Author has written 8 stories for Romance, Love, Historical, and Fantasy.

Hello. This next thing i'm gonna type is just some thing that i thought of during class. Nothing really. A bit weird. It's from a guy's point of view. Here it is:

"She was like an artist's rendition of the devil. The devil of lust. She was beautiful, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She had long hair down to her back, and her 19th-century dress was revealing and showed her womanly curves. Her eyes were dark with lust, and lined with long lashes. She was tall, almost as tall as I, and she had long, thin hands that reached out for me, beckoning me closer. Closer to sin. I felt like i was in a trance as i walked slowly to her, her sweet, soft voice calling me. "Come, my love. Come to me." The distance between us slowly became less and less. In my heart I knew she was like the devil himself, in a form that would be appealing enough to me to make me sin, but I kept walking. I couldn't help it. I just kept walking. But then, I heard a voice call out my name. A voice almost as sweet as the devilwoman's. But this voice wasn't full of lust. I almost turned away from the sound, when i noticed the emotion behind the voice. It wasn't lust, but rather, love. I stopped in my tracks. Who was it? I had to know. I turned and started to walk towards the sound of the voice. I heard the devilwoman call to me again. When i didn't turn back, her voice became deeper and more venomous. "COME BACK!!" she screamed. I dared to look behind me. The devilwoman was gone, replaced instead by a monster. The monster was red, like the woman, but he had horns, and his face was no longer a human's face. I ran from him. I heard his persuing footsteps. I ran towards the sweet voice. "Please come back. Please. You can make it." the girl called to me. Flames rushed up all around me, blocking my path. But then the girl called again, and i saw a path appear before me, leading to her voice. The cavernous place turned lighter and lighter, and then all of a sudden, I was lying down on a soft feather bed in a brightly lit room. I recognized the room as my own bedroom at home. A girl sat next to me. She whispered my name. It was the voice of the sweet girl that had saved me. Who was she? Then my memory came back. She was a family friend, the daughter of a man who lived on the next plantation over. I had known her all my life, and we were close friends. I had slowly developed feelings for her. Then one night, i decided that i could not take it anymore. I told her. But then i remember everything going black. So the devilwoman was just a dream. But then-why does this sweet girl's face look so much like the devilwoman's face?"

I don't know where the heck that came from, but i just thought it up during math class. I don't even know if i could make it into a story. I don't think i could. So i decided to put it here. If you see this and review a story of mine, could you please tell me what you thought of it?

Thanks!

Alleyne

Here's another little thing I had to write for English, and I just thought I'd put it up here. If you review one of my stories, could you tell me what you think of it?

He fumbled in the small match box for the last remaining match, his last hope. His pale blue hands had been made unresponsive by the biting cold all around him, accompanied by the howling wind blowing snow everywhere in a white mist. His body shook like he was having a seizure, despite the heavy down coat he wore.
Unable to control his quivering limbs and immovable digits, he dropped the miniature match, watching it sink into the pure white mass below him. He desperately delved his hands into the snow and raised the wet, useless match to the box, panic taking common sense’s place in his mind. The match refused to light, and he threw it down in frustration.
He then collapsed next to the last remnants of his failed fire, gazing at the tiny orange flames being snuffed out one by one by the harsh, unfeeling wind, accepting defeat. The final burning twig was blown out, and a despairing calm took over him. His doom was inevitable.