hit me with your rhythm stick... it's nice to be a lunatic
Because celtic_sky commented, here you go.
Part of my story that I'm writing.
Please comment and tell me if it's incredibly stupid, or crap, or that it's just plain uncomfortable sentences and it's the worst thing you've read in... ever. Be honest, people, I can take it.
It doesn't have a name, and I haven't actually done any spell-checks or grammar checks, or heck, read it over.
Oh, and I haven't actually really wrote anything since like, March. So... yeah.
In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the earth. He created life and death, sight and sound, north and south, man and woman. He created all the opposites and everything in between.
A long time after this, a baby was born. A baby girl to a married couple, nothing if not normal. Her parents named her Isabella, after her paternal grandmother, a bit of a family tradition. Blue eyes, brown hair. Healthy and happy. Everything her parents could wish for
They lived in a small town, kinda folksy. Two thousand odd people. The kind of place where everybody knows everybody and everybody knows everybody’s business.
Our girl went to school early, excelled at English and Mathematics. She liked to learn and that’s rare these days.
When she was sixteen, she got her first boyfriend, Connor O’Sullivan. A good boy on the surface, but deep down, troubled. They did everything together, they were inseparable.
He took her to her first party. There was a band, a real live band, playing way too loudly and off-key, but nobody seemed to care, or notice. It was a Saturday night, her curfew was twelve midnight, after all, she had church the next morning. They danced until they got tired. Isabella found somewhere to sit, while Connor got drinks. Rum and coke, her first taste of alcohol.
They were together for five months. They broke up three weeks after the party. It was a case of She Said, He Said. She said ‘I love you’, he said ‘I think we should break up.’ Broke her heart into a thousand pieces and never looked back. She got over it. Eventually.
She was seventeen before she got her second boyfriend. William Stuart, a nice boy from a big family. She was the only person in the world who was allowed to call him Billy. He was gentle, kind, sweet and shy. Not at all like Connor.
They went out for just over nine months. He moved to the other side of the country a week after their nine month anniversary, and that’s what ended things.
Three days later, she found out she was pregnant. Not expected, of course, who expects to get pregnant as a teenager? She was only seventeen. She didn’t know what to do.
A week later, she rang Billy, he wasn’t at home, she apparently didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, he’d already found another girl in the ten days he’d been away. When he got back to her, his only reaction was ‘Wow. Well, it’s your decision, whatever happens.’
Her decision. What decision? There was no decision, because there were no options. She’d already told her parents in the tow days between finding out and talking to Billy. They were mortified. Her father couldn’t look at her for two days. But soon, they had a plan. She was going to finish school, then, forget university, she’d stay home and look after the baby, her mother would help and everything would be fine. She thought the plan was fine. Nothing too horrible.
The pregnancy was fine, if not a little quick. She didn’t mind getting fat, she actually kind of liked it. Knowing that she had somebody living inside her. Somebody who would love her no matter what, and vice versa. She couldn’t wait to find out if it was a girl or a boy. She secretly hoped for a girl. Her and her mother went shopping for baby clothes and toys and things for the nursery. Pink and blue and yellow and green. A giraffe, a bunny, and bear and a monkey. A pram and a cot and a change table. She loved picking out bibs and bonnets and little singlets. She’d even chosen a name for a girl and a name for a boy.
She went into premature labour at twenty-two weeks. She was rushed to the hospital from school. It was the scariest day of her life. She was in the library, trying to study for an exam when her water broke all over her too small uniform and the carpeted floor. The labour was painful and took too long. When her baby girl came out, Isabella couldn’t believe how tiny she was. Red and pink and mucky, that’s all she could see. She didn’t hear the baby crying like her mother said she would.
The baby was put into Isabella’s arms, wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. She was tiny and helpless, squirming in her arms, but silent. Big blue eyes staring up at her. She couldn’t believe it. She had a daughter.
They were left alone in her room, mother and daughter. Isabella felt as if they were the only people on the planet.
She named her Elizabeth Rose. Because of her mother and the fact that she always loved the smell of roses in the spring. Elizabeth Rose Smith. She liked that. Elizabeth lasted longer than everybody thought. Nineteen days and eleven hours. And she remembered every minute.
That's it... 836 words. It's short and it's all I've done so far...
Be honest and COMMENT people!!!
On another note, I finally got a postcard from my sister (she sent it 3 weeks ago) - it's the Celebrity Walk of Fame. And she drew me a star and wrote HAY in the middle, so I have my own star!!! YAIY for me!!!
