Is my story moving too fast?
Published on November 29th, 2010.
Shards of rain stabbed at the cab window as it pulled into a hedge-lined driveway. Trinity gazed at the imposing mansion in awe; was this really the right place? She knew Paxton’s family was well off, but this was a whole new dimension of wealth. She paid the cab driver his fare, smiling as politely as she could muster. Trinity stepped out into the inky black night, feeling suffocated by its intensity. She pulled her coat over her head and ran across the slick cobblestones, trying to avoid the inevitable onslaught of rain.
She knocked on the door harshly, huddling against the penetrating cold. A dulled yellow glow spilled out from a third-story window. Someone was responding to her hurried knocks after all. Jessica lazily opened the door, yawning as she did so. As soon as she registered who she was, she squealed in delight and catapulted herself into Trinity’s frozen arms.
“Oh my God! I can not believe you’re actually here. We have got so much catching up to do. First, I want -”
“C-c-c can I come in-n-n?”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, come in!” Jessica smiled sheepishly as she stepped aside to let her in.
After Trinity had hung up her jacket and kicked off her shoes, she was lead into the warm, inviting kitchen and plopped onto a stool. She looked around, impressed at what she saw. It had large marble counters and an island, a comfortable little breakfast nook, and state of the art appliances – something Trinity was definitely going to take advantage of over the next month.
“Want some?” Jessica pointed to a case of peppermint hot chocolate.
“Of-f course!” Peppermint hot chocolate was a special treat their father used to make them every night before bed around Christmas – it’s one of their favorite childhood memories. He’d stopped making it when Jessica moved to Ireland, so whenever Trinity could get her hands on some, she’d consider it an extra special treat.
She watched as Jessica got out the mugs and the bag of marshmallows, a small grin dancing on her lips.
“So,” Jessica started. “How are you? How’s life? More importantly, how’s your love life?”
“Non existent, which is pretty sad. I was kind of hoping for a date to semi – formal. Oh well, what’re you going to do?”
“Everything! Oh Trin, there is so, so, so much we can do! Starting with your wardrobe – I mean, no ooffense but blacks and browns are not going to catch a guys’ attention.”
Trinity tugged slightly at the hem of her chestnut shirt, thinking it could make a difference. “Oh.”
“We can schedule a day into town this week – just you and me. It’ll be fun, just like old times.”
Filled under Uncategorized. 62 Comments. Tags: awe, breakfast nook, cab driver, cab window, childhood memories, cobblestones, hot chocolate, inevitable onslaught, intensity, marble counters, marshmallows, mugs, new dimension, paxton, penetrating cold, peppermint, shards, state of the art, trinity, yellow glow. .
What could have killed my 3 yr old chihuahua?
Published on November 9th, 2010.
Friday we came home from work/school and found our chihuahua lying on the floor, cold and stiff, in a pool of blood, bloody stool, and urine. The blood appeared to come from her rear end. She was left gated in the kitchen from 7am until we got home at 5. We can’t afford a necropsy, so I’m racking my brain for answers. Here are the facts:
-3 yrs old, healthy
-up to date on shots & heartworm meds
-no external injury
-no disturbance in eating/drinking
-no signs of lethargy or distress; no mood changes
-no signs of vomiting or diarrhea; fecal matter at the end may have just been evacuation, as with the urine
-no pus or discharge or smell of infection, but she was NOT spayed (not ruling out pyometra totally)
-blood was dark
-no debris in the stool
-stiff and cold when found
-blood "pool" was mostly dry or coagulated, indicating it had been there most of the day
-eyes open, laying on her side by the gate to the living room when we found her, blood, urine, etc. only found on her underside. She didn’t roll around in it, but stepped in some of it – there were footprints. We didn’t realize just how much blood until we moved her. This is our big clue, I think, but I don’t know what it means.
Any help is greatly appreciated.
As I stated, we can’t afford a necropsy. I’m just wondering if anyone else has ever heard of this.
