scez.
10-07-2008, 06:16 PM
Here is the start of a story I'm working on. I would idealy enjoy feedback. It's not long, probably filled with mistakes, which you'll have to excuse.
The persona is a schizophrenic. I tried to take the twisted thought patterns, I don't know how well it has worked. Also it isn't finished.
Opinions, thoughts, critisism, will be greatly acknowledged.
Scez.
I like the stars. They shine above us always. The stars are a shred of distant hope that breaks the eternal blackness, a light to look up to, unreachable, untouchable, a hope in the void. The all consuming darkness and bleakness that is nothing and everything cannot hold them in. the stars are free. The stars whisper. They talk. They move. They change. They fade. They fade into nothing and then they become nothing.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
I like the sea, the water, the push and pull of the current. The feel of the salty freshness, the breaking waves, the chill that seems to reach into my bones. The unpredictable moods, the way the waves will crash in violent fury, and then smooth out into calm and serenity. I like floating over the waves, fighting the current as it tries to steal me, the feel of the crushing power as the waves crash over head, stealing my into itself as it tumbles to the shore. They drag, the pull of the ocean, drawing back its waves. Drawing us all back with it, the silent victims of the water, the struggle, the rips, the hands of ebb and flow, pulling, stealing, consuming. Until there is no more oxygen in the dripping lungs, no more fight in the breaking limbs, no more sight in the salt burnt eyes. No more.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
I know you’re up there. Come down. Come out. Come listen.
I know things. I know things. I know things. I could share. I’ll talk, you’ll listen. Your gaze will linger on me, trying so hard to figure me out, trying forever.
I know that the end is coming. The end of everything is coming, closer and closer with each step, each footstep. I see things. I see the light. I see it shine above us all. Then we move closer, I went to touch it, and it burned. The light it burns. It was pretty. Yellow. Red. Orange. The colours were hot, a warning. The smoke is a signal, calling for help, a billowy cloud of ash and suffocation. I went to look into the pretty light, to see what was burning. I was burning. Too close. Too close. Mum yelled and screamed when she saw me. Baby too close! But the light was pretty. I like orange, pretty orange, pretty burning orange. Help, help me, and help my baby. Baby! No more tears mum, stop yelling its hurting my ears. Stop screaming. Stop, stop. And then she did. That’s good mum. No more sound. No more tears. No more me. No more
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
Come listen. Come listen. I know things. I see things. I watch. I wonder what the weathers going to be tomorrow. I think it will rain. I think it will rain. I’m hungry. I feel like pie. Lie. Tie. Die. Dye the sheets black. Dye my hair red. I want red hair and black sheets and pie. Lie. Tie. Die. Baby, too close! Die. Not close enough. Never close enough.
It’s all about knowing. Knowing that, now you’re you, and then you won’t be, and to the world it doesn’t matter who you are because we are each as insignificant as the next, and then we’ll be more so. Now you’re you. And then you won’t be.
The persona is a schizophrenic. I tried to take the twisted thought patterns, I don't know how well it has worked. Also it isn't finished.
Opinions, thoughts, critisism, will be greatly acknowledged.
Scez.
I like the stars. They shine above us always. The stars are a shred of distant hope that breaks the eternal blackness, a light to look up to, unreachable, untouchable, a hope in the void. The all consuming darkness and bleakness that is nothing and everything cannot hold them in. the stars are free. The stars whisper. They talk. They move. They change. They fade. They fade into nothing and then they become nothing.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
I like the sea, the water, the push and pull of the current. The feel of the salty freshness, the breaking waves, the chill that seems to reach into my bones. The unpredictable moods, the way the waves will crash in violent fury, and then smooth out into calm and serenity. I like floating over the waves, fighting the current as it tries to steal me, the feel of the crushing power as the waves crash over head, stealing my into itself as it tumbles to the shore. They drag, the pull of the ocean, drawing back its waves. Drawing us all back with it, the silent victims of the water, the struggle, the rips, the hands of ebb and flow, pulling, stealing, consuming. Until there is no more oxygen in the dripping lungs, no more fight in the breaking limbs, no more sight in the salt burnt eyes. No more.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
I know you’re up there. Come down. Come out. Come listen.
I know things. I know things. I know things. I could share. I’ll talk, you’ll listen. Your gaze will linger on me, trying so hard to figure me out, trying forever.
I know that the end is coming. The end of everything is coming, closer and closer with each step, each footstep. I see things. I see the light. I see it shine above us all. Then we move closer, I went to touch it, and it burned. The light it burns. It was pretty. Yellow. Red. Orange. The colours were hot, a warning. The smoke is a signal, calling for help, a billowy cloud of ash and suffocation. I went to look into the pretty light, to see what was burning. I was burning. Too close. Too close. Mum yelled and screamed when she saw me. Baby too close! But the light was pretty. I like orange, pretty orange, pretty burning orange. Help, help me, and help my baby. Baby! No more tears mum, stop yelling its hurting my ears. Stop screaming. Stop, stop. And then she did. That’s good mum. No more sound. No more tears. No more me. No more
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
Come listen. Come listen. I know things. I see things. I watch. I wonder what the weathers going to be tomorrow. I think it will rain. I think it will rain. I’m hungry. I feel like pie. Lie. Tie. Die. Dye the sheets black. Dye my hair red. I want red hair and black sheets and pie. Lie. Tie. Die. Baby, too close! Die. Not close enough. Never close enough.
It’s all about knowing. Knowing that, now you’re you, and then you won’t be, and to the world it doesn’t matter who you are because we are each as insignificant as the next, and then we’ll be more so. Now you’re you. And then you won’t be.