Part of my story that I'm writing.
Please comment and tell me if it's incredibly stupid, or crap, or that it's just plain uncomfortable sentences and it's the worst thing you've read in... ever. Be honest, people, I can take it.
It doesn't have a name, and I haven't actually done any spell-checks or grammar checks, or heck, read it over.
Oh, and I haven't actually really wrote anything since like, March. So... yeah.
In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the earth. He created life and death, sight and sound, north and south, man and woman. He created all the opposites and everything in between.
A long time after this, a baby was born. A baby girl to a married couple, nothing if not normal. Her parents named her Isabella, after her paternal grandmother, a bit of a family tradition. Blue eyes, brown hair. Healthy and happy. Everything her parents could wish for
They lived in a small town, kinda folksy. Two thousand odd people. The kind of place where everybody knows everybody and everybody knows everybody’s business.
Our girl went to school early, excelled at English and Mathematics. She liked to learn and that’s rare these days.
When she was sixteen, she got her first boyfriend, Connor O’Sullivan. A good boy on the surface, but deep down, troubled. They did everything together, they were inseparable.
He took her to her first party. There was a band, a real live band, playing way too loudly and off-key, but nobody seemed to care, or notice. It was a Saturday night, her curfew was twelve midnight, after all, she had church the next morning. They danced until they got tired. Isabella found somewhere to sit, while Connor got drinks. Rum and coke, her first taste of alcohol.
They were together for five months. They broke up three weeks after the party. It was a case of She Said, He Said. She said ‘I love you’, he said ‘I think we should break up.’ Broke her heart into a thousand pieces and never looked back. She got over it. Eventually.
She was seventeen before she got her second boyfriend. William Stuart, a nice boy from a big family. She was the only person in the world who was allowed to call him Billy. He was gentle, kind, sweet and shy. Not at all like Connor.
They went out for just over nine months. He moved to the other side of the country a week after their nine month anniversary, and that’s what ended things.
Three days later, she found out she was pregnant. Not expected, of course, who expects to get pregnant as a teenager? She was only seventeen. She didn’t know what to do.
A week later, she rang Billy, he wasn’t at home, she apparently didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, he’d already found another girl in the ten days he’d been away. When he got back to her, his only reaction was ‘Wow. Well, it’s your decision, whatever happens.’
Her decision. What decision? There was no decision, because there were no options. She’d already told her parents in the tow days between finding out and talking to Billy. They were mortified. Her father couldn’t look at her for two days. But soon, they had a plan. She was going to finish school, then, forget university, she’d stay home and look after the baby, her mother would help and everything would be fine. She thought the plan was fine. Nothing too horrible.
The pregnancy was fine, if not a little quick. She didn’t mind getting fat, she actually kind of liked it. Knowing that she had somebody living inside her. Somebody who would love her no matter what, and vice versa. She couldn’t wait to find out if it was a girl or a boy. She secretly hoped for a girl. Her and her mother went shopping for baby clothes and toys and things for the nursery. Pink and blue and yellow and green. A giraffe, a bunny, and bear and a monkey. A pram and a cot and a change table. She loved picking out bibs and bonnets and little singlets. She’d even chosen a name for a girl and a name for a boy.
She went into premature labour at twenty-two weeks. She was rushed to the hospital from school. It was the scariest day of her life. She was in the library, trying to study for an exam when her water broke all over her too small uniform and the carpeted floor. The labour was painful and took too long. When her baby girl came out, Isabella couldn’t believe how tiny she was. Red and pink and mucky, that’s all she could see. She didn’t hear the baby crying like her mother said she would.
The baby was put into Isabella’s arms, wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. She was tiny and helpless, squirming in her arms, but silent. Big blue eyes staring up at her. She couldn’t believe it. She had a daughter.
They were left alone in her room, mother and daughter. Isabella felt as if they were the only people on the planet.
She named her Elizabeth Rose. Because of her mother and the fact that she always loved the smell of roses in the spring. Elizabeth Rose Smith. She liked that. Elizabeth lasted longer than everybody thought. Nineteen days and eleven hours. And she remembered every minute.
That's it... 836 words. It's short and it's all I've done so far...
Be honest and COMMENT people!!!
On another note, I finally got a postcard from my sister (she sent it 3 weeks ago) - it's the Celebrity Walk of Fame. And she drew me a star and wrote HAY in the middle, so I have my own star!!! YAIY for me!!!