And, she’d been out in the back yard both the night before and just before we left in the morning. Could a poison do this?
Filled under Uncategorized. 4 Comments. Tags: back yard, blood urine, bloody stool, chihuahua, clue, debris, diarrhea, fecal matter, heartworm, lethargy, living room, lying on the floor, mood changes, necropsy, poison, pool of blood, pus, racking my brain, rear end, vomiting. .
Do you like this part of my story and why?
Published on November 4th, 2010.
Emilio lived with his parents at a small house near the seashore. Every morning, he’d wake up, have his breakfast and walk to school, feeling sleepy and tired.
For the outsider, Emilio’s family seemed so harmonious but, to tell the truth, none of them was happy.
Mrs. Falk hated her life as a housewife. She woke up every morning and started running around the house, collecting dirty clothes and unwashed dishes. After finishing her work at the kitchen, she’d walk up to the bathroom and after finishing her work at the bathroom, she’d return to the kitchen and start cooking for her husband, who’d be returning home in less than an hour.
Mr. Falk worked as a manager in a sweeties company. He usually returned home with his pockets filled up with candy bars that he ate furtively at the bathroom. And although he always smiled at strangers, he was never happy. Sometimes, he’d burst into fits of shouting at Emilio or Mrs. Falk.
Emilio usually never replied and he walked back to his room with his head bowed to the ground. As for Mrs. Falk, she wouldn’t let such a thing as shouting at her to pass.
She’d start shouting herself and eventually Mr. Falk would slap her and, like Emilio, she’d dash up to her room, crying.
Emilio on the other hand, preferred to stay in his room, reading a book or watching the birds from the window. On the outside, he really enjoyed his calm life but deeper down he was feeling alone, so alone.
Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and walk to the window. He’d stand there for hours, watching the stars, shining far away in the sky, always having each other to talk to, always clustering up.
He eyed the sky once again and there was this lonely star at the north.
He smiled at it and wondered when would this lonely star find a friend? when would this lonely star join a cluster?
One day, he thought of asking his parents for a brother. He walked down the stairs and went up to his mother who was sitting at the kitchen stool, peeling onions with tears in her eyes.
“Mom,” Emilio said, “I was wondering of you getting me a brother.”
Mrs. Falk raised her head from the onions, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her red shirt. “What?”
“A brother,” Emilio repeated barely able to breath.
Mrs. Falk swatted the knife against the marble table and got to her feet. “I hate babies,” She screamed at him, “I barely raised you. You’d better go find a stray dog.”
Emilio nodded and ran back to his room.
After thinking of getting a dog, Emilio found it rather good. So one evening after finishing school, he headed to a small alley and sat at a garbage can, waiting for a dog to pass. And eventually, after some minutes, a shaggy, dog with brown fur and runny nose passed by. He stopped at a garbage bags and after sniffing at them, he started tearing them open.
At first, Emilio was afraid to approach him, but he reminded himself of his need to a brother or a friend and it was sufficient to force him towards the dog.
“Hey, Doggy,” Emilio said, in a girly voice, holding a piece of chocolate in his hand and shaking it at the dog, “Come on, I have chocolate for you.”
The dog parked twice.
” come on,” He said again, “ I have a sweet home for you,”
The dog parked again. He stepped a few steps backward and after parking for a third time, he dashed forward at Emilio, snatched the piece of chocolate from his hand and scurried away, parking the anthem of victory.
Emilio returned home, hopeless of finding a true friend. A strange voice in his head started telling him that he’d always be alone, and that no one loved him and that no one ever would care for him.
Filled under Uncategorized. 132 Comments. Tags: birds, brother, calm life, candy bars, cluster one, dirty clothes, dishes, falk, housewife, lonely star, outsider, parents, pockets, reading a book, returning home, seashore, sky, stairs, to tell the truth, watching the stars. .
What do you think of this part of my story?
Published on November 3rd, 2010.
Emilio lived with his parents at a small house near the seashore. Every morning, he’d wake up, have his breakfast and walk to school, feeling sleepy and tired.
