some action is probably going to come in pretty soon. Edited by Death's servant, Jul 23 2009, 12:15 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| +Linden | Jul 23 2009, 02:07 AM Post #2 |
|
awesomesauce
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Liam is such a cool name. :P The only issue I see is that you're redundant in two places: Maybe use another word besides "kindness" in the last sentence? The last sentence just sounds so redundant to me because, personally, I would expect them to look similar. And a separate thing, although it's fine how you have it: I wonder if it would sound better as "They both appeared to be in their midteens..." instead of giving an exact age. Sorta adds to the mystery because you get even less of a time line, I think. |
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 23 2009, 12:17 PM Post #3 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
There: just a few revisions. I'm going to keep the age, because the reader can assume that they are any ages close to those stated. 'cause people can look way older or younger than they are. I think I've had someone go five years off guessing my age... |
![]() |
|
| +Linden | Jul 23 2009, 08:59 PM Post #4 |
|
awesomesauce
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Lol. Speaking of that... We all know I'm a college student, right? Well, my brother (who was in middle school at the time) forgot his lunch box. When I went to drop it off at the front office, they asked if I needed a tardy slip. And I'm tall! I'm 5'10, for goodness' sake! Being mistaken for a middle schooler... please. x_x |
![]() |
|
| D. Black | Jul 23 2009, 09:06 PM Post #5 |
|
I'm not breathing, I must be in heaven
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Hmmm...sounds like zombies to me. I loved the memory sections of it. The action of the story had a film noir feel to it; almost reminded me of a graphic novel type setting...black and white, rain pouring down, dramatic points of view. You've definitely got something going here mate |
![]() |
|
| Jessie | Jul 23 2009, 09:15 PM Post #6 |
|
. . .
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Liam is one of my favorite names!!!! |
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 23 2009, 11:45 PM Post #7 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
sorry, no zombies. |
![]() |
|
| D. Black | Jul 24 2009, 03:27 PM Post #8 |
|
I'm not breathing, I must be in heaven
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
I have a good title for this... Absence Makes The Heart Grow Cancer |
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 24 2009, 10:17 PM Post #9 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
D, if I was gay, and you were gay, I would totally marry you. I may actually use that |
![]() |
|
| kelseyyy. | Jul 25 2009, 12:51 AM Post #10 |
|
Set down your eyes for a moment and breathe.
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
wooohooo. i like this quite a bit, can't wait for the rest=] i love how you describe their eyes throughout the story...idk for some reason tthat makes it great=D. |
![]() |
|
| D. Black | Jul 25 2009, 08:31 AM Post #11 |
|
I'm not breathing, I must be in heaven
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Right back at ya, you sexy thing |
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 26 2009, 10:42 PM Post #12 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Kelsey, XD, all the eye stuff is a result of my fascination/obsession with eyes. |
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 27 2009, 02:18 AM Post #13 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Yay!!!! more story!!!!! ********* The photograph is old and worn and faded where fingers have many times stroked the inks and paper, as if trying to become somehow closer to the people and things in the picture. It has been folded and crumpled, battered and burned. It is stained with tears. It smells like memory. In the photograph a boy and girl are looking up at the camera. The boy, who is a full head and a half taller the girl, has his hand stretched upward, holding the camera which took the picture. His endless eyes could stare into your soul through the picture. His black hair is being tossed away from his face by a wind, frozen in an everlasting-nevermoving breeze. He is laughing, and his free hand holds the girl's smaller, more delicate hand. The girl's green eyes seem to emanate a green dappled sort of light, such as one might find in a deep forest, out of the old photograph. She is laughing too, and her laugh, though frozen in time, seems to lighten the heart. She looks like she has a voice like bells, or like water in a cold stream in a deep forest, like light. Her light brown-dye streaked hair is caught in the same ever-present breeze as the boy's. Both wear simple black clothes. There is snow on the girl's free arm, which is outstretched, as if she is turning in circles, pulling the boy with her. Jess let the photograph fall from her hand; it fluttered and glided to her feet, where it came to a rest, looking up, accusing, toward her. On the back there was a short message: Love never dies. Just those three words, nothing more. A tear flung itself toward the photograph from her eye. This was followed by a companion tear. Together they splashed into the photo, leaving twin stains of sorrow. She snatched up the picture and hid it in a pocket by her heart, defending it from further damage, and protecting her from further loss. It was a small room, with one door which locked and opened from the outside. There was a bed against the wall, and nothing else. No pictures adorned the walls. The floor was simple tile. No windows broke the grey monotony of the walls. The only light emanated from a square panel set flush with the ceiling. The bed was not a separate piece of equipment, but was like a tumor that had grown miraculously from the wall in a bed-shape. The room was 4 paces by 6 paces of completely NOT extraordinary. The only notable feature of the cell other than its door's unfriendly nature, was the vast lack of anything even remotely interesting. (This statement, of course, does not take into account the short mid-teen girl with light brown dye-streaked hair and black clothes standing barefoot in the center, assaulting the floor with