|
Post by Akane on Jul 31, 2008 18:34:34 GMT -5
Further explanation on the brother complex, please? =]
|
|
|
Post by Firehead on Jul 31, 2008 22:28:44 GMT -5
Sweet You should make the chapters longer though. Or maybe I just read them to fast >.>
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Jul 31, 2008 22:39:08 GMT -5
Chapter 1= 2,041 words Chapter 2= 1,282 words Chapter 3= 1,163 words Chapter 4= 1,390 words Chapter 5= 1,212 words Chapter 6= 2,075 words Chapter 7= 1,119 words Chapter 8= 1,094 words
In total, 11,376 words. And the last one was the shortest, in case you haven't figured that out. ;]
|
|
|
Post by Pickle on Aug 1, 2008 0:58:31 GMT -5
Further explanation on the brother complex, please? =] Kurk is like her brother, and she originally became attached to him originally because he reminded her of her dead brother. In basic Freudian, you know, the whole Odipeus complex thing. Most people consider it bizzare. I do, too. However, it is usually true that girls end up with men like their fathers and boys end up with women like their mothers. It's because we observe the interaction. But, let says that a father is absent or in my case, never having formed any real emotional attachement to my father, instead seek males more like my male sibling. This is my psycholical thingie for the day. Because I can. And no, I do not wanna do naughty things to my brother.
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Aug 1, 2008 1:06:46 GMT -5
I never even knew that.
|
|
|
Post by Pickle on Aug 2, 2008 23:49:13 GMT -5
Maybe you did and didn't realize it.
Or I'm totally wrong. Either way, it's still a good story.
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Aug 2, 2008 23:52:43 GMT -5
Maybe. But thank you!
Err... I'm trying to decide which chapter I should enter in the contest- which one do you suggest?
|
|
|
Post by Pickle on Aug 3, 2008 1:18:10 GMT -5
five? I liked five.
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Aug 3, 2008 11:13:08 GMT -5
Lots of people seem to agree with you on that one. X3
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Aug 19, 2008 14:31:57 GMT -5
Chapter 9
“Molly! I don’t care if this is what you want anymore! I’m actually pretty sure it’s not what you want- so why are you doing this?” I blinked. I had missed this part of the conversation- the part where my mom slammed down her coffee and yelled at me. Where was the turning point? “Sorry?” I asked, confused. I scrunched my eyebrows together, something I did on reflex.
“You’re going back.”
“Where?” I was still trying to catch up. She gave me one of those looks.
“Wherever you’re happy! I don’t care where it is- I don’t care if it’s on the other side of the world. Just don’t act like this.”
“Act like what?” I knew she was losing patience, but I honestly was not following her.
“Molly, sweetie,” she placed her hand on mine. It felt warm compared to my always cold fingers these days. “Were you happy there? In Flower Bud?”
“I gotta go; I’ll be late for work.” I mumbled. I tended to avoid conversations that needed feeling answers and not just statements of fact.
As I was crossing the walkway, I was distracted by a human-like screeching noise. There was a metallic crunch, and little millions of glass shards flew everywhere. As I was frozen in the middle of the walkway, I saw her. Shoulder’s first, as if performing a somersault, she crashed through the windshield of the tan car that had been hit. Face up, she landed with a sickening thump a foot away from my boots, a pool of blood spilling from her head. And all I could do was stand there and gawk. As the red stain crept slowly towards my feet, I felt my breathing speed up, and turn to quick, rasping breaths. I started to shake, at first only my hands, and then my whole figure was trembling.
My throat felt like sandpaper, and I was starving for air. I tried to slow my breathing down, dark spots clouding my vision. The last thing I remembered was the cold sidewalk on my cheek and a dozen hands reaching towards me, before I sunk into darkness.
My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them to flutter open. “Oh! Molly!” My mom was there, at the end of my bed. My bed with rails, I noticed. An annoying beeping noise could be heard in the background. “I was so worried!” She said, crossing the room and grabbing onto one of my hands.
“Wha-?” I started to croak. I tried to clear my throat, but my mouth was completely dry.
“You’ve been here for a few days,” she said, as if that cleared it all up. I felt my face cloud over with confusion.
“Molly, honey, I think... I think maybe you should go back there. Or clear up whatever caused you to act so... so lifeless, really. I wish I knew what I could do to help...” She trailed off, her dark eyes worried. I pretended I couldn’t hear anything she had just said.
“Maybe... maybe you’re right. But I don’t know if I could... if I could handle it.” She didn’t know anything. It probably would be very confusing through her eyes, me coming home and then me acting lifeless, as she put it. I closed my eyes, trying to think. I couldn’t do this for much longer. Whatever this was.
She patted my hand comfortingly. “Is that what you want?”
No one had asked me that directly, not in the past three months. And I hadn’t really given it a thought, either. They were strictly filtered so that I only thought of what I wanted to. But when she asked me that, it broke the barrier. Memories of his deep brown eyes boring into mine, leaving me speechless, his fingers grasping at the skin on my waist, the way his face lit up when he smiled, flooded my brain. I remembered his velvet voice, and the way he smelt like the forest after rain, a woodsy, musky scent. I remembered the way he breathed my name when my lips were crushed against his. I remembered.
I remembered.
I let out a gasp, seeing everything around me with new eyes. Like I had been walking around for a month with foggy glasses on, and they were finally removed. Everything had a new, crystalline appearance. And like crystal, everything was sharp, and jagged, and piercing.
And it kind of hurt, in a the-sun-is-good-but-burns-your-eyeballs kind of way.
The rest was blocked out. But I do remember my uncle throwing around words like “catatonic.”
My mom just watched me with a worried expression as the small epiphany took seed and bloomed within me.
“Yes,” I breathed. That was the only answer. I had to go back. To apologize, at the very least. The very most was too much to hope for. So I didn’t think it. At the very most, I corrected myself, was that in sixteen hours you’ll see him. Nothing more. Maybe he’ll talk to you, maybe-
No. I had to learn to rein in my imagination, now that it was set loose. There was no doubt in my mind it could hurt me more than anything else.
Well, almost anything else.
When we got home, I was throwing any items my hands touched into a duffel bag, and I caught sight of the mirror over my desk. A girl I didn’t recognize looked back at me, a hand moving to touch her pale cheek, framed by long, dark hair. It was a sickly kind of pale, not a creamy porcelain, and the purplish marks under her eyes looked forever etched into her skin. But her eyes didn’t fit. They weren’t dead-looking, like the rest of her skeletal features. They were alive, and dancing, and hopefully thawing out the rest of her features with their light. She let out a laugh, and the action felt wrong, somehow, like it was out of character. But a new character was taking place.
After hours on a plane and in crowded terminals, I was finally on the ferry. There were small bunks for each passenger, there were only three of us, and even though it was a short ride, I lay down in mine. It was going to be hard enough, and I didn’t want to be loopy off of sleep deprivation. So I closed my eyes, and seconds later, a firm hand had shook my shoulder, letting me know that the hardest thing I would probably ever do was just moments away.
I'm thinking about rewriting the story. >_>
|
|
|
Post by Pickle on Aug 23, 2008 2:00:20 GMT -5
You can if you want. But finish it first.
|
|
|
Post by Akane on Aug 25, 2008 22:41:21 GMT -5
Yeah. There's only about two chapters left. Unless I change my mind, which I am known for doing. Frequently.
|
|