For the outsider, Emilio’s family seemed so harmonious but, to tell the truth, none of them was happy.
Mrs. Falk hated her life as a housewife. She woke up every morning and started running around the house, collecting dirty clothes and unwashed dishes. After finishing her work at the kitchen, she’d walk up to the bathroom and after finishing her work at the bathroom, she’d return to the kitchen and start cooking for her husband, who’d be returning home in less than an hour.
Mr. Falk worked as a manager in a sweeties company. He usually returned home with his pockets filled up with candy bars that he ate furtively at the bathroom. And although he always smiled at strangers, he was never happy. Sometimes, he’d burst into fits of shouting at Emilio or Mrs. Falk.
Emilio usually never replied and he walked back to his room with his head bowed to the ground. As for Mrs. Falk, she wouldn’t let such a thing as shouting at her to pass.
She’d start shouting herself and eventually Mr. Falk would slap her and, like Emilio, she’d dash up to her room, crying.
Emilio on the other hand, preferred to stay in his room, reading a book or watching the birds from the window. On the outside, he really enjoyed his calm life but deeper down he was feeling alone, so alone.
Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and walk to the window. He’d stand there for hours, watching the stars, shining far away in the sky, always having each other to talk to, always clustering up.
He eyed the sky once again and there was this lonely star at the north.
He smiled at it and wondered when would this lonely star find a friend? when would this lonely star join a cluster?
One day, he thought of asking his parents for a brother. He walked down the stairs and went up to his mother who was sitting at the kitchen stool, peeling onions with tears in her eyes.
“Mom,” Emilio said, “I was wondering of you getting me a brother.”
Mrs. Falk raised her head from the onions, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her red shirt. “What?”
“A brother,” Emilio repeated barely able to breath.
Mrs. Falk swatted the knife against the marble table and got to her feet. “I hate babies,” She screamed at him, “I barely raised you. You’d better go find a stray dog.”
Emilio nodded and ran back to his room.
After thinking of getting a dog, Emilio found it rather good. So one evening after finishing school, he headed to a small alley and sat at a garbage can, waiting for a dog to pass. And eventually, after some minutes, a shaggy, dog with brown fur and runny nose passed by. He stopped at a garbage bags and after sniffing at them, he started tearing them open.
At first, Emilio was afraid to approach him, but he reminded himself of his need to a brother or a friend and it was sufficient to force him towards the dog.
“Hey, Doggy,” Emilio said, in a girly voice, holding a piece of chocolate in his hand and shaking it at the dog, “Come on, I have chocolate for you.”
The dog parked twice.
” come on,” He said again, “ I have a sweet home for you,”
The dog parked again. He stepped a few steps backward and after parking for a third time, he dashed forward at Emilio, snatched the piece of chocolate from his hand and scurried away, parking the anthem of victory.
Emilio returned home, hopeless of finding a true friend. A strange voice in his head started telling him that he’d always be alone, and that no one loved him and that no one ever would care for him.
Filled under Uncategorized. 73 Comments. Tags: birds, brother, calm life, candy bars, cluster one, dirty clothes, dishes, falk, housewife, lonely star, outsider, parents, pockets, reading a book, returning home, seashore, sky, stairs, to tell the truth, watching the stars. .
Should an almost 4 yr old always answer questions correctly?
Published on September 20th, 2010.
My son is only a few days away from turning 4 years old and he won’t reliably answer simple questions. He does have the ability to answer questions correctly, but only does it about half the time.
For example, today I asked him "Why did you move the step-stool into the kitchen (from the bathroom)?" and he wouldn’t answer. When he did try and answer he kept repeating the last word or two I had said, saying "the kitchen" or "step-stool".
Is this normal??? Is it just a phase? Like I said, he CAN half the time answer correctly, but his language is not that good, but not bad enough that the Dr. would refer him to a speech therapist when I mentioned it at his last appointment almost a year ago. He has a 4 year old check-up coming up in a couple weeks, but I’d like to hear from other parents before then.
For the record, he’s a very social little boy and LOVES other kids and makes eye contact, and he’s very affectionate. He knows all his letters and the letter sounds, shapes, colors, and can count to 20. It’s just worries me his language is not quite right and I don’t know if it’s a "red flag" of something else or not…
Have your kids ever done this? What is your opinion?
Thanks.
Filled under Uncategorized. 65 Comments. Tags: appointment, colors, couple weeks, eye contact, few days, half the time, last word, parents, red flag, shapes, simple questions, speech therapist, step stool. .
i need help decorating a farmhouse!?
Published on June 20th, 2010.
i’m moving to a house that was built in 1850 and then added onto a few times, I’ve looked all over for ideas and can’t find anything that seems to fit correctly. i like the liberty of london from target and the simply shabby chic by target, all though i can’t find the liberty of london in stores anymore and they don’t have bath accessories and not enough bedroom choices, and i feel that the shabby chic would be to dull for me.
any who i need help with this i’m out of ideas. i want bright happy colors but i want them to be similar to what they would have used in the 1850s.
2 full and 2 1/2 baths
one bedroom with 2 sets bunk beds for 13yr old and 15yr old girls with a 1/2 bath
1 bedroom for 2 girls age 2 and 3 i have farm bedding for the crib that i LOVE
library white book shelves and a black leather loveseat and chair
kitchen wood walls, wood cabinets, butcher block with random bar stools (plan to paint them to add color)
dining room 2 corner cabinets, light oak table and chairs
mudroom with full bathroom, all wood walls, etc
under steps play area, tile floor and wood walls
master bedroom, darker furniture with beige/brown bedding
Filled under Uncategorized. 111 Comments. Tags: 1850s, 2 girls, bar stools, bath accessories, baths, black leather loveseat, book shelves, bunk beds, butcher block, corner cabinets, dining room, happy colors, liberty of london, master bedroom, old girls, play area, table and chairs, target, tile floor, wood cabinets. .
For all teenagers. Do you enjoy my writing?
Published on June 18th, 2010.
Chapter one.
The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.
She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.
After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.
After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”
A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.
“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”
After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.
“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”
“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”
“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”
“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2
The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.
Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.
He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.
Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.
He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.
The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”
He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”
“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”
Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ok. Just calm down.”
“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”
He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”
“You’re mad…”
“That’s why I survive…”
Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Filled under Uncategorized. 2 Comments. Tags: armpit, asphalt, bones, cigarette, coldness, footsteps, guidance, high heels, illusion, knees, lampposts, pace, rib cage, slender hand, tall man, trees. .
For all teenagers. what do you think of my writing?
Published on June 17th, 2010.
Chapter one.
The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.
She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.
After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.
After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”
A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.
“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”
After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.
“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”
“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”
“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”
“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2
The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.
Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.
He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.
Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.
He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.
The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”
He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”
“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”
Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ok. Just calm down.”
“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”
He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”
“You’re mad…”
“That’s why I survive…”
Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3
The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no
Filled under Uncategorized. 70 Comments. Tags: armpit, asphalt, bones, cigarette, coldness, footsteps, guidance, high heels, illusion, knees, lampposts, pace, rib cage, slender hand, tall man, trees. .
For all teenagers. What do you think of my writing?
Published on June 16th, 2010.
Chapter one.
The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.
She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.
After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.
After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”
A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.
“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”
After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.
“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”
“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”
“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”
“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2
The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.
Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.
He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.
Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.
He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.
The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”
He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”
“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”
Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ok. Just calm down.”
“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”
He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”
“You’re mad…”
“That’s why I survive…”
Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Filled under Uncategorized. 171 Comments. Tags: armpit, asphalt, bones, cigarette, coldness, footsteps, guidance, high heels, illusion, knees, lampposts, pace, rib cage, slender hand, tall man, trees. .
For all teenagers. What do you think of my writing?
Published on June 15th, 2010.
Chapter one.
