There’s some wood splintered on the floor from when she slammed the door so hard the jamb cracked, careless, in some violent attempt to escape the stagnant air of the flat; when the silence had become too much to bear, she fled, leaving silverware tarnishing and dust collecting in the corner of some forgotten dream. “Ask me tomorrow” she murmured, kissing your thoughts away, and all the warnings that had been blaring through the tears in your eyes suddenly dimmed and died. And now, with the coppery, metallic taste of blood in your mouth, a sin that welled hot when you bit your lip hard enough to keep yourself from sobbing, you want to know; there’s anger and hate and that burning feeling that tells you all your love may have only been a lie.
Well done, well done. The way you used sight, smell, touch, taste, and sound all together brought me right onto the flat. The whole atmosphere of the 150 words shot straight into the senses, and the words of the two characters played well to the mystery of the place.
In that final moment under the lights, the roses didn’t seem so soft and the ground didn’t seem so hard and, for the first time, there was silence: no snide remarks, no jealousy, nothing except the applause coming from hundreds of empty hands. There was too much color for their tragic moment, too much gold and, Christ, was that blood on her lips? And white, snow white, like her skin, like her dress, like something out of those fairytales his mother used to tell him when he was a boy.
They had dreamt of paradise. They had dreamt of life, of freedom, of something far away from gluttony and sin, a place where even the moon and the stars couldn’t hold them. But somehow they were slipping, dying, and, this time, there wasn’t a lie that could make it right.
you're right the italics do make a difference! the angst getis soo good, but all i have to say is that hp7 better own up, it better own up good. mucho mucho angst required.
Hey, you know you want to copy/paste this comment into a new comment to the re-posted drabble, don't you? Because it looks screwy having a comment on a deleted post, even if it was deleted by accident.
;)
Yeah, I was stupid, and I meant to delete and re-post the drabble I wrote for Liz, but, uh, I screwed up. I deleted this one instead by mistake. So let's make this right, shall we? <3 you!
Comments 11
Few words: copper, silverware, and/or orcs
Reply
Used: silverware, copper
There’s some wood splintered on the floor from when she slammed the door so hard the jamb cracked, careless, in some violent attempt to escape the stagnant air of the flat; when the silence had become too much to bear, she fled, leaving silverware tarnishing and dust collecting in the corner of some forgotten dream. “Ask me tomorrow” she murmured, kissing your thoughts away, and all the warnings that had been blaring through the tears in your eyes suddenly dimmed and died. And now, with the coppery, metallic taste of blood in your mouth, a sin that welled hot when you bit your lip hard enough to keep yourself from sobbing, you want to know; there’s anger and hate and that burning feeling that tells you all your love may have only been a lie.
“You told me to ask tomorrow.”
Then, the door.
“It’s not tomorrow anymore. It’s today.”
Reply
Good job Kaitlyn!
If you need another
Theme: Wanderlust
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wanderlust for those that are not familiar with it
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Used: sky, moon
In that final moment under the lights, the roses didn’t seem so soft and the ground didn’t seem so hard and, for the first time, there was silence: no snide remarks, no jealousy, nothing except the applause coming from hundreds of empty hands. There was too much color for their tragic moment, too much gold and, Christ, was that blood on her lips? And white, snow white, like her skin, like her dress, like something out of those fairytales his mother used to tell him when he was a boy.
They had dreamt of paradise. They had dreamt of life, of freedom, of something far away from gluttony and sin, a place where even the moon and the stars couldn’t hold them. But somehow they were slipping, dying, and, this time, there wasn’t a lie that could make it right.
The sky has fallen, nature boy.
Don’t look up.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
http://nine.frenchboys.net/
These sites have massive databases of words, descriptions, places, bits of plot, etc for a new writer to build upon. All generated randomly.
Reply
um...witches, fire, childhood
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
good job!
Reply
;)
Yeah, I was stupid, and I meant to delete and re-post the drabble I wrote for Liz, but, uh, I screwed up. I deleted this one instead by mistake. So let's make this right, shall we? <3 you!
Reply
lets start out with some hp. that is nice and easy.
and yes tivo is awesome, but consumes your life. i mean, i love it and recomend it, but it owns me.
Reply
Leave a comment