tears.) Those words seemed still to be reflected endlessly in her eyes "Love never dies." Reflected in those eyes that shouted "Save me." Her tears continued to enact their silent suicides, shattering themselves on the grey tiles. In the memory Jack is waiting at her door when she runs down the stairs. He is leaning against a wall, one ankle crossed behind the other, and one eyebrow raised quizzically. His eyes are radiating their usual calm, flavored with a hint of anticipation. When she achieves at her goal of pulling on shoes and opening the door, he asks quietly "Would you like to see something beautiful?" She doesn't need to speak. The glow of her eyes tells him her answer. He takes her hand and they walk into the night. A full moon rises over the city lights, illuminating the forest with a soft silver light. Her eyes scream anticipation. His eyes secrete an aura like quiet words designed to build the tension of anticipation. Without a sound he somehow instigates an itching desire to see what it is he's bringing her to. He is for all the world like a beacon, broadcasting hints of emotion into the night. It's his eyes that this beacon shines most brightly through. He is whispering again. "This place reminds me of you. It's especially spectacular on the full moons." They walk faster, hands clasped together, shoes crushing the thin layer of frost of the ground. She looks at him, calculating, "We're almost there aren't we?" He voice flows smoothly, a light in the darkness of the perpetual almost silence of the forest night. His eyes say "yes. We're almost there." at the same time, both of the pair says "I love you" without words. Jess crumpled toward the wall, letting herself go limp, sliding all but lifeless to the floor. They look at each other. "We're there." the words leave two sets of lips at the same time, and they both smile. He kisses her quickly then leads her into the mouth of the cave. " I told you it would be beautiful" he says, an invisible smile covering his face. "I can't see anything" The moon rises a few degrees in the sky, and its light floods through an opening in the ceiling of the cave some forty feet in. The cave explodes in light, and reflections, and color. The walls are lined with quartz crystals, and with strange red crystals. The ground a few feet ahead drops off from hard stone to clear water. Under the water more quartz sparkles. The light of the moon is magnified, and changed, and made magnificent and unearthly by the strange stones and cool water. He puts a finger to her lips, his eyes tell her not to speak. He points toward a part of the back of the cave. There is a faint glow beyond the reach of the refracted moonlight. She rolled into herself, curling into a fetal position with her back against the wall. She couldn't help but wonder if it was really all that she remembered, or if she'd changed it in all the times she returned to that memory and relived it. As quickly as the moon shines through the opening, it departs, enclosing the two again in darkness. Their hands hold each other tighter. As the silver moonlight leaves the cave, it is replaced by a green glow. If the moon was unearthly, this new light is purely eerie, fey, magical. He whispers in her ear, no more than a breath, "Watch." The glow begins to flicker violently, struggling, then it begins to move toward them, spreading outward and illuminating the recesses of the crystal cavern with its own, now stronger, light. In a few second the cave is filled with myriad, bioluminescent moths, glowing different shades of green. Each displays a different pattern on its wings, and each glows a different shade of green. The lovers stand there, moths whirling around them, making the cave flicker and jump with shadows and light. As they watch, breathless, a moth come to rest on her shoulder. Its wings glow with a tattoo-like pattern, unique with swerves and hooks. Its light is precisely the same green as her eyes. It is her green. The moth glides onto her outstretched palm (the left; her right is still clasped in his left hand). It lowers its wings, settling itself into her hand. A moment later, the entire cave was black as the moths vanish out the window in the ceiling. The only light comes from the silhouette of the moth, no longer three dimensional, but tattoo-like, burned in an ever-glowing mark on her hand. The mark is like a bioluminescent tattoo. It can be described in only one way: magical. She looked down at her clenched hand and slowly opens it. The moth is still there, material evidence that there is something more to this world than that which we understand. It was all that and more. Her memory is good. |
![]() |
|
| Jessie | Jul 27 2009, 02:41 AM Post #14 |
|
. . .
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
*slaps head* i don't know how i missed this, i don't remember reading it, but somehow i commented on it and i don't even remember commenting on it and oh *slaps head again* where have i been? you have got me hooked Blake. really, this sounds really awesome and i really want to read more, especially that last part, it sounds really cool :D so write more. please... and i'm kinda tired and my vision was getting kinda blurry cause i was just reading and not blinking so i came across the line " He is for all the world like a beacon, broadcasting hints of emotion into the night. It's his eyes that this beacon shines most brightly through." and for a moment i thought beacon was bacon. so you can imagine how that looked XD "He is for all the world like a bacon, broadcasting hints of emotion into the night. It's his eyes that this bacon shines most brightly through." and i cracked up. and i'm cracking up slightly now because i felt really stupid XD but this is awesome, so please please post more soon. kay? Edited by Jessie, Jul 27 2009, 02:51 AM.
|
![]() |
|
| ** Death's servant | Jul 27 2009, 03:02 AM Post #15 |
|
Reflection
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
as soon as I have more. I don't have any more tonight though. The moth scene is a good night's work. I'm really glad you like it. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Your Stories · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
5:40 PM Jul 10
|





![]](http://z5.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)




5:40 PM Jul 10