The woman scurried down the street, pressing her bleeding left knee with her slender hand and stealing quick looks behind her. She knew he was following her. The lampposts at her side offered no guidance; they all stood silently, their heads fogged with dust as if they existed in a place forgotten by time.
She gasped louder as she pulled her wounded leg behind her, unable to bear it anymore. The pain surged through her lower body and blurred her eyes. She wished for a voice to offer her a temporary refuge in the ever-increasing coldness of the night, but the buildings that surrounded her were all stark and dim as the trees facing them.
After sometime, she glimpsed the light of a far store she quickened her pace towards it. Footsteps emerged behind her. Afraid to turn her eyes from the store, she struggled faster down the street, convincing herself that it was just the sound of her high heels over the asphalt; it was just an illusion.
After falling to her knees in front of the store, she called out. “Help…someone…help me…”
A tall man appeared out of the store. He had a cigarette at his mouth. His face was brown and wrinkled; his eyes blue, narrow, and his chest bare and lined from the inside with the evident bones of his rib cage.
“He’s following me…I can’t walk…”
After placing her arm around his neck, he lifted her from under her armpit and dragged her into the store.
“What’s wrong…?” The man asked after placing her on a stool. “Who’s following you?”
“I can’t tell you…” She screamed. “Do something…please…the pain ….my feet is hurting me….help.”
“I can’t help you unless you tell me who’s following you.”
“I won’t tell you…” she screamed once again and kicked the man in his knee. The man shrieked and slapped her. Unable to balance herself over the stool, she fell to her face, crying at the ceiling. “Someone help me….” She scampered towards the door of the store. Every minute that passed, she knew, he was getting nearer to her. Soon enough, she would die.
Chapter 2
The man with the blue scar against his cheek stood at the door of the shack. It was still dark. The trees surrounding the shack shivered in the cold night air, filling the forest with furtive howling sounds. The lady escaped him this time. He would never allow it to happen the next time, but before this time came he first had to rest.
Inside the shack, he took off his black leather jacket and placed it at the hook behind the kitchen door. After standing naked in the dark, he walked to the small window above the red couch, and narrowed his eyes. He was waiting for someone important, someone that brought him news that he had been waiting for since last month.
He walked to a small table standing in the middle of the shack. He opened a small jar and took out a young girl’s ear. Slowly, he nibbled at the edges. He had been eating human flesh since he was twelve. He usually savored the soft parts like the ears and the nose.
Some minutes later, he sat down inside the small tub standing beside the door. The water was so cold like his skin and as his wounds unleashed their blood into the water, he sighed and started humming a repetitive lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was young.
He fell into a deep sleep in which he dreamt of the old lady he was trying to kill. She appeared out of a foggy street, ran at him and tugged at his throat, peeling his skin with her purple nails.
The door of the shack creaked open. He shivered, sat up and after raising the red handled knife above his head, he stepped out of the tub and walked, still naked, to the other man that went into the shack, his name was Ewan. His baldhead glimmered against the light of the small bulb that dangled down the ceiling from a white wire.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “I know you were waiting for me.”
He nodded. “Have you brought it to me?”
“Yes sir,” Ewan dipped his hand into his brown jacket and tugged out a brown strand of hair. He placed it against the man’s wet shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, “Now, you mission is finished.”
Ewan’s eyes widened and he walked backward; his hands shivering. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ok. Just calm down.”
“You won’t kill me…” Ewan yelled at his master, throwing a small stone from his pocket at his face. “I trusted you. I helped you…”
He smiled and lowered his face. “I know. That is why I will kill you. You helped me and your mission is done. You are an extra organ in the cycle of life. You should die to give space to someone else…”
“You’re mad…”
“That’s why I survive…”
Ewan’ back trembled against the door before he could turn to open it, the man with scar at his cheek, raised the knife and dipped it three times at his neck; three was his favorite number.
Chapter 3
The man with the red scar at his face was called Ivan. Twenty years ago, he used to live with his father in the same shack where he lives no
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