Author: Crazyeight PM
Adam is your regular middleschool kid writing a story. But when the story starts to take on a life of its own he must search for the line between reality...and fantasy.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Supernatural/Drama - Words: 838 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Published: 09-07-08 - id: 2569030
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Long, silver hair flowed in the sky, illuminated by the shining moon that hung in the midnight sky, giving it an almost ghostly quality that was only emphasized by the billowing black gown that covered the teenage girl. She stared out at the world around her deep, dark eyes sparkling like the stars that hung above her; the only true sign of emotion that she had beneath the unmoving mask that she wore on her face. That had been what people had said about her, sometimes to her; that she always wore a mask. It was true after a fashion. She hadn't been one who showed emotion often to other people, and when she did it usually took something of particular circumstances to bring that quality out of her. It had been something that had been growing on her for the longest time. It wasn't something that she could help really, just merely what she was, or rather, how she became. If she had the time to think of her journey to her present state of mind and situation she would have likened it to a domino effect, with one situation after another merely knocking her into the next one until it was all that she could do to roll with the blows…
'It wasn't supposed to be like this,' she thought to herself as she saw a flash of light in the star filled sky. A shooting star, one of many that were soon to come crashing down. 'This isn't what I meant to do.'
The young girl's fingers twitched, as though longing to clench into a fist that would cry out towards the heavens in protest towards what was coming. It would be for naught though. It had been for naught earlier when he…
The girl's mind paused and just as her fingers had before, her eyes also twitched, attempting to move against her will towards the lifeless body that lay on the ground behind her.
Pursing her lips into one thin line she…
A low groan made itself known upon the air, interrupting the stream of thought before the sound of a single, dull, repeated clicking replaced it, followed by a series of rapid clicking's that moved at a much more livelier pace than the previous one, which had given the impression of an executioner's axe hitting a block repeatedly, cutting off the sentence word by word, letter by letter until it hesitated at the period in front of the word her. A dejected sigh resounded in the silence as a new set of words formed upon the page.
Nothing on her face gave any outward sign that she was struggling against herself…
A scruffy haired boy pulled one hand away from his keyboard and scratched the side of his head, feeling slightly annoyed with himself now. The first set of words that he had written seemed fine, flowing so smoothly but it hadn't taken him very long to realize that they were not quite the right ones to use. Not for this specific character, and the image of her showing a struggle, visibly despite having already written her as being rather emotionless, and for some time no less, was a contradiction. It might look good on paper in much the same way that poetry did, but for the purposes of what he was writing it wasn't right. The newer ones were at least more along the lines of what was 'right', but they still weren't what he was looking for. His mind felt foggy for some reason…
Stifling a yawn and glancing down at the right hand corner of his computer the boy winced as he saw the time.
11:45…yikes, he thought numbly as he obliquely noticed the darkness of evening that now shrouded his bedroom window. No wonder why I can't think so well right now.
Crap. And I have school tomorrow.
The boy scowled at his computer screen. He didn't want to stop writing, but the way that he felt right now there wasn't much of a chance that he was going to do anything more than stare at his computer screen and struggle for a sentence that he could feel comfortable with. Dragging one tired hand across his face the boy signed out of the Microsoft Word program that he had running and shut down his computer. Pushing away from his desk as the computer screen winked black the boy glanced up at the wall behind it, his eyes falling briefly on a picture that he had tacked on it; the picture of a silver haired, dark eyed girl wearing a black dress. A name was scrawled upon it.
The boy smiled slightly at it, feeling his heart skip a beat before turning away from it and crawling into his bed.
Good night Siera, the boy thought as he clicked up the light fixed to the wall